(this is probably the realest and rawest shit im ever going to write. and it probably wont make no sense. i really had alot of second thoughts about posting this but idc, its my truth fam. everybody has their own demons to face in this lifetime. )
im an alcoholic. been knew, since i was like 17/18. ive never actually seriously admitted it though. it started of as binge drinking but now im like a combo binge drinker/ alcoholic. when i say it i mean it, but ive never said it seriously.
i have a drinking problem. i abuse alcohol and other substances.
my bitter truth.
i joke and normalize it like “ohh my whole family drinks, no big deal” “its the culture” and that is true. i come from a bloodline that has alot of alcoholics. especially the men, and i was raised by a single father. im starting to understand that that’s a big reason why i enjoy going to the village so much during vacation. like yeah i love my family, but i also get to get plastered at 10am off palm wine because thats when the freshest tapping is done. a 5 minute walk from my compound is my cousins bar, which serves as a free all you can drink buffet for my cousins and i. i swear we almost ran that nigga out of business (sorry T). if im lazy, i can always count on my father’s liqour cabinet. as i type this shit im realizing how i’m constantly surrounded by alcohol and i feel sick to my stomach. i never take in the realities of things until i sit down and write about something. i guess thats why ive never wanted to really talk in depth about it but it’s getting out of control.
the thing that kills me is im so fucking smart. like, not to gas myself but im a fucking intelligent ass woman. i know if i apply myself, i can succeed in anything. God blessed me with more than enough talents. but i also know if i continue like this i’m either going to end up dying from alcohol poisoning before i graduate or im drastically cutting down my life expectancy and a destroyed liver and kidneys are gonna take me out at 45. the scariest part is i dont really care at all?? when im depressed i dont care about shit. like im not looking to die, and im not going to do something harmful that will definetely cause instant death, but if i die..i wouldnt mind. does that make sense? i have no good reason, except that my brain is messed up and I am honestly tired of having to exist as me every moment of everyday.. im exhausted. im depressed. im numb and cold.
im slowly killing myself on purpose by accident and i dont know how to tell people that ‘hey im not just getting lit for the fun of it, i legit am testing the limits of my body and if i die, oh well.’ i dont even know how to react to me saying that so how the fuck can i tell somebody. “hey i’ve struggled with depression since i was 13 and its getting pretty badddd” especially the kind of person i am, i dont really ever open up to people and i cant say something serious without joking…
ohhhh shit i just had a realization. i would never take my own life. but if i die at the hands of alcohol, i think in my mind i believe thats a loophole cause i havent put a gun to my head or jumped of a cliff or anything. which, by the way, im way too pussy to fucking do. so dont even worry about that.
my depression and substance abuse are bffs for life. they join hands and spend their time tormenting me. the summer of 2017 it was so bad, i went through alot of personal shit that just was way too much for me to cope with so i started sipping lean, smoking alot more weed, drinking a ridiculous amount of alcohol and popping tramadol pills every single day , for two/three months straight in ivory coast. i would literally leave the house at the same time as my father went to work in the morning and come back between 2-4am drunk and high out of my mind. it is actually a miracle that i am a functioning human being today. at one point i was going through between 6-10 pills per lean bottle on a weekday and id have minimum two throughout the day, while drinking and smoking. just me alone. then i would go home in the morning and still pop pills before going to sleep. and if i was with my friends on a weekend? it was a madness. it got to the point where my dad would literally tell the gateman to put the barriers up so even if i unlocked the door i couldnt get in after 12, but i would just jump from my neighbours house into ours. or i would come home then sneak back out. smh i actually really put my father through hell.
one of my friends had a mental breakdown from smoking a bad batch of laced weed. another one had a serious kidney issue and was on bed rest for two weeks. two got arrested for possesion of tramadol and weed. another set of drunk friends got into a car accident and one died. the only reason i wasnt in the car was cause i was too tired to go out that night. all this happened within the same month and yet i was still there indulging…invincible bad babe living my best life. little did i know, my own pepper was coming and i was about to go through the absolute worst experience of my life to date. ive never told anybody except one of my cousins, but i think i need to just write about it and let it go.
when i came back…the withdrawal i went through?? hm, that shit was not funny. i would not wish anything like that on my worst enemy. my memory has gaps, and shit but what i remember is for about a month and a half i was experiencing the worst of the symptoms of withdrawal and praying for death every single day just so it would stop. so from mid september to end of october, i felt like shit. everyday i experienced dizziness and confusion. i would sweat and tremble during the night and sometimes hallucinate. my bedsheets would be soaked with sweat every night. my sleep paralysis got worse. when i could sleep i would have frightening nightmares. i felt like a stranger in my own body, i had no control, my whole body was buzzing and sore and hot. i felt so uncomfortable.. the first 4 or 5 days i was vomiting like a fool the whole time. i could only keep bread down. i really thought i was going to die. i felt weak like somebody had drained all the electricity from my limbs. i could just barely stand up long to shower before i would start getting dizzy and naseous. i would get a random headache that would legit cause me to s roll around my bed gripping my head and clenching my jaw with tears streaming down my face. it felt like somebody was cutting down the middle of my brain with a dull knife. my eyes would go out of focus and everything would be spinning. i still get a headache every so often. i would walk literally from my house to a friends place down the street and feel like i was about to pass out. not to mention im anemic and was not taking my iron pills. til today i still have trouble falling asleep for long periods of time. my memory of 2017 is pfft, pretty much non-existent.
nobody noticed though, because id lost alot of weight and my genetics blessed me with good skin. i had “glo’d up”. i looked my best at a period in time when i was going through the worst patch of my life so far. looks can be so decieving. the funny thing is at first i thought i had malaria lmao. i was in so much denial that my body was actually craving drugs even though i would spend bare time asking dealers if they knew somebody that knew somebody.
after that month and a half passed, everything started to subside. i would still randomly get night sweats, and headaches and ofcourse cravings. and i was always lowkey sore during that semester but i was always high or drunk so i rarely felt it until i came down. and i would surround myself with people when i had started gaining enough strength to leave my house. my memory from that period of time is a mess, but one thing i’ll never forget is the way i fucking felt in that bed during those weeks.
even after all of that i can’t lie, as soon as my plane landed in ivory coast in december within two hours i was back on my bullshit. how disgusting is that? luckily, it was not an everyday affair this time as I had to go to Cameroon and didnt have access to tramadol. if not i surely wouldve gone through a bad withdrawal again. i’ve also been blessed to not have run into anyone that sells pills or anything in Canada, for the last year or so. that has really been my only saving grace. because those cravings still hit me Hard. especially when im stressed, or sad, or even happy. any heightened emotion i feel triggers me wanting to get high but lack of availability forces me to get alcohol.
i dont think people understand how deep this addiction thing can be. i legit thought “oh it could never happen to me, im strong enough to not get addicted, its only three months.” see, all of that is bullshit. if you give drugs and alcohol enough time, your ass is getting addicted. especially if you’re depressed, and not in the right headspace. i dont care if you can use your mind to throw cars around, its still going to get to you. and its so much easier when you’re young, cause you’re supposed to be “experimenting” and “finding yourself”. yeah yeah yeah, the only thing i found was trouble. the way i was pumping my system with drugs and alcohol on a daily. and i had already been abusing liqour before i even went to ivory coast so like..the shit just spiraled out of control. its actually terrifying looking back, cause as i was sitting in the bed shaking uncontrollably i still did not want to admit that i had a problem. its only like maybe two months ago when i had a really bad craving for tramadol after something happened and i was sad and stressed that i realized, yo…i fucked myself over in those short three months and the feeling doesnt just go away.. its crazy cause i dont even crave lean at allllll.
nahhh withdrawal was actually so bad. im actually crying thinking about it because i was legit calling out to God begging for forgiveness, can he relieve me of this or atleast let me just die. I would curse him out when i wouldn’t feel instant relief because why would he let his daughter go through this. one time it was so bad i was begging so hard i hallucinated a hand wiping my brow and passed out.
i was always so angry. my goodness. i was pissed at everybodyyyyy. i was angry at God for making me have to go through withdrawal, like he was the one shoving pills and codeine down my mouth. i was angry at stupid Canadian drug dealers and their overpriced pills and lean. i was angry at myself mostly for being so dumb…not because i took pills in the first place, but because i only brought enough to take on the plane lmfaooo. joker. i actually didn’t go to a single class for whole month and two or so weeks. sometimes i would really try, and feel myself getting weak less than half way from my house to campus. the only times i felt okay was when i was drunk or smoking weed. my academics really took a blow. which made me want to drink more. vicious cycle.
do you know what its like to realize that you’re an alcoholic and a pill popper at the age of 21 and have to keep it inside cause it feels like nobody is going to understand. like i wasnt on some “oh let me take ecstasy at this rave” type of pill popping. i was “im gonna sit in my friends garage every single day, watch cartoons and get shitfaced until nighttime then im going to bar/club/restaurant and getting more fucked up.” i was going through alot of shit and i felt like everybody around me was just going to judge. and like i didnt want to deal with all that pitying and shit. i still dont to be honest. ive already taken responsibility for my actions, i admit wholeheartedly that i have a problem…but i dont want you to talk to me about it …
and now im drinking heavy again because i dont want to live with the reality of myself and face life or the fact that as a result of my past actions im probably going to be dealing with this for the rest of my life, because than i have to start digging and figuring out the deep-rooted issues and to be honest id rather be an alcoholic than address certain things. everyday im realizing, this is not something i can wake up and decide to just “get over”, and i think that is really beginning to sink in and its driving me to want to drink more .on the other hand, whats the point of being a self-proclaimed “intelligent woman” if im going to realize theres a problem and not do anything?? like im really gonna sit here and let alcohol get the best of me and ruin my future? over my dead body.
this isnt really a cry for help, or is it? i dont know what this is to be honest. all i know is i can feel myself going down a very self-destructive path and im very apathetic about it, infact…its kind of intoxicating (ha ha *slaps knee*) not giving a fuck. its so much easier than the work i know id have to put in to get better. like alcohol helps me curb tramadol cravings, but theyre still there. and if i decide to stop drinking im dealing with both alcohol and pill cravings, every single day. thats tough and the thought of it gives me anxiety.
i think the part of me thats writing this, is the small part of me that wants to fight for myself. i think i needed to write this, because i needed to speak my truth and also wanted those around me to know the truth without me having to say it out loud face to face. silence hasnt done me any good and this has been weighing heavy on me and theres no way i can get help if i dont air out my dirty laundry. and maybe itll help someone be more transparent with themselves and others…..assuming that anyone actually reads this shit lmao.
anyways this summer in august, my aunt who is pretty much my surrogate mother caught on to the fact that i was abusing alcohol. seeing somebody cry for you, because they want you to stop hurting yourself is heartbreaking. and realizing that even the pleading from them has no effect.. is even worse. i felt like shit because i knew my aunt does not want me to be drinking or smoking, but i refused to stop. thanksgiving, she pleaded again. no effect.
i need help. and by the time your done reading this i’ve already called someone to ask for help. a therapist, a group AA meeting, rehab, i need something because i cant do this alone. ive tried, and failed enough times to come to my senses that my problem is deeper than what a “oh put the bottle down” can fix. also it feels wrong that im trying to better my relationship with God while giving into works of the flesh.
fuck, im so scared. but if i dont do this, im going to end up dead or broke. that is one thing alcoholism guarantees. ive seen enough people get sick/ die as a result to know.
ps. lol my stupid ass wanted to name this “hard pill to swallow” lmfaoo get it????
pss. im just remembering all the shit i went through in 2017, and i actually chested so many things on my own. i was dealing with so much in silence, while putting on a brave face. im a fucking warrior mehhn. like if people only knew the half of it.