There is this little orange pill that haunts my dreams. Every other pill in my life did not haunt me in the way that this one does. Even knowing what it does to my mind and my body and my brain - I still think of it fondly. And then I slap myself, metaphorically, and wake the fuck up because Adderall destroyed my life - BUT, BUT - it also destroyed my life to the point in which I broke open, fell apart, and finally got clean - and not just clean, but sober - free, happy, at peace.Read More
For years, I hid my addiction to prescription pills. In fact, I didn’t even want to call it an addiction. If I called it an addiction, then that meant I had to quit and I wasn’t ready to do that. There’s a part of me that wishes I would have asked for help earlier than I did. But, there is also a part of me that knows every experience I went through was part of a perfect, divine plan that led me to become the woman I am today.Read More
Over the last three years of my sobriety, I have grown accustomed to talking. Telling my story. Sharing all of me; the dark and the light. But, in a case like mine, this isn’t the usual story. We might have a safe space in a church basement, among friends who understand the beauty of destruction, but where is this safe space in the world?
I am one of the millions of women in this country who will abuse prescription pills. Pills prescribed by a doctor with no intent to get out of control or cause chaos. In fact, abusing substances didn’t seem to be in my make-up or my biology. It was dangerous and I knew it. I have a history of alcoholism in my family. My solution to this was to not drink. I even wrote poems about the destruction it took on my family, watching my grandmother pass out and fall over continually as a child was enough to turn me away from alcohol for life. I wrote poems about spitting in red wine, because I wanted to be nothing like her, not even compared to her. I didn’t want addiction to enter my bones. Yet, it did and it has.Read More