When I was younger, I always knew that I was different from my peers. I had a sense that I didn't belong in any of the cliques at school, I didn't feel as if I fit in with my own family, and I never felt comfortable within my own skin. In response to never feeling "a part of", I started to try to blend into any group of people that would accept me. This led me to a bad crowd of friends, who I was desperately trying to impress in any way that I could. I began drinking and using drugs at the young age of 12 and going to parties that all of the older kids were attending. I quickly got caught up into a dangerous lifestyle and in my naivety, I thought I had made true friendships with people for the first time. As it turns out, the people around me didn't care about anything other than getting drunk and finding the same validation I was so desperately seeking.
My mom started to notice that my behavior was off and she sent me to a therapist, where I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was too afraid of getting in trouble to admit that I had been doing drugs and drinking, so no one was able to warn me of the dangers associated with mixing bipolar disorder and drugs. The chemicals in the substances I was using were actually making my disorder and it's symptoms more prevalent, causing higher manias and lower depressive cycles. During mania, I would feel like I was on top of the world and be extremely easily agitated or paranoid and then I would go through a depressive episode where I would barely be able to leave my bed for weeks on end. My medication was not working and I never stopped to think that maybe my drug use was hindering their ability to treat me. My mother could barely handle seeing me behave the way that I was and I know watching me go through such extreme highs to such a low place broke her heart daily. I wanted so badly to be normal.
I finally admitted to my mom at age 18, that I was addicted to Methamphetamines and Xanax. She was in disbelief at first, and then the guilt set in which only made me feel worse for putting her through everything I had. I had made countless suicide attempts over the years and left her to pick up the pieces every single time. All I wanted was to make her pain go away, so I agreed to go to a dual-diagnosis program at a treatment center. I was terrified and had no idea what my life would look like after making this enormous step, but I knew that I was done living the way that I had been. If I kept on the way that I was, I would have ended up in jail or dead and I just couldn't let that happen to my mom.
Treatment as scary in the beginning, but once I began to feel comfortable I realized that I actually felt something in common with my peers for the first time in my life. I was sober and on the right medication for my bipolar disorder, and I was starting to feel okay. For someone like me, feeling "just okay" was a big deal; all I could remember experiencing up to that point were feelings of despair, guilt, anger, and loneliness. I was beginning to see a future for myself that involved happiness and success when before all I could envision was dying before my 30th birthday. I started to get to know the real me; my interests, what I wanted in a career and if I wanted to start a family of my own.
With the proper medication, therapy, and the time to separate from all of the triggers from my old life, I was able to recover from addiction and learn to manage my bipolar disorder. These days, I spend my time helping other people who are going through the same issues I have struggled with. I go to meeting with other addicts and alcoholics, I write blogs trying to spread awareness on mental health and addiction in order to break the stigmas associated, and I have a wonderful circle of friends who I consider a second family.
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