Tag: drugs

Blood Brother

Andy Young1 Comment
Blood family

Blood is thicker than water. I used to believe that. I was a naive 16-year-old saying that. Of course, it doesn’t apply in real life. I grew up and realized that you can have ‘a brother from another mother’. Especially true of O. He’s my best friend, someone I consider more of a brother than anything else. The point of this post is to remind me that I do, in fact, have a brother. The image to the left is on a boat in St Lucia. I can’t remember why we were on a boat, but we were.

We have recently been talking more and more on the phone over the past month or two, and it has been so nice to hear from him. My goodness, he lives a completely messed up life, but he is getting through it.

He has problems with drinks, drugs, and reckless behavior, but I realized, more now than ever, that it’s lonely out here. I think he was lonely too. So the phone calls help. It’s a mutual thing.

Blood family
Blood family

I can’t quite remember what we spoke about, but it was something that only we understood. Complete savagery, but we both knew what we were trying to say. The photo to the right was taken in the Pancake House in North Wales, a special place we used to go to celebrate pretty much anything. Mum was Dutch, and she liked it there. I think she got a kick out of being able to speak Dutch to someone.

And so I end this short post. The people you see to the right are me, dad, mum, and Day. Now, with Mum and Dad being dead, it’s just us two left now. Well, and my whole family here – B, S, and R.

I think it’s such a strange and magical bond that blood brothers and sisters have. I can be away from them for years, then instantly we are back as if it was only minutes apart.

Blood family

So, I don’t actually know what I was setting out to achieve with this post, but I wanted to say that, in conclusion, I’m a little bit happier being in touch with my brother. Even if it won’t last, it was a welcome ear to listen to each other’s problems and try to solve them.

He is a dickhead. But he’s my blood related dickhead. And despite everything that’s gone on, he is my brother. For all his wrongs, he does have some good in him too.

blood brother
Photo by Kuntal Biswas on Pexels.com

I hear toxic. I hear Britney.

Andy Young2 Comments

What are some toxic habits I have?

Ugh.

  1. Lack of empathy, coldness and not understanding – Being a borderline makes understanding other people’s emotions a bit weird. Say I ask you a question and you answer. Most people leave it at the at but no, not me. I’ll be judging the tone of your reply, your body language, and the way you worded it. Everything. Oh god, you must be angry and it’s my fault, Let me cut off my arm or give t you to escape the shame.
  2. Ego – I’m so good at x I can do anything. Skiing down a slope thinking this can’t be hard. Twisted my thumb and almost broke it. That’s just one example.
  3. Wanting to watch the world burn – Nothing gives me greater pleasure than putting myself in a worse position than I already am just for the sake of those words. i.e. Give the beggar all the money I need for rent.
  4. Lying & cheating – Yup usually goes with loyalty but the downside of it.
  5. New social skills – I don’t work well with others because my social skills are somewhat lacking.
  6. Drugs. – And alcohol too. Been clean for a very long time but that voice is and will always be there.
  7. Procrastination. – I will do anything I can to avoid doing the things I need to do.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

QOTD – Puns needed

Andy Young1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
How do you relax?
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4 x 200mg Pregablin
3 x 30mg Codiene
2 x 5mg Valium
1 x Beer/Cider/Rum/Wine

In shorts and a vest, freezing outsie with the window open blowing the freezing air on me.
Lights off.
Bella sleeping next to me.
Thats the cat.

None of which I can do in this motel while they find me a place to live.

But that is as close as to perfection I’ll ever get for real relaxation.

I have issues.

QOTD

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Daily writing prompt
What brings you peace?
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The most simple things in life often bring me the greatest level of peace. Sitting in the garden watching the birds attack the bird feeders. Typing on a new keyboard. I only say that last one because I’ve had to buy a no-noise one as my previous mechanical one was driving B crazy. He can have one but god forbid anyone else does. So that’ll sit in a box till I move out and then I can use it again. Till then? this lovely no-noise one will have to suffice.

Back to the question. I don’t think I can put it into words. I have only felt true peace a couple of times in my life. You know. Total and utter peace, like standing a the edge of a diving board and jumping. That feeling in your stomach when you just let go. Everything around you melts away and its just you, no one else, nothing. Just you and peace. True peace.

The first time I ever encountered it was when I was driving between Manchester and North Wales when my parents were both alive. Just me in the car. The perfect song was playing, it was sunset, the sky a hue of different oranges, and me. I can remember the exact location on the motorway when it happened. It was like all this noise and hectic thoughts built up and up and then crescendo and boom. Total. Utter. Peace. I let go of everything at that moment. I was just existing. Still in control of the car but that was an afterthought.

I’ve never managed to replicate that feeling in over 10 years. It really was that unique. I’ve come close to back in my former drug days. Creating pure adrenaline and the come down from that. It wasn’t even that close.

That was an awesome feeling. Not the drugs one but the driving one. Like the moon, planets and stars aligned all at once for that perfect moment.

Erebus

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“We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

D has taken the kids and gone on a mini-holiday with them, in a boat, in 60 mph winds. It was an interesting moment when I received the text whilst en route to a client to deliver some IT training. Thoughts racing through my mind. “Is this the precursor to her leaving?”, “Have I finally pushed her over the edge?”, “Is the boat code for something else”. A real brain buster when you’ve only glanced at the message, not seeing the preceding or any message after it was sent. I pulled up outside of the client’s house, palms sweaty I picked up my phone and started to read what was going on.

It turns out my BPD-ridden mind decided to warp everything into a negative situation. This is something I manage to keep in check most days, but not today. “She can take anything she wants, I just want my birds and a Nina”. But, alas, she decided to take the kids away as it’s half term here, and I need to work plus the added bonus of two dogs would mean very little space in the car. I calmed down. Composed myself and delivered the training.

I came home and they were all packed up. I gave D the keys to my car since it’s newer and has a breakdown cover so if anything happens I know they’ll be sorted. They got to the boat after a few hour’s drive. I of course naturally took this time to assess my situation. Alone. Three days. This leads to the quote at the beginning of this post. Now, when asked, Bard generated the following answer that 60mg was the highest dose in one day. I can happily inform you dear reader that after taking it for more than a decade the highest dose does nothing. Although I am eyeing up some opiates and wine but I’m fortunately resisting the urge and proving I can be left alone by resorting to old habits, which, as we all know fade hard.

Besides I took chlorpromazine yesterday which totally fu*ked me up for the work meeting this morning. That was just embarrassing. I couldn’t find my words, I sounded shakey and probably looked like a right mess.

Enough of drugs.

*looks for photos*

Yeah, I got nothing. Night!

Oh FFS…

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Woman man or modern monkey
Just another happy junkie
Fifty pounds
Press my button
Going down

Trigger warning: Lets go with drug abuse and see how that goes.

I think my wife summed it up pretty well with the statement “You have hit a new low”. I have a grinder. I imagine it is pretty effective with weed but did you know you can also use it to grind pills into a fine powder? well, I discovered this yesterday.

I’m so sick and done with feeling like this. They did change my meds and increase one of them. But its just. Meds are not the only solution. I need the therapy that goes along side it. I’ve asked and begged them to speed up the waiting list but its just running into a brick wall. I just have to wait and have a half-life until I get the help I need. I was so desperate to get away from feeling constant fear and paranoia, sick that I can’t leave the house, sick of just having the same medication. Its great. But its been more than a decade of taking anti-psychotics, narcotics and drink. I’ve been clean from drugs, uncontrolled drinking and self harm for over a year.

Snorting lines of prescription meds to just to evoke an emotion is a new low. Plus it filled my nose full of the fillers they mix pills with. Nose bleeds and constant pain for a few hours was TOTALY fucking worth it. Thats sarcasm. It was a cry for help but to myself. I did tell the wife because she was probably going to guess something was up with the constant snoting.

I’m ok, had a hell of a headache last night but all the stuff has passed through. Today I have kept myself busy cleaning the house and annoying the dog & cat with music.

I’ve taken some promazine. That should help. Takes the edge off.

Something wicked this way comes

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For some reason unknown to me I havev14 draft posts ranging back from 2009 to now. It’s only now looking at the years that a huge amount of things have changed since those unposted drafts were created. I read a few of them which brought back some nice memories but what surprised me was the mention of “taking a little something” or “quick drink”. It makes you think my god how long have I been abusing my body by taking drugs. Legal and the other kind. And it must of been since I was 12-13 years old to now in my thirties. Christ I took a little something not long ago to chill so I’m still actively doing it. I just never realised before just how long it’s been. Poor liver. No wonder it’s scarred.

I called “the hotline” today to cmht duty. In all fairness it was worth the 3 preceeding hours to the call building myself up to doing it. They gave honest and decent advice. They also have all my records so I don’t have to give them the back story. I called them because of the illogical thinking. I’m aware of it but can’t stop it. There was a decision last week to tweak one of my meds which helps with that problem but not heard back from my gp with a new script. The people on the phone said they’d urgently get in touch with them and get it sorted. Awesome. I’m aware pills are only 10% of the battle but that 10% is a matter of life or death. The help line is open 24/7 and they checked in on me later in the day so quite impressed over the services provided here vs Wales. So Manchester gets brownie points for that.

Today is day 4 of sleeping on my own. My wife has abandoned me for the cooler climates downstairs and to keep an eye on the dog. The heat is causing doggo to have fits so it makes sense. Bella is up here with me so least I have company. Good company.

Tomorrow is the last term at school. S is already learning from home due to the bubble thing but she has an online graduation service at 10am as she goes to high school in September. I’ve vowed to shave and make an effort as it’s a big deal transitioning from primary to big school. B finishes at 1.15pm and will then start the Joy’s of a 6-7 week summer holiday. We’ve managed to book them into a club Mondays through Thursdays so I can still get the community work done and D can focus on her salon. Next weekend we are going camping where I’ll be teaching B and S to fish. I really can’t wait as fishing has always been a passion for me. They’ve got poles so as long as they don’t sling shot the fish over there shoulders when they bite we should be good. Got a new bivvy/small tent, for them to hide from the sun so it’ll be a nice adventure.

Not sure what the plan is but at some point we’ll be heading up to Glasgow to see the family and have a few days in Edinburgh sight seeing. Miss Scotland and certain people from Scotland so that’ll be great. B can meet my half sister who I haven’t seen in years and then show them the sites that me and Dad used to go to when he wasn’t being a twat.

It’s getting late so I’ll revert to a book and then pass-out thanks to Bella who will undoubtedly sit on my chest and smoother me with her tail.

Hope you are all well and that life is good.

21st Century Breakdown

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Hello.

Twenty-first century breakdown
I once was lost but never was found
I think, I am losing what’s left of my mind
To the twentieth century deadline

So. I can’t keep staring at the blank screen so I’ll just see how it goes. Firstly, the meme to the left is aimed more at me than anyone else. No one really bothers me much these days. To much negativity to be dragging around. I suppose of the “features” of the condition is the ability to split and completely without a second thought to it, cut someone out of your life as if they never existed. You can’t always determine who the split will be. If its random then you have no control on the time it lasts. I can split for minutes, hours, days, weeks and months. It just totally depends what “he” decides.

I haven’t split unintentionally for a while now has been good. I’m sort of splitting from myself in a way. I really really hate myself so of course it makes a logical reason to feel that way with myself.

I’m aware you can’t split from yourself no more than can you walk through a wall. But, maybe, in psuedo thinking you could technically split from a personality thats trapped inside you. Or would that be giving up the battle? What if I just said “F*ck it” and be done with it. Accept the person that I’m supposed to be, stop the meds, lose control and let “him” be in charge. Its what he wants any way.

But alas I cannot give in. He knows how to hurt me. He shows me things I don’t want to see. Memories that I dont want to relive when I don’t behave. He knows the ultimate way of putting me down. My FP (favourite person) B. He knows that if he flashes an image of him whilst showing me the memories of sexual abuse when I was in my teenage years. He knows itll break me. Stop me dead in my tracks and throw me off and triggered for an unknown length of time.

See. You don’t get to choose your FP. Its a weird attachment thing that people with certain disorders have where you link or bond with someone and that person, good or bad, becomes the centre of your world. You would do anything to protect them and you would kill them by your own hand rather than expose them to hard. Its extreme. Its both fiery hot and freezing cold. You world crashes down should you think they think a bad thought about you. If it isnt perfect, if it isn’t amazing then you are welcomed with severe stomach piercing feelings. You pray, you beg, you cry out that you didn’t mean to upset them even though its only a tone of voice that you hear. That is slightly off, even if it isn’t there you find it.

Its exhaustive. Realistically, B has saved my life many a time. The simple imaginary look on his face when he hears I have died has silenced many attempts and hospital admissions. Thats not the problem though. I have that, its my safe guard. But the real crux of the problem? control. I can’t lose control, ever. If I let my guard down for a second, the other one moves in. I see flashes of the things he is doing. A creepy smile spreading on my face that I cannot stop.

Addiction. Not ideal when you want to lose control and escape for a few hours. I can’t abuse drugs any more. Well thats true and not true. I can sedate myself with prescribed meds and chill out for a few hours without losing control and so long as I don’t do it for days on end. I havent injected since 2012 which near year will be a ten year victory. I used to be addicted to Ampthetamine.

Not my most glamrous part of my life shooting up to deal with the world, to go to work, to behave, to stay awake. B was born in 2011. So the added pressures were used, for lack of a better word, excuses to abuse the hell out of my body. Those drugs made me lose control several times leading to social services intervention and a whole fun host of other things including the police.

That ten year victory sounds good now having just typed that.

I don’t think I’m at risk right now to be injecting. I’m just babbling about things that can cause the lack of control to occur, to free my other me.

Control. Got to walk the line. Which is incredibly thin sometimes.