A few months ago, I wound up in the hospital because I decided to get high on Oxycotin. I did what I did a month prior; two caps with some food to chase it down. Before, I only had so much fun- no drawbacks besides a headache the next day. Well, because my body 'forgot' how to handle being high during that time, I had a completely different reaction. I broke into a pouring sweat, my skin lost all of its color, my heart rate soared, i felt extremely nautious, I couldn't walk or talk right, and my hands were shaking.
When I got to the hospital, my sister was sitting next to me crying, my mom was crying, and my stepfather didn't quite know what to do. When the doctor came and asked me why I took the drugs, I lied, and told him it was to attempt suicide due to a broken heart (my heart WAS broken from a breakup, but it had nothing to do with why I got high). I lied so that I wouldn't look like an idiot; I never considered what it would do to those around me.
To cut a long story short, I had an awful hangover the next day, and people began saying things ive never heard from them. My biological dad called me, crying, to leave me a message saying he was thinking about me, and needed to hear my voice. My sister was afraid I'd kill myself, and couldn't sleep. My mom has her own issues, so she used it as somewhat of a copout for her own depression/problems, and my grandma probably didnt think me to be better than my unmorraled cousins.
I knew I had done something horrible, and I couldnt bring myself to confess. I did make it right by proving I wouldn't get high again, but I still feel guilty for doing what I did. In many ways, the lie was worse than the drugs I took.
After I've given my brief drug use (it lasted around two months; one for very constant use, and the next for the time when I wound up in the hospital) a thought, I've come to the conclusion that I used [drugs] not for the feeling of the high alone, but to escape other troubles:
-At the time of the use, I was forced to admit that i was bisexual/gay, as all attempts throughout my life to change this did not work. Because of this, I had a huge feeling of loss and unworth. It was so horrible that I couldnt talk to my best friend, for fear that I would just crack and jump on him. I also feared reactions from my family and friends, who are all very straight.
-I had huge dedication to chasing my dreams and becoming a doctor, but I was discouraged due to criticism from other students, and having struggled with math in different instances.
-I was angry (for several years, never getting less angry) with my mother/stepfather, but I didn't talk to them about it because I felt they wouldn't understand.
-Was self-conscious about my being a virgin, never having a serious relationship, and acne problems.
So, was it possible that, subconsciously, I did drugs to try forgetting about those things? It's very likely. Why do I think so, besides that i had those things on my mind at the time? Well, because when I generally DID take the drugs (as in the time of night), I was struggling with my sexuality/knowledge/anger etc deeply. Sure I didn't think 'well, im gonna get high so I dont need to worry about it', but ultimately, I wanted to feel good in a bad situation.
In the end, I guess, those things I fought with were so bad that I grew tired of trying to push them away myself. Instead of talking about them with others, I decided to be self-destructive and, in the process, hurt my family and friends. It felt awesome, and in some ways I miss it, I won?t lie....however, if I could go back, I would leave the drugs alone and talk to others.
Contrary to what I feared, my family accepted my bisexuality, I became more confident in my studies, and my dream of becoming a doctor has become clearer. I'm still very angry with my parents, but I reckon that'll take more time to conquer.
While I feel better now than I had a while ago, I sometimes am haunted by my obsessive self-harm in the past: cutting, starvation, over-exertion of my muscles/joints for pain, very brief drinking, picking at my skin until it would swell, etc. I still have the scars of my cutting, and my poor metabolism reflects my old eating disorder.
I wish I could tell everyone who had to put up with me how sorry I am. However, I know I can slowly patch things up by doing the best I can do, and moving past my fear. I am now comfortable with my sexuality; I can admire both sexes without guilt, and I no longer fear failure in my academics. Though I'm bi-polar and will likely struggle with my emotions quite a bit, I'm recieving therapy, and so I can rest assured that I can learn to live with it better.
I'll admit I haven't been to church, read the bible, or been devout to my faith for quite some time. However, I remember to pray everynight, and pray for forgiveness when I've sinned, as well as thank God for all that I have everyday. In the context of this blog, my favorite bible verse goes something like this:
"Have no fear, for I am your father, and with me you are safe. Tell your neighbors the same, and love them much, for I have loved you much. Never forget to love me with all your heart, as well, for I have sacrificed my own son for your safety; that's my love for you."
Thanks for reading this long blog
, and remember that there is always a way out of a dark hole.
When I got to the hospital, my sister was sitting next to me crying, my mom was crying, and my stepfather didn't quite know what to do. When the doctor came and asked me why I took the drugs, I lied, and told him it was to attempt suicide due to a broken heart (my heart WAS broken from a breakup, but it had nothing to do with why I got high). I lied so that I wouldn't look like an idiot; I never considered what it would do to those around me.
To cut a long story short, I had an awful hangover the next day, and people began saying things ive never heard from them. My biological dad called me, crying, to leave me a message saying he was thinking about me, and needed to hear my voice. My sister was afraid I'd kill myself, and couldn't sleep. My mom has her own issues, so she used it as somewhat of a copout for her own depression/problems, and my grandma probably didnt think me to be better than my unmorraled cousins.
I knew I had done something horrible, and I couldnt bring myself to confess. I did make it right by proving I wouldn't get high again, but I still feel guilty for doing what I did. In many ways, the lie was worse than the drugs I took.
After I've given my brief drug use (it lasted around two months; one for very constant use, and the next for the time when I wound up in the hospital) a thought, I've come to the conclusion that I used [drugs] not for the feeling of the high alone, but to escape other troubles:
-At the time of the use, I was forced to admit that i was bisexual/gay, as all attempts throughout my life to change this did not work. Because of this, I had a huge feeling of loss and unworth. It was so horrible that I couldnt talk to my best friend, for fear that I would just crack and jump on him. I also feared reactions from my family and friends, who are all very straight.
-I had huge dedication to chasing my dreams and becoming a doctor, but I was discouraged due to criticism from other students, and having struggled with math in different instances.
-I was angry (for several years, never getting less angry) with my mother/stepfather, but I didn't talk to them about it because I felt they wouldn't understand.
-Was self-conscious about my being a virgin, never having a serious relationship, and acne problems.
So, was it possible that, subconsciously, I did drugs to try forgetting about those things? It's very likely. Why do I think so, besides that i had those things on my mind at the time? Well, because when I generally DID take the drugs (as in the time of night), I was struggling with my sexuality/knowledge/anger etc deeply. Sure I didn't think 'well, im gonna get high so I dont need to worry about it', but ultimately, I wanted to feel good in a bad situation.
In the end, I guess, those things I fought with were so bad that I grew tired of trying to push them away myself. Instead of talking about them with others, I decided to be self-destructive and, in the process, hurt my family and friends. It felt awesome, and in some ways I miss it, I won?t lie....however, if I could go back, I would leave the drugs alone and talk to others.
Contrary to what I feared, my family accepted my bisexuality, I became more confident in my studies, and my dream of becoming a doctor has become clearer. I'm still very angry with my parents, but I reckon that'll take more time to conquer.
While I feel better now than I had a while ago, I sometimes am haunted by my obsessive self-harm in the past: cutting, starvation, over-exertion of my muscles/joints for pain, very brief drinking, picking at my skin until it would swell, etc. I still have the scars of my cutting, and my poor metabolism reflects my old eating disorder.
I wish I could tell everyone who had to put up with me how sorry I am. However, I know I can slowly patch things up by doing the best I can do, and moving past my fear. I am now comfortable with my sexuality; I can admire both sexes without guilt, and I no longer fear failure in my academics. Though I'm bi-polar and will likely struggle with my emotions quite a bit, I'm recieving therapy, and so I can rest assured that I can learn to live with it better.
I'll admit I haven't been to church, read the bible, or been devout to my faith for quite some time. However, I remember to pray everynight, and pray for forgiveness when I've sinned, as well as thank God for all that I have everyday. In the context of this blog, my favorite bible verse goes something like this:
"Have no fear, for I am your father, and with me you are safe. Tell your neighbors the same, and love them much, for I have loved you much. Never forget to love me with all your heart, as well, for I have sacrificed my own son for your safety; that's my love for you."
Thanks for reading this long blog
, and remember that there is always a way out of a dark hole.
