Dear Ann: Did you ever use while at work?
I read your question and was shocked at the tsunami of shame that I felt.
Even after all these years I continue to feel intensely horrible about this.I am loath to admit that yes, I used while at work.I want to crawl under a table; whither and die - I do not wish to disclose this terrible truth.However, this is the icy reality I re-live, I can never escape what I have done.Without recovery, these shameful feelings would most certainly drive me back to my drink.
No one knew I was an addict; I felt afraid to disclose because I was always ashamed.To compensate for being an addict, I overachieved and tried very hard to do well.I excelled at my work and consistently received outstanding performance reviews.I was a top honours student (in university that is; I barely passed high school).I discovered pot at 14 years old and smoked it five times a day.The only time I felt accepted by others was when I was high; it seemed people liked me better that way.
I felt insecure and was bullied when young.At 12 years of age, my family moved to a new city. I promised myself then, that I would never be made fun of, ever again.I pretended to be confident and self assured; I did everything I could to be popular with kids.Alcohol and pot became my best allies. Using was the only time I felt comfortable with others.
Alcoholics, addicts, we feel different from you.
Even before our first use we knew something was wrong.
Until that magical first drink/drug, we feel we do not fit in. There is a subtle yet omnipresent angst which is soothed only by use.It is powerful, wonderful and the only way to even slightly OK.
I completed nine years of post-secondary education while using and during this, received accolades, recognition and always top honours - including a coveted University President's Scholarship Award.
Despite all this success, I felt completely a fraud.
Only alcohol and drugs, not academic achievements nor sterling reviews provided me any confidence or ease.
No matter how well I did, I believed I was horrible, evil, an immoral person.
No one knew my sordid secret.Even in rehab, while sitting amongst other professionals in recovery (doctors, lawyers and RCMP) I was frequently told "Ann, no matter what you say, I can never believe you're an addict. You just don't look like one!"
I suppose addicts need two heads, neon signs and bloody needles stuck in their arms.
I completed graduate work while popping over the counter (easy to buy) Tylenol 1: 10 to 12 tablets, 4 times a day.Acetaminophen can be toxic to the liver.For ten years, I consumed over 12,000 mg/day (max recommended daily dose is 4,000 mg).To offset the caffeine in these pills, I swallowed 10 Gravol each night, to help me to sleep.
I hate myself for doing this.
Even though I know addiction is a medical illness and not something I chose, I still believe I am somehow at fault.
I am evil and horrible and feel toxic shame.
Without recovery, these feelings drive me to use. I need more drugs for relief but shortly after, find only pain.With more pain, I use more drugs which then in return, causes more pain.
This excruciating cycle seems never ending.
Until I find recovery, I know no other way out.
