Alcohol does not ease the pain and stresses of daily life, as much as I thought otherwise for a long, long time. I lost my job at 32, my daughter left me to live with her father, my boyfriend of 6 years left me for a prettier woman, and my depression became overwhelming. I did not want to deal with life. My choice of medication was booze. It started off as a couple glasses of wine to take the edge off. Then I started day-drinking by myself. Relaxing at the end of a long day came to mean beers or Jack on the rocks. I didn’t know that my depression refused to fade because the booze made it worse. I thought drinking was just allowing me to cope until it passed.
If you learn how to change your diet while attending rehab, it can inspire you to remain sober. This simple change can prevent relapse. Your diet was not likely very good prior to heading to rehab. It probably consisted of eating relatively irregularly. Plus, it was probably eating whatever was around, not making healthy meals. By trying to change your diet at rehab, you can fix some of the damage you did during that time. It just takes a bit of consistent effort.
Have you considered staging a professional intervention for an addict? Or maybe having one for yourself to inspire you to get help? If not, you may want to. There are quite a few benefits that come along with a professional intervention. They know how to talk about what is going on, and have more experience with the process than you do. For help on staging the right intervention for the addict in your life, consider reaching out to a professional. It may make all the needed difference.
When I was 25, I found myself actually making my addiction worse, rather than seeking help; I was ashamed of addiction in myself. I got into pills after a lower back surgery at 23. When my prescriptions ran out, I found other methods. I was raised believing that addicts were scum and that it was a conscious decision to partake in such despicable crimes. “Don’t do drugs” was drilled into my brain from the first day of school, it seemed. What happens, though, when the doctor is the one that gives them to you? I took them as prescribed, but it turned out I had a highly addictive personality after not having ever taken a medication that strong before. The pills ran out and I experienced withdrawal for the first time, and went to go find more.
I was an alcoholic for six years before my son’s death, and I used his passing as my recovery tactic, and my inspiration for sobriety. I was never the mother that my kids deserved, but no one could have loved them more than I did. My son was diagnosed with Leukemia when he was 12, and at that point my drinking skyrocketed. I made sure he made it to every appointment early and made sure he got every dose of medicine exactly when he was supposed to. I took excellent care of my kids, it just so happened I just was not as able to take such good care of myself. Blake never knew that I drank. Hell, my husband barely knew how bad it was. It was my own personal escape.
I got clean for my husband, and as much as I wish I could say I motivated myself through rehab, it was really always him. My husband and I were married for 20 years when he was diagnosed with metastatic pancreatic cancer. We were high school sweethearts, and honestly, he was the one and only love of my life. He got me through a lot of obstacles over the years, from my mother’s passing to my business transfer across the U.S. Our 20 years were a rough 20 years, but every single step was worth it because of him. When I had back surgery, I accidentally got myself hooked on the pain pills. This was shortly before his diagnosis.
My overdose was not planned, nor was it expected. I was addicted to benzodiazepines. These were originally prescribed to me to help me deal with my anxiety and to help me sleep at night. Over time, I started using them more than prescribed and in ways that I knew were dangerous. I was playing a risky game, and I knew it. I was 20 when it happened, but before the big day I didn’t think anything of it. What was the worst that was going to happen? It turns out, mixing these medications with alcohol and/or opioids can prove particularly problematic.
Learning to love myself was likely the most difficult thing that I have ever had to do. I went to luxury rehab when I was 26, thanks to my grandma and grandpa. They offered me the best support system a girl could ask for. I had gotten into a little trouble in college and found myself in a rut after graduation. I could not hold a job, I could not get clean, and I could not get myself out of the toxic group I called “friends.” Luckily for me, my family saw where I was headed and stepped in. That intervention changed my life in more ways than one.
I would like to think that I will be better down the line than I am right now. I am 36 years old, and up until about three weeks ago, I abused pain pills like they were candy. It was a disaster, and I didn’t look for help for years. I knew that I was slowly killing myself, but I didn’t care. It was a habit that I had had off and on since college. So, what if I shouldn’t, I thought, who cares? When my sister passed unexpectedly during the birth of her son, I flew out to Denver for the services. I didn’t bring any pills with me. Realizing just how bad the withdrawals were for even such a short time, it set in just how much I needed help.
There are times where it is more appropriate to use intervention letters than to speak in person. It can make a bad situation easier. Using intervention letters is not always the best course of action. Plus, they tend to be slower in terms of getting someone to consider help. However, they can be a great tool when used the right way. If you need help getting through to an addict you care about, an intervention letter may be the best tool in your arsenal.