Lafnalot
03-10-03, 03:28 PM
I was an undiagnosed bipolar, adhd, ocpd child with family issues of alcoholism, drug use and depression ,violence and other abuses within the family. I always knew I was different but I couldnt put my finger on what, so I translated "different" as "bad" or "wrong" etc. I had always loved stealing my daddies beer and everyone would laugh as lil Christal was found hiding under a table drinking the stolen beer . On my eleven birthday i asked for, and received , a six pack of beer.t Itwas the seventies, they didn't know better, they gave it to me. I savored that six pack because I was suddenly relaxed, slowed down, no longer nervous or anxious. I knew this was what I "needed". I spent the next seven years looking for that feeling again. Chasing the sense of normalcy.Cocain wasn't what I wanted, it made me feel calm, quiet etc. I wanted happy, excited and outrageous by then. I chose meth. Along with my eating disorder I felt I had found my thing, my saviour, just what the doctor ordered.I took large amounts for a small 5' tall, 100 lb person, because it took large amounts to get me where I wanted to go. People started calling me Christal Meth--a pun that I thought was cool. During all this time I drank...........I drank alot. I was now drinking Seagrams, Jack Daniels and other whiskeys. Beer filled me up too fast, I didn't get as drunk as I wanted. The added meth made it possible for me to drink longer. I left home at 17 to live on my own with three other girls in a huge apartment. I remember very little of my time there, except I came home to my mothers house, pregnant and having no idea what I was going to do. I knew I needed to quit using and drinking, I tried. I failed. I lost the baby. The depression that set in can't be described. The self hatred etc. I used on a daily basis til some one told me the way to really do meth was to boot it. Up til then I had felt needle freaks were nuts, and that I didnt have a problem because I never stuck a needle in my arm. I spent the last few months with a needle in my arm, in places I shudder to think about with people who probably arent alive any more. My last drink and high, I came to to have everyone I know not speaking to me, having ruined someones wedding. I ran into a family friend who gave me my first bit of advice, she said "It isnt what you drink or use, how much you drink or use, its what it does to you that matters" It waslike a huge lightbulb went off in my head. I spent the next 17 years staying sober, cycling in and out, trying to change, impulsive, compulsive and growing to beleive that while I was clean and sober, I was just fubar. Beyond help. Finally, a doctor who was also in recovery and had known me since I first got clean and sober asked...."have you ever been diagnosed with ADD?" From that day, I have had ups and downs but I have made more progress internally than I did in those seventeen years without meds, without a diagnosis, wanting to die. This time frame has been the time where all the prayers and questions got answered. i am not crazy, I am not a loser, I am not without hope.