I often find myself in a place where I don’t know what to write about, and then I read something and my mind goes running 🏃♀️ but my fingers can’t catch up!
Courage– a word that has many different meanings, and is one of the most powerful.
I am reminded on a daily basis how much courage it takes to show up and live life! Being an addict in recovery is one of the hardest, yet most rewarding things I’ve ever done!
I face many challenges that used to send me spiraling out of control, and today walk through them with a new found courage. A majority of my life I used some sort of substance or behavior to change the way that I felt! I’m slowly learning different ways to deal with my fear today!
I have shared a few different experiences on my blog, but sometimes just showing up and facing life takes a lot of courage when what you have known for so long in the bottom of a spoon, or the inside of a dope sack, or an atmosphere where the sounds from gaming drown out any thoughts, yet make your heart race.
Choosing to come off my meds while pregnant 🤰🏼 demonstrators courage in a way I haven’t known, because I get to trust and believe that my god will take care of me and this baby. I have only ever known getting loaded when I’m not medicated so this is much different for me!
Everyday I get to work towards a better future and walk through fear to achieve the life I have always dreamed.
As long as I’ve been in recovery, I have always had triggers. Today things don’t trigger me like they used to, but occasionally I can end up on a train ride through the past.
I left a spoon from my coffee on the counter in the bathroom, not thinking anything of it. Tonight when I got home after a crazy, long day, I walked into the bathroom to start my nightly routine and noticed the spoon 🥄 on the counter.
When I picked the spoon up there was a watery brown substance that I KNOW FOR A FACT WAS COFFEE, but my brain switched into disease mode and I instantly started flashing on the past.
My story of active addiction and recovery takes place MOSTLY in THIS house, in THAT bathroom. So walking in on an innocent spoon left on the counter sent me spinning.
I am just about at 7 months, clean and sober again. It’s been almost 18 months since I last used heroin, and even though it’s been that long, I still found myself flash-back as if it was just yesterday….that I used last.
The many days and nights that I would spend locked in my bathroom trying to find a vein so I could get well, instantly made me nauseous. Somethings I can remember as clear as day and others I have no recollection of.
I was not triggered to want to use, but I sure did emotionally find myself stuck on the train ride and remembering some of the things I have put my family through, and how grateful I am that my child will never have to see me loaded, as long as I choose to stay on this path!
Due October 6. 2018. What will it be? A boy, or a girl? The constant thought and question once I got past my initial shock.
No matter how bad I wanted to be a mom, I was not ready, and it could have been a terrible disaster bringing a baby into this world during that time in my life. Today I’m grateful for Gods timing.
Am I ready? I ask myself frequently! The drastic changes that have had to take place in my life since I found out that I’m expecting are simply miracles, or at least I’d have to say. Up until this point I don’t believe I would have been capable of taking such responsibility and caution to care for this little peanut 🥜 growing inside me.
As an addict, I know the struggles I have faced in trying to get clean and stay clean. After years of fighting this battle, I understand how this is a cunning baffling and powerful disease, and I am powerless to it! I could not stop using drugs, regardless of the consequences, and it was a painful process for myself and everyone in my life. Finding out I was pregnant, I knew it was no longer just about me, and I had to make a choice to be selfless for the sake of this little being.
After almost a year of struggle, I was finally stable on mental health meds, and I knew that they were not safe and would be harmful to my baby, So we began the detox process, the day I found out I was pregnant! I wanted to make sure that I got through the pregnancy with the baby in mind, and that at the forefront.
I guess we could say that I’m an extremist. It’s black and white, all or nothing! So immediately I changed my caffeine intake and quit smoking as well. To be in a position where it’s no longer just about me, but a little baby I’m growing inside me, gives me the motivation to take better care of myself!
Today I’m 7 weeks and 5 days. Finally, completely off all of my medications, and am exhausted everyday! I can sleep all night and still take a nap and go to bed early. The baby sucks every ounce of energy out of me.
As for how I’m feeling, well…..Nauseous, and always craving pickles, and green olives! Constantly drinking milk. Maybe I have a salt defincincy, cause the amount of pickles and green olives I eat is still never enough to curb my cravings!
I have seen my baby 👶 twice now. Heart beat is good, and so far we’re doing well! This whole thing is a lot!
I see the dr again in a week and a half and will be able to hear the heart beat, and get some pictures of my precious little peanut!
So far I’ve gained a total of 5 lbs, but that seems to fluctuate depending on time of day! My clothes are getting tighter and my skin is much more clear then I have ever seen it before. My hair feels much thicker then normal, and it seems to be growing.
I have started to have really weird dreams at night but I hear thats normal! The days seem to be going by really slow! But I’m sure this little peanut 🥜 will be here before I know it, and ill be wishing during those sleepless nights that I could put them back inside.
The room is shaped like the state of Nevada. It has two floors like most county jails. The one difference is, our Gen Pop isnt separated by cells, we are all kept in the same pod, with 35 or so bunk beds between the top and bottom floor. Our day room consists of 7-8 tables depending on how full the pod is and how many females are being housed at that current moment. There is one tv, that we dont have any control over, so a majority of the time, we watch the same channel over and over and over again, day in and day out. The louder the tv, the louder the women, their for its never quiet. Even if you buy a pair of ear plugs off of commissary, they only muffle the sound a little bit.
5am “Line up for Chow, Line up for Chow”, and there you will stay for half hour to 40 minutes waiting for the Juice Boys to bring breakfast. Breakfast is pretty legit, and pretty consistant unlike lunch and dinner which you never know what your gonna get. At first you might pass on your tray and give it to one of the other girls, cause you just cant stomach whats in front of you. Normally it takes a few days to become accustomed to the atmosphere and food.
Everyone is dressed the same. Black and white stripes. And you only get to change out once a week on sundays. There are showers available to use, and its defiantly a MUST to take care of personal hygiene in jail. The jail stripes dont hold to well to body odor and not showering, and 35 women in the same room with those who dont shower can get really nasty. Some of these women are NOT VERY nice about this issue either.
If you have been in custody for a while, you have probably accumulated what they call “whites” and “shower stuff” , and commissary, which makes life in jail a little bit easier and more comfortable. Whites are to be worn under your stripes and most girls wash them every other day, which helps to keep body odor gone and manageable. Showering daily with shampoo and conditioner and soap from commissary is also a huge help.
Before the deputies will move you from Booking to Female General they will ask you a series of questions, one being, “are you going to detox from drugs or alcohol?” 99% of the time, the girls say no, because staying in booking is worse then being in female general while detoxing.
So, you come back to Female General. Its day 3, you go to court, find out that you will not be leaving on an “OR” like everyone hopes for. You know your going to be sick and detoxing, you just arent sure how bad its going to be. The jail will not give you your mental health meds because you have to be seen by the DR first, and hes only there on Thursdays, even though you were put on the list, you still have to wait a week. You know your really gonna go into detox and withdrawal.
And so it begins. Its the worst feeling youve ever felt. No, your not detoxing from Heroin or Meth this time. Maybe some Alcohol. But 17 different Psych Meds that you believed you were on for a “good” reason.
My life has very seldom been boring. If I wasn’t living the madness in reality, Ive been busy creating and telling myself a new story in my head due to something traumatic or damaging that had happened, in order to protect myself and SURVIVE those moments or periods of time.
There came a point when all my life was, was SURVIVAL…and I started learning at a young age.
Emotionally, I felt alone. The detachment and disconnecting started when I was just a little girl. I had this dream. There was me on one side of the pond, and my mom on the other, and alligators in the middle. I had to scream at the alligators in the pond, to just let me get to my mom; who was standing on the other side of the pond. I could never get to her. And every night when I had this dream, I would wake up, and never have gotten to my mom. Those were my nightmares for years. I never knew what it was about, or why, I just knew that I had them. It happened when I was sick, or when I was I afraid of something.
All my life growing up, anytime that I talked about how I felt, I was made to feel different. My fears were crazy and weird to other people, and I was far from popular or much liked in school. I did not have a high self-esteem even as young as I can remember. I remember being in elementary school and being made fun of for how I dressed and for who I was, even tho I was just learning. Back then, you wouldn’t think how you did your hair, or how you dressed really mattered, but it did. I was not the coolest, in the class, and it mattered to me.
Either way, I started to learn how to do this thing, they call, “detaching” Or disassociating. Take myself away to somewhere else and play in my head till it was ok to come back again. (I didn’t know at that time this was what I was doing, I learned later on this is what was happening)
As I grew up, this behavior continued. As a result, I was unable to participate in relationships due to the fact that I couldn’t show up and be apart as a whole. I had done myself damage. Not only had I been on and off drugs since I was 14, but I had taught myself that anytime that I felt unwanted feelings, I would go somewhere else, to get away from those feelings. I also had childhood trauma which led to me deeper into drug use, and deeper in detachment and dissociating.
I feel like my life had turned in a broken record, or a scratched CD. I was on a roller coaster ride I had never heard about. Things were getting worse, and things started happening that I had never imagined before. I just wanted it to end.
It only got worse, and things just continued to go down hill. I wish that I could say that my story turned around here, but it didn’t. Unforntantely I had many more years of misery, and drug use followed here. Its been a long 15 years. Im lucky to be alive. Living the life of a drug addict, with mental health issues, some of us dont live to write about it. I however, did!
They say there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. But some days, it feels like the tunnel just doesn’t end.
I wake up groggy, dreading the thought of making my own coffee—wishing someone would just bring it to me so I could stay in bed a little longer. Still, I get up and stumble into the kitchen, the cold hardwood floor biting at my toes. I accidentally kick the dog because she’s so eager to say good morning, but I’m too out of it to notice she’s even there.
I rub my eyes, yawn, and glance at the clock: 11:00 AM. What the hell? How did that happen? Depression must be creeping in again.
I know I suffer from depression, anxiety and ADHD, which requires me to take medication for mood stabilization but lately, it just doesn’t seem to be working. Not lately, and definitely not today, at least. Maybe that’s why the light at the end of the tunnel seems so dim.
Depression and anxiety—when they set in, they can be as thick as fog, clouding your thoughts, muffling your motivation, and making even the simplest decisions feel impossible. Just like trying to drive through dense fog, you can’t see the path ahead clearly, and everything feels uncertain, heavy, and slow. You move through the day with caution, unsure of what’s coming next, and exhausted from trying to keep going without a clear direction.
But the day drags on. I’ve got a list of things to do, and zero energy or motivation to do it. All I want to do is crawl back under the covers and cuddle with the dog—the only one who seems to listen without barking or talking back. (Of course, she’s a dog, but still—bless her.)
I wonder how I’ll find the strength to do everything on my list. Prayer comes to mind… so I give it a try. But even that feels like a struggle. Every time I begin, a new thought distracts me, pulling my focus in a different direction. I keep starting over, losing my place, getting frustrated. What should take a few quiet moments becomes a long, scattered event that requires much effort. Thanks to having ADHD, even prayer isn’t the simple task it should be. (I’ve come to call this ‘prayer ADHD.’)
Despite my efforts I still feel weak and defeated. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Emotionally. I can’t pin down exactly what the problem is, or even if there is one. Maybe it’s not just one thing—maybe it’s a combination of things, or maybe my anxiety has created mountains out of molehills. Its so much I just cant see things clearly.
The stress of life, of family, of health, past choices, the small things that shouldn’t matter like laundry, a messy house, an empty fridge, the gas light, is suffocating. It can become too much at this point, and become the breaking point.
You’re just… sick and tired of effing tunnels.
Although this reflects part of my truth and reality, my journey with mental health has been anything but linear. It’s been a rollercoaster of highs and lows—moments of clarity and strength followed by seasons of heaviness and doubt. There have been times when I’ve felt like I was finally getting a grip, only to find myself slipping again. But through it all, one thing remains clear: mental health matters. It deserves attention, care, and validation—not just when things feel unbearable, but every single day. If you struggle with depression, anxiety, or any mental health challenge, I hope you can see a piece of yourself in this experience and know you’re not alone. This is hard—and it’s real—but it’s also human. And you are still worthy in the middle of it all.
Surviving The Odds 