I didn’t admit this to myself until the addiction was out of control and my life was ruled by my heavy addiction.
In 2010 I became desperately ill and spent around 3 years in hospital barely going home during that time. I almost lost my life twice.
Being this unwell stemmed from the serious domestic abuse I suffered for 17 years while I was with my ex husband. Long story.
Obviously the surgeons needed a way to keep me pain free. That’s when I got hooked up to a morphine drip. Whenever I was in pain all I had to do was press the button and a dose would enter my blood stream through the central line.
I was also on Tramadol (for the pain)…. Cyclizine (anti sickness)…. Temazepam (sleeping tablets) and lots more.
Not just the recommended dosage. Half a pill here. An extra pill there. I was doubling and trebling some doses.
Whenever my ex did anything I’d immediatley go to my drawer and take a cocktail of pills and swallow them. I always felt better. They knocked me out. I would fall asleep and not have to think of what had happened to me.
I was hooked.
I wasn’t addicted. I needed them for medical reasons.
That thunderbolt moment.
I’m an addict.
Not just any addict.
A drug addict.
Eventually with a huge amount of willpower and patience and having time to myself to go through the withdrawal process I managed to slowly cut down all the pills I was taking.
But so far I’ve been able to stick to it.