Back to the Vices

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. (Ephesians 22-24 NIV)

I returned to the vices of my past in a desperate plea to get the old me back for one night. Of course, I forgot how much I had changed. I know I made a stupid mistake and I know that it was selfish and  thoughtless of me to revert back to drugs and drink, but I did it.

Since I last wrote I have had days of polar opposites as with my mind. The Alpha course I attended was good, it was just the first night so we didn’t really go into much detail about God, it was more a 'meet eat and greet' night, which I enjoyed. It did however open my eyes to the varying degrees of faith and belief amongst different people. Just because we believe in God doesn’t necessarily mean we agree with the same ways of worship, but I expected that before I went. All in all it was good to meet people who have chosen to have God in their lives as well. I enjoyed being part of a group and being able to talk openly about my beliefs without worrying I was boring somebody, or preaching to them. I intend to return and hope that I forge more bonds with people over the coming weeks. The more people you can talk with, the easier and more enjoyable the walk can be.

The following day  I woke up feeling very low and had an appointment with my doctor. I explained how I had been feeling lately and that I had spoken to my psychiatrist the day before, who had advised me that unless I was willing to take another form of medication (either an anti-psychotic or have electro convulsive therapy), that he was looking to admit me into a psychiatric ward. To my surprise my doctor also agreed that some time in a 'hospital' would probably do me some good. He had previously worked in one for six months and said it would be ideal for me to get the support I need and just to have a break from everyday stresses so I can focus on getting better. The images I have of being chained down to a bed and force fed medication are apparently wrong and he said that it would just be a temporary place for me to heal. I still don't know how I feel about it, if anything I am terrified. The stigma attached with being admitted to a hospital is on the forefront of my mind, but as my doctor pointed out, if I choose to go in voluntarily, rather than being made (sectioned), then I could come out when I wanted to and it wouldn’t look 'as bad' on my medical record.

I have talked with my family about this and they have made me realise that there is nothing wrong with saying I need more help. My mum pointed out that I was so exhausted with this battle, that it may be nice for me to just focus on the healing part, rather than worrying about the house, basic tasks etc. If I go in voluntarily then I can choose when I leave, so if I really didn't like it, I could go back home. I'm still in two minds about what to do and I have an appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow, which my mum is also coming to. I need to find out more about my options, but I know myself that I am not coping with life at all and I just want to get better. Most days I feel like I am losing my sanity, my mind plays tricks on me and bombards me with thoughts and ideas that I just can't keep up with. I feel like an overloaded donkey, more and more baggage piling on the top and I'm getting lower and lower, till I completely buckle under the weight of my own thought processes. I can't keep relying on my family to be there, even though they assure me they don't mind. I am twenty six, I want to be better and it's embarrassing having to be treated like a child again because I can't cope.

When I reflect on my past the pattern of my disorder started in school, when I hit the low and was off school for several months dealing with my breakdown. I then went into a manic phase making friends quickly, partying and loving life. I then hit another low, came off school and couldn't handle the viciousness of my own mind. This carried on into my working life, on a high I would get a job and be amazing at it, over exceeding sales targets and living the good life. My crash would then come and I would have to leave the job, wondering why I could never hold a normal life down. When my diagnosis came last year, it was a huge relief to know there was a reason that the previous ten years had played out as they did. However, I feel no better now than I did then. Now, I am on one of the strongest drugs on the market to deal with my disorder and I am still at risk of leaving my job and have already lost the life I was living. I can not keep doing this for the rest of my life, I really am too exhausted, it has to stop. So.....if I choose to go into the hospital, as I would do if I had a physical disability that I needed help with (my mum kindly pointed this out), then I am doing it as a last chance saloon. It would be me, saying I have tried everything and I am still broken and now I need the most help so I can start to fix myself. It would also mean, I am likely to give up work and choose instead, to focus on my full recovery. To say to life, that I want to be in control. So it may seem like I am taking steps back, but in the future it may well be the biggest leap of faith I chose to accept. I hope so. The rest of that day I spent about six hours reading the bible and writing the verses that resonated in me. I chose to focus instead on the glory that the Lord was showing me and it worked to calm me down and find stability in what I think is the decision that could change my life forever.

As for the vices, drink and cocaine entered my system again this weekend for the first time in months. I am being honest and I know that means a lot of people will think I'm weak and that I've let myself down but it was a choice I made and I wanted to do it, regardless of what anyone thought. For one night, I wanted the old me back, the one without the endless days of worry and self assessment, the one with crazy nights and a touch of fun and sedation that I haven’t experienced for nearly six months. I wanted to escape from me for one night and remember what I was like before the breakdown that crushed me.

It was a good night. I was surprised how easy it was for me to just get back in the swing of things but then the Devil was out in full force, encouraging me, loving me, the old me. After the first few drinks and lines I went out into the local bars and remembered how much I missed them, their smell, their freedom, their fun. I had decided honesty was the best policy and when my mum rang me and asked if I had done anything I was honest with her. This went down like a lead balloon and I experienced the massive pangs of guilt that I hadn't really felt on previous sessions. This was the first part of me that realised that I had changed. The rest of the night ended in drinks and drugs back at mine then exhausted into bed. I have been suffering with the effects of the hangover/comedown ever since. That’s the other part I forgot I hated. In brutal honesty, yes, I enjoyed being care free, young, drunk and partying again. After all, this was my life for as long as I can remember. I thought the me that I had been for all those years had completely gone and I'd never relive the exhilarating highs that I was used to. I needed to be her for one more night.

Do I feel better for having had that night? Not really, the wasted days recovering and the incessant guilt voice in my head have not exactly been great company. But beyond that, I am learning that the girl I was, wasn’t the happier girl, she was just the girl who blocked things out. I was still me that night, I just drunk it away and focused on partying and escapism rather than real life. I'm not addicted to the drugs and drink anymore and I'm not sure if I ever really was. I was just addicted to the peace they gave me from myself and the life they allowed me to carry on living even though I was desperate to escape. That one night made me see the beauty of the life I have started to live and the pain that I am trying to learn to live without. God has given me a greater purpose than to just get through another day and that’s what I realised. That old me lived for the night, this me lives for the present and the future. I have changed, even if you may think by taking them I haven’t. I really have. I have no desire to go out and do it again, although that day I am sure will come around. All I know is, the drugs and drink haven’t changed, but the person they were covering, finally has. I'm not that girl anymore and as much as it hurts to wave her goodbye, I know its because the real me is starting to emerge.

Love Always.x