New Snow in Recovery

I start this space fresh with new hopes and desires.  I am a writer who has plunged into recovery this past year with a severe detox from pharmaceuticals in March. My recovery has been nothing short of a miracle, with my mind and body ravaged with withdrawals and physical disabilities beyond my imagination. I do not know writing without the aide of drugs prescribed by my doctors. I was nothing more than a "licensed prescription junkie."  Today, I am clear-minded and sober, doubtful of my creative abilities to fill this space with savory, sleek, prose which flies off my fingers onto the keyboard without a second thought.  I am a writer, without their vice, no longer under the influence of drugs, propelled with the insanity which accompanies them. 

The snow flies through the air on this late December day, as Christmas creeps up on me, with the silence of my thoughts, diminishing my ego's eye for the written word and creative thought.  I am nine months into recovery and my mind has been silenced for the entire time, as my fingers have yearned to return to the keyboard, regaining the noise with which they speak through me to this blank page. 

Blank pages have frightened me dearly in the last nine months as I have started and stopped on numerous occasions, sitting  at my laptop and willing  words to appear from my soul in the space before me.  

Today I visited a psych-ward where I was not the patient.  Such a new breath-taking experience, where I truly relished my new found sobriety and health.  It is hard time of year to be in a hospital, but especially a psych hospital. I can't imagine Christmas on a psych-ward where you are away from your home and normalcy. I will do my best to bring a new Christmas to the ward on Monday, and everyday up till then I will continue my brave face and bring my new body and mind which sits on the other side of mental illness. 

Corey Britton

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Struggle

Today is a day I am struggling to get by.....the winds of addiction are strong and gusty. I aim to steer myself in a direction other than bed and sleep. Sort of like the disconnect I experienced while on dry goods.

The fight is real and hard to say the least. I am befuddled at the swiftness and the turn in the tides. Just a few days ago my mind was clear and mending-last night and today I have experienced major setbacks.

The pain is gnawing like a tooth needing to be pulled. Just like a bad tooth, I fear the consequences of such a demise in my recovery. Using is not an option which makes things even worse. I must rise above the anguish and put out the fire of seeming defeat and desire to return to my old ways of yesterday.

I am reminded recovery is so delicate and fragile-I am finding strength in the fact the streets are not an option for this addict. I wonder does this make me less of an addict or a sucker for pain and suffering? Alcohol does nothing positive for me so it is not even an option to quell my demons of NOW.

Why this turn in my recovery? Where did I run astray or go wrong in my practice? Is this a natural monster every addict must face at one or more times in their recovery?

Seven months into this new way of living and I feel licked; cut off at the knees. Is more recovery based therapy necessary? Do I have potholes in my comeback from pharmaceuticals? I do know what doctor to go to in order to get my fix however, I resist the temptation for reasons I do not understand.

Is this an unseeming strength in my newbie recovery? Am I finally fighting the fight that every successful addict in recovery fights?

The answers are unknown however, the bed and sleep beckon me to the edge of oblivion. If only for a few hours of peace without mayhem and internal unrest.

There is no one I want to speak with in terms of what ails me. Whatever my Truth I must face it alone. I know this isolation all to well from active addiction. The feeling is somewhat surprisingly comforting,

Me at my computer, home at last with my words. I pray tomorrow brings a dose of necessary serenity I once held so fast.

For today I must hold tight and weather the storm, like a fisherman at sea unwilling to succumb. I have bought homoepathic flu medication to aid in my discomfort I pray will pass sometime in the night.

I am scared of tomorrow but excited for this moment to pass. I cannot continue in the state I am in as it threatens all of me and consumes my mind and body.

No matter what tomorrow brings, sleep is my friend from the lonely desperation I feel in my soul.

To all of you struggling, you are not alone. Today this addict joins you in the fight for your life. My well-being must survive no matter the pain.

I join you in this whirlwind of want and discomfort. I know this is part of the journey of recovery, although I believed I was different and wouldn't need to fight this fight.

I am here, I am with you, no matter what tomorrow brings for you or even myself. I am changed and will not forget this moment nor will I ever think I am different and spared the chaos that recovery brings.

COREY

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Tunnel Vision

I just celebrated seven months of sobriety last week. I pray these next six months of recovery bring the physical healing which I am needing to see to get to well. I am still "off" physically with slow motions, a bit of a far away stare in my eyes, and a less than stellar physical appearance.

Sadly my early morning recovery meeting is sort of stale-I do wonder if it is my recovery as a whole is starting to suffer. My spiritual condition is less than optimum and my relationship with my sponsor is not going so great due to her age and well-being.

I am determined in my recovery to stay clean and get my head on straight with the help of meditation, reading, and writing.

For the first time in my recovery, I am struggling in my mental clarity. Feelings of overwhelmingness and despair fill my head and dance a harsh dance on my fragile mind.

Desperate thoughts of what next? How do I pick up the pieces of my shattered life-play reckless havoc on my psyche as serenity has abandoned me and left me nekkid in constant worry.

I know if I get back to my recovery principles and practice them over and over again, I will regain my precious serenity and PEACE which currently elude me and my well-being.

I am up early going back to my morning meeting which saved my life only seven short months ago, bringing me hope and a path in which to navigate the myriad of incomplete, bleak, and dark as black coffee feelings I harbored in my early days of recovery.

Stephanie and I are heading with my family to a barrier island in Florida where my parents live for Thanksgiving. We are both looking forward to the getaway and a change of scenery from everyday life and the mundane.  We are going for ten days, and plan to spend as much time on the beach and  in the sun and sand as possible.

Today is a particularly hard day. I am down, have very low energy and feel overall malaise.  I am doing my best to press through it but it is difficult and wants to send me right to bed at 1:00 pm in the afternoon. I wonder if I am getting depressed for the first time in my life or if it is just a recalibration of my body and mind in the next phase of recovery.

I am sad and feel stress about moving beyond recovery and into a productive life where I am doing what I do best and excelling at whatever I chose to do.

Right now I find solace in bed, and refuse to eat so that I can drop the last of the weight I gained in recovery. Right now I am just off, and think probably some rest is exactly what I need to move forward.

I hope to write tomorrow with a more upbeat post but being honest about where I am at, at this moment is important.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Clarity

I am very happy to report that U-ME is stronger than ever. Stephanie and I are so happy and so in love! She and I are madly in love and my sobriety has just brought us closer.

We celebrated my birthday again last night with my parents, ex-wife, and my daughter.  U-ME celebrated my birthday Saturday night in downtown Portsmouth. Lots of presents and cakes. My ex-wife made me two upside down pineapple cakes which were a real treat.

Saturday I attended two recovery meetings, and got just that much closer to 7 months of recovery. A week from today, I celebrate 7 months of recovery and I can not believe how fast it is  going.

I am giving myself one year from my sobriety date (03/18/17) to get well and heal my body and mind. A lot of physical problems were left after my initial recovery and with each month that passes I am getting better and my physical ailments are dissipating.

My withdrawals have ebbed, and all the shakes, twitches, and tremors have passed-THANKFULLY. It was a murderous time those first three months when I realty wasn't right and I brought new meaning to the word "OFF."

I am still battling weight issues, as my anorexia has kicked in and reared its ugly head as only it can do. I am still losing the weight I gained in recovery, but inch ever closer to my ideal weight for me.

I hope to return to school in January, but will take my time until March when I celebrate one year of  recovery.

Stephanie and I are getting a roommate to fill up an empty bedroom on one of the upper floors. We will be heading to Florida for Thanksgiving in late November with my daughter and ex-wife.

I am getting ready to return to blogging daily very soon, and will blogging about daily life and other subjects other than recovery as they arise.

Recovery is a main focal point of my life at this time but that is slowly evening out to be more reasonable than it has been. I have been just attending one meeting during the week this week and that is enough as I work the steps with my sponsor. I know lots of people don't believe in the twelve steps but for me they are a good groundwork for everyday living as well as recovery.

Today we show the room available to rent to our first person. Later today another person is coming by and then tomorrow another person is coming and finally on Friday another person is coming by to look at the room. It is a really great deal for the right person and for us as well. Hopefully we will find the right match and they will move in for November 1st.

I have to start getting up at 1 am again like I did when I took Adderall. I sleep a lot now due to recovery as I need my rest, and find myself sleeping quite a bit.

Hopefully I will return to this blog regularly in the very near future.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Be The Change!

Yesterday was my 41st birthday. My first birthday in twelve years without pharmaceuticals or alcohol.

I was so happy to wake up into a new birthday yesterday clear-minded and drug free as I started my birthday with well wishes and a recovery meeting!

I had an amazing day with well wishes and going out to dinner with my family. This weekend I will celebrate my birthday with Stephanie and my ex-wife and my daughter Bella. I saw all of them last night

Recovery is so fucking amazing as my physical wellness improves daily and my spiritual and mental wellness are improving at another rate as I digest the readings and take in the meetings daily.

My weight is dropping as my anorexia is rearing its ugly head once again. I gained nearly 20 pounds during detox and have lost most of it now as I restrict my food intake. 

U-ME is going strong, and enjoying our new life together in my sobriety. Stephanie is very supportive of every aspect of my recovery and doesn't mind me attending any of the meetings I choose to attend. Recovery meetings give me the opportunity to talk with fellow addicts and share and listen to their stories and climb out of the cellar. Nobody shares the exact same story but their is always something to learn from a fellow addict. The newcomer is just as important as the person with years of sobriety. Everyone has something to share and offer to every meeting. I have never attended a bad meeting. There is something always to learn from each story or share between one addict to another.  I have never not learned something new at a meeting I have attended. I have shared my entire story once, but am really not ready to share my story with a room full of fellow recoverers.

I remain grounded in my recovery and free of all mind altering chemicals besides caffeine. I still drink a cup of coffee or two but that is it for this Corey. I cant say enough about my recovery. It was extremely hard and almost impossible during detox with the withdrawals but now it is more about recovery rather than survival.  I felt at the beginning my body was breaking but now the physical pain as dissipated and recovery is filled with happy, joyous and free feelings.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Mighty-Addiction

September 18th, 2K17 made six months of recovery. What a fucking shit-storm with joy, hope, and peace at the end!

No, nothing has been easy, but I will say being clean, and clear minded is a gift that I can not do justice too.

Being free from pharmaceuticals and the ensuing mind-fucking that taking them created is liberating like seeing your face for the first time after being blind. I say blind, because I became blind and numb to my environment, people, and most of all my feelings, while taking pharmaceuticals.

I have blindly been searching for a miracle from prescription drugs. The physical and emotional withdrawals I experienced in my first two months of recovery was inhumane. I flailed every afternoon from 1-6pm with no relief besides the aide of an ill-equipped visiting nurse who was so ineffectual it was truly pathetic; just like I was at the time.

Today is different. I live with a canopy of fucking awesomeness. I no longer ache for that which is toxic to my body and mind. Sure, I long for the pills I no longer ingest-I ache for the golden elixir of Adderall and coffee I used to take at 1 am in the morning.

It might happen that I end up back on Adderall a bit further in my recovery. With my untreated mania, I am not doing so well in that department.

My anorexia is rearing its ugly head, after putting on twenty pounds in recovery from laying around and being very inactive. On top of that, I had my foot reconstructed on July 20th, where it was broken and pinned with one and fifty stitches. I took Percocet for 5 days without any problems and did not take the Oxycotin which was concurrently prescribed for me. Yeah, again a bit of a badass but I didn't want to take the pills any longer than necessary.

My foot is now healed, and my restricting with my eating is high again. I am trying very hard not to partake in such behavior, however, I am not comfortable with the weight gain. My face looks healthy, but the rest of me......ugh! Something needs to change!

I want people to know getting clean is possible! It hurts-a lot for sure but the rewards are endless.

I still attend recovery meetings, on an early morning basis-but you surely can do it without them. I get that drugs are fun, and the mind-altering is without a doubt crazy fun.

I am just here to share my story, and right now this is where I choose to be.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

A Moment in Time

Every morning I attend a support group at a non-profit club. Today was a big day with a new twist. There was a new person attending the meeting who is an addict straight out of rehab. He is suffering just like I did for two months. I recognized his look, his shakes and tremors and the look of hopelessness in his eyes.

I was able to speak to him after the meeting and let him know that he was not alone and that he will begin to feel better in about sixty days.

Recovery work is a three prong approach: physical, mental, and spiritual. The first and most desperate need is for physical reprieve. Battling withdrawals is the single hardest item that an addict must conquer. Time is the only answer. Not other pills or drugs but time. Time heals and as time passes for the new addict the body eases into a place of less nerve endings and receptors on fire from the lack of chemical dependence. There is no quick, fast, or painless road through this process. As an addict with almost five months of sobriety, I could not do again what I did by the Grace of my Higher Power to get here. I would die for sure, and I am not exaggerating. A 16 day phenobarbital taper off of Xanax and Adder all after twelve years of use was no joke and the storage of toxins in my muscles was long lasting.

Ending up on a cardiac floor near death and unsure if I was going to make it was something I will NEVER forget or do again. My withdrawals after the discharge from the hospital were horrid and I suffered terribly and wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I am so grateful I went through it though, and by the grace of my higher power came out the other the side, after two months of bone searing withdrawals. Now instead of being in survival I am in recovery and my life is the best it has ever been.

I still struggle with anorexia but I am working hard on that as I don't want to traverse that path again.

I am here for anyone struggling or thinking about reaching out for help. I will write once again about the greatest of the drugs when I took them but felt this post was long overdue.



"Every afternoon from 12:00pm to 5:00pm I wailed in agony and cried to my family and friends that my body was breaking and I was breaking. After two months of this torture I entered the mental phase of my recovery.

Here I learnt I could and would make it through the day without any sort of drug or mind-altering chemical. It was not easy and my legs were shaky with lack of confidence for a brave new world I didn't know without drugs.

Lastly came the spiritual piece of my recovery. Here I learnt a power greater than I was my only answer, along with good doctors and an excellent care team. As I mentioned I am less than five months into my sobriety and only beginning to scratch the surface of my peace and my hopeful impending serenity.

I would be untruthful to say this still doesn't hurt-it hurts a lot; everyday.

However, hope is the greatest medicine of all time and with that today I am ready to face a new day and step forward another day deeper in my recovery."

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Kicking It Or It Kicks You

Yesterday a young mother in her early thirties with three young children died of a heroin overdose. This isn't truly news worthy as it is a weekly occurrence it seems but she was working hard in recovery so it came as a huge surprise and was devastating to the community.

As a former user of prescription opiates who found myself dependent and went cold turkey off of them I am connected to the heroin community and moreso the heroin anonymous group at our support club.

It appears as I just celebrated three months free and clear of Xanax, Adderall, alcohol and caffeine that my medical  detox following my cold turkey opiate withdrawals was a walk in the park compared to these young addicts suffering on the streets with not a lot of places to turn.

I go as a prescription drug addict to a daily meeting at 7:30 am Monday through Friday which is technically an AA meeting but everyone sees it as a drug is a drug. This support group has saved my life and I am reminded today that I was able to get medical intervention and hospitalization, followed by visiting nurses and a massive amount of support group meetings with mentors with many years of sobriety.

My friends on the streets are not as fortunate. Many heroin users start out as opiate users like myself, who liked the pills, then turned to the streets for pills and when the pills got too expensive they turned to the cheapo heroin. Barely nobody makes it back from heroin. I see proof of miracles in the heroin community daily but another senseless death like last night destroys the little progress being made.

I am finally passed the ninety day mark of recovery and no longer battling withdrawals. I wouldn't wish what I went through on my worst enemy. I was so far from being okay. I couldn't speak, my entire body shook, my eyes twitched, my arms and my hand shook violently-it was a nightmare and it went on for almost two months. Finally I am back to a better normal and so glad I went through what I did to get through the prescription detox and off the medication.

I am a big proponent of prescription free life and will work everyday to keep my sobriety. I have a foot surgery coming up on July 20, 2K17 and I already have the drugs for pain at my home for the upcoming surgery. I have to take opiates as my foot is getting broken in two places and a piece of bone is being sawed off. I have had for over two weeks prescriptions for OxyContin and oxycodone sitting on my bureau. I wasn't addicted to them my body grew dependent on them. I have no desire to take them early and my surgeons do not think I have a problem with opiates. My sponsor doesn't want my to take the OxyContin since it is the closest thing to heroin. Not my gig and I NEED both medications for this severe surgery. I am not nervous about taking them since it is for no more than eight days. I have been referred to a pain clinic and I refuse to go since pain clinics are where addicts are made. This is the very first operation in many operations I have had that I am actually nervous about. Having my foot broken in two places scares me as my bones may be compromised from anorexia and I hope my foot breaks according to plan. I will willingly take anti-anxiety medication once I am at the hospital and let them know I am nervous. I am not asking nor will I take Xanax. I am not that dumb, I know I can NEVER touch Xanax again as I can never go through a medical detox again for Xanax and I know how much I like it and how it stores up in my body in my muscles and it took two months after the medical detox to withdraw from Xanax completely. It was the most horrific experience of my life and how I didn't turn to alcohol is a damn miracle. It would have been so easy to go to the liquor store and get vodka and take the edge off the withdrawals. I don't know how I didn't do it and neither do people in my support groups who really questioned whether I would truly survive my detox. If I told you it was a higher power as I understand it, you would probably laugh, so go on and think I am a rad badass who went through opiate withdrawals and then detoxed off of Xanax, Adderall, and caffeine in a span of twelve weeks.

I see a new psychiatrist now who saw me for the first time two months ago and told me I was violently withdrawing from the Xanax. She put me on a valium regime-a taper of sorts but said I will always need to be on something of some sort. I immediately felt better and she basically saved my life. I was withdrawing from Xanax since March and saw her in May.

I KNOW I am a badass and nobody could do what I did voluntarily. Remember, I didn't have to come off anything and throw in giving up alcohol with the opiates and I am seriously badass and capable of pretty much anything. It has made an already confident person like myself even more confident. I don't think there is anything I can't do or accomplish. My sobriety I wear as a badass badge of honor I will never give up.

I have become addicted with Martin Shkerli, the pharm bro who raised the drug from 13 dollars a pill to 750 dollars a pill. He is under indictment for other reasons other than raising the drug as it is not illegal to raise drug costs in this country. His trial just started and he has plastered himself all over social media and I am fixated on this dude and whether he is as evil as the world thinks he is or if like his 100k followers on YouTube or Facebook think he is a fucking hero. I am spending hours over days watching his videos and I am fascinated by his smugness and his cocksure attitude. Best addiction I could probably have right now.

I miss the good old days of Xanax and Adderall but know I am a healthier and better person being clean from the dope. Alcohol went by the wayside with the support group meetings and I have thought of vaping but I can't bring myself to do it. Everyone at heroin anonymous vapes. It is like the substitute of choice besides the Suboxone or Methadone they are taking daily.

Thinking what I can do to help other addicts. The heroin community is my peeps and they are dying weekly. I mean every time a person uses heroin they have a 33.3334% chance of dying. Surely this is too high a percentage to right mindedly use this drug of mayhem and death. Compared to AA where people have 40 plus years of sobriety HA people are exceptional with 20 months of not using dope. Most of them started out on opiate pills and I have no idea why I didn't get a happy feeling taking pain pills and get addicted just like all of them. The typical story goes like this: addict got a prescription for opiates for some real pain, they loved the pills and when their legit scripts ran out they turned to the streets for the pills. Then the pills got too expensive and they fucking turned to heroin because it was cheaper. Why that isn't my story I don't know and sometimes I feel guilty. I have my deceased alcoholic dad to thank for my aversion to addiction or dependence. I loathe it for myself and I am scared to death of it. I have always worried about liking something too much and I was heading that way with Xanax. Hence the voluntarily detox. If I wanted to go back on it, there are plenty of doctors who will prescribe it to me. NOT interested.

Nervous about putting opiates in my body again, but I haven't a choice and I am only taking them for a maximum of 8 days. That is all the surgeon thankfully will prescribe. I will be staying at my parents with Stephanie since they have no stairs to climb and my mom will be handling my opiates once I have the surgery. I know I would never abuse them, I just want to do it the right way and not put myself in a situation where I have my foot broken in two places with screws on the inside and a pin sticking out of my foot and let pain decide for me to take pills early or take more than I am prescribed. I will keep you posted on my surgery journey as this isn't the last one and my next one is hugely invasive per the surgeon's opinion which means it is fucking really bad since surgeons never think anything is a big deal.

Corey
BORN THIS WAY-2K17

The Golden Hour

It used to be back when I was still taking prescription drugs that my Golden Hour was approximately 1:00 am in the early morning when I would walk with my dog to the 24 hour store, buy my French vanilla latte and come home  and take an Adderall to create my 5-6 hour golden elixir.

Those days have been over for almost three months and now the highlight of my day is taking extra strong diet pills at around 6 in the morning to get the buzz from the energy emitted from these tiny bad boys.

I knew when I was taking my golden elixir just how good I really had it-not a blog went by that I didn't mention it, and I don't think my readers minded hearing about my tincture daily. I believe many of the other maniacs keeping such hours like myself reveled in the Adderall and Xanax combination I had going for over twelve years.

Now, I sleep closer to 4:00 am and I wait until close to 6:00am to take the diet pills to power me through my early morning of heading to my support club to make the coffee and set up for the support group meeting I attend every Monday through Friday from 7:30am to 8:30am,

The diet pills mixed with coffee are a decent buzz but nothing compares to the pink Adderall tablets I took religiously. I can't find diet pills any stronger than the ones I am taking now and they barely make my heart skip a beat.

Medical detox has been a killer as I went through a hospital stay starting on March 6th, 2K17 and got discharged on March 18rh, 2K17. I came out of the hospital for nothing for the withdrawals I was experiencing at the time or the ones that got ten times worse as the phenobarbital wore off in my system,

It wasn't until about a month ago, when I thought I had become a lost cause, with the inability to write, talk in complete sentences, and drink without drooling that I met a new head doctor who after taking one look at me told me I was in a state of severe withdrawals and needed to go onto a high valium taper to detox humanely. Her name is Lisa, and this woman saved my life and gave me my old self back to a great degree.

Thus far, I haven't really started a taper off the high dosage of valium she initially put me on because I am still going through mighty severe withdrawals. I am on a very high dose of valium: 25 mgs three times a day: that is right a total of 75 mg of valium of a day. It is what is needed to combat the 10 mg of Xanax a day I took for twelve years.

I recently asked her about going back on Adderall and boy is she good; she said and give you a speedball combination? I never knew what a speedball was because I never have done illicit drugs but essentially the high I loved from the Adderall that I loved to chase with a two mg bar of Xanax was essentially a speedball. It was such an amazing combination.

I think often about doctor shopping because I know I could get back on the Adderall and Xanax no problem, but I have come this far through holy hell with the medical detox to go back onto the very shit that caused this speedsplatt situation.

I am trying a new diet pill today and just took my first two pills at 3:00 pm. I am hoping for a kick in of zip that I can do a dance with, with my valium script. It wont be like the Adderall/Xanax but maybe close enough to make me get up again at 1:00am.

I will blog tomorrow with an update but right now this prescription addict has got to get moving or I am going to fall asleep and it isn't even 6pm.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Mitigating Factors

The mitigating factors of my recovery from medical prescription detox are time and the Valium regime I was put on by my new psychiatrist over three weeks ago. Both of these factors have changed my life.

Time, has a way of passing the discomfort and re-positioning it into a parcel that is easier to swallow and grapple with. The first month out of the hospital before I was treated properly for my ongoing withdrawals I was writhing in bed in utter discomfort and agony.  I had visiting nurses coming to my house and they and Stephanie had all they could do to keep me from seriously causing physical harm to myself to alleviate the pain and suffering my mind and body was enduring.

To mollify me, my new primary care doctor set me up with a new psychiatrist who scuttled the existing paradigm of my care in favor of a more humane approach to my detox which included her minion: Valium. It was a slower acting medication than Xanax with a much longer half-life and could be tapered off much more easily over the long run. I was put on a very high dose to offset the high dosage of Xanax I had taken daily for twelve years. My initial dosage of Valium was 25mg three times a day. Yes, a lot of Valium, but considering the higher dosage of Xanax I took daily for twelve years this was deemed sufficient.

Stephanie and I had just been trying to survive the harrowing effects of my detox in the first month and weeks of my releases from the hospital. Any semblance of normalcy was forgone with the withdrawals and aftermath of the prescription detox. We were unable to eat or sleep on any sort of normal time table. I was awake most of the time, crying and screaming in pain so bad I swore my body was breaking.

It was in fact breaking from the full-body withdrawals, and I have the long-term neurological affects to prove it. Lazy eyes, uneven check muscles, a crooked smile, and a mouth that droops are all part and parcel of the aftermath of medical detox done in 16 days from Xanax and Adderall.

I just stopped mourning my physical ailments as I now try to take a selfie picture everyday just for myself to get used to the probably permanent changes in my features. I was such a person who put so much stock into their looks and especially their face; my face fails me now or I fail my face. I try to use these pictures to break the shock and awe value of changes associated with my detox on a daily basis. Yesterday, I took a picture and realized I could edit it to make my eyes bigger and not so lazy, and blur out the lines under my eyes, so the picture not looking like the old me but better than the "real" me was posted on Instagram and Facebook.  I took pleasure in hash tagging captions #remnantsofmedicaldetox and #confidentcorey. All of which was true in the moment but sad when I went back and looked at the pictures just two years ago of me.

To parry my Valium dosage my psychiatrist has already decreased the initial dosage by five milligrams. Not a lot but enough to let me know this too shall change. I so wish I had fought my healthcare provider at the time of my medical detox and not let her get away with this barbaric act of unethical medicinal behavior.

I have been a chattel to prescription drugs for well over twelve years and don't expect much to change in the long run. Stephanie and I are committed to getting me the adequate treatment to get me back on the efficacious drug regime that worked before the punitive opiate self-detox demise. U-Me is celebrating a year from going from platonic to romantic this month and we hope to do it in high style if my health holds its own. Right now all is well, and school looks like it is back into the picture for a new start date of this fall.

Everything happens for a reason, and U-Me has been made so much more fortified by this entire detox ordeal. If we can survive this and come out the other side better and stronger than truly the sky is the limits. I see my new psychiatrist on Saturday so here is to hoping she adds Adderall back into the script, I mean the mix:)

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Slog Fest

The demeanor of my doctor was lugubrious without any good cause. My appointment was to review my withdrawals and I expected her to be  lithe and lissome. She was caustic and unemotive in her examination of me and review of my symptoms which had plagued me since my last visit.

I expected her to be percipient and offer solutions to the malaise I had been dealing with for weeks.

Much to my need for her to profligate me and score humanity points she let me down without any warning. She was anything but perspicacious to the myriad of acute neurological symptoms I was experiencing since my medical detox from prescription drugs in March 2K17.

I had been through hell and back and emasculated myself with guilt and shame at the expense of my usual rather high self-esteem. The debilitating nature of the neurological symptoms of my detox includes lazy eyes, a mouth that doesn't close right, a newly formed crooked smile, and a cheek bone muscle that doesn't fire up like the opposing side.

Those are the neurological effects, the extrapyramidal effects include withdrawals that have been left untreated until three weeks ago, when a valium regime was instituted to deal with the withdrawals which were left unmanaged by the scabrous nature of my body's natural revolt to the lack of Xanax not infiltrating my body anymore.

All this leaves me realizing my healthcare professionals made a huge mistake detoxing me off Adderall and Xanax just because I had a wont to continue using these drugs after my self-induced withdrawal from opiates in January of 2K17.

This has left me with a brusque detox that compromised my well-being and my medical saftety as I suffered stroke level high blood pressure as a result of this whipsaw detox to save professional face for concurrently prescribing Xanax and opiates which was black boxed by the FDA in February 2K16. This was NOT my problem and I can assure you my legal team is hard at work proving the medical detox I weltered was by far the worst medical decision made by a medical professional not educated or qualified to make such a decision to exculpate herself from the near fatal mistake her dissolute decision had cost me in the multitude of maladies I have suffered as a result.

Her decision was just a moment in time but the ramifications of her decisions on my being are here to last a life time if I don't receive the capstone medicinal treatment I have required for the past twelve years and a paragon of 6 board certified psychiatrists. She was just a lowly psych-med nurse which brings opprobrium to all her professional peers.

My story is surely not over, in fact it is just getting started as I slowly begin to receive the remedial treatment I now require to compensate for the negligence of one scurrilous psych-med nurse. My well-being will not be determined by her or anyone else unqualified to handle my complex psychiatric case.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

My Descent From Facebook

Today May 28th, 2K17 I descended to the lowest place I have been since I began my recovery from dependency on prescription drugs.

I have wrote at length on these pages about the pain of withdrawals, the physical torture of life upended as I knew it for the last twelve years. What I left out was the emotional anguish: the embarrassment and shame I felt for my descent into the annals of addiction of one form or another.

I was Corey Britton, a parent, a student, a writer, a once successful business person. I have lived in almost complete and utter isolation from this fall from Grace and the realization that I have a problem with prescription drugs.

I can argue and refute till I am blue in the face that what I suffer from really isn't addiction: it is chemical dependence that my body has developed over the course of the last twelve years. It has mattered greatly that people believe I am not an addict, like the ones we don't want to associate with, the ones we don't trust, the ones we aren't friends with, the weak ones who can't say no to a drug or a pill. Fact is I am an addict, and today it has hit me like a concrete wall I smashed into riding my motorcycle, fullspeed without a helmet and without warning.

This secret of my medical detox from Xanax and Adderall has been shared here amongst friends and fellow addicts suffering just like me, but today I outed myself to a world I have carefully controlled and managed: my Facebook world. Sure, you think wha the fuck is Facebook right? Wrong, big wrong, for that matter. I am and was Corey Britton and I thrived on my Facebook pages with my myriad of friends and acquaintances with whom I shared the highlights and some of the lowlights  over the course of three years. Now you are thinking, friends? Yes, these people were my friends, not just on the pages of Facebook, but on the phone and even sometimes in person.

My friends list was huge, as can be anybody's but I had a faithful and supportive following of people who knew my schooling was important to me, who knew about my daughter Bella, and lots of other antidotal matters that don't seem all that important but really were and are.

Since I went cold turkey off the opiates in January, I have pulled back to just about non-existent on Facebook. I shared I was in the hospital in March on a Cardiac floor, but spared them and myself the shame and humiliation of my TRUTH.

I had started a Facebook group after the elections and it was thriving before everything crashed and burned in January. Then, like the rest of my Facebook presesnce I abandoned all the things and people that mattered to me out of shame and embarrassment. Plenty of others talked about their struggles with addictions, but I was Corey Britton, I had it all together, and addiction was the LAST thing I was willing to contemplate or admit.

To this very moment I am uncomfortable with the idea of addiction in relationship to me; it is a chemical dependence of my body on drugs I took for years. Today I went to church, and as always I am inspired whenever I step foot into that welcoming and loving community of gentle souls. It was there as I was sitting in the back of the church all by myself that I decided today was the day I would tell  my Facebook family my TRUTH about my addiction, however I want to look at it, and tell them I wssn't just missing because of being on a cardiac unit with stroke level blood pressure-which of course was all true as well.

I got really emotional and overwhelmed with guilt, shame, and humiliation as I started to write a shorter version of my story. I cried from a place so deep, so filled with pent up pain for all the suffering physically, emotionally, and psychologically I have endured over the months since January. Besides letting my family in, Stephanie knew and shared part of my journey, I have told nobody besides the sad souls at support groups some od my daily troubles.

Today I realized the deep seeded pain and anguish I have felt and haven't dealt with anyone except a new friend I met on Facebook that turned into a real friend via the phone thus far. He name is Stephanie too and she is amazing, a gift sent from my God who I feel comfortable talking to, and being honest. However, I didn't realize the pent up emotions that I haven't shared with anyone. I am not in therapy yet, and the support groups are not psychologically based or lend themselves to me sharing my deep seeded feelings.

I cried the entire time I wrote my story for Facebook, and my crocadile tears streaming down my face, and my heart opening up and bleeding were somewhat carthatic.

The response to my story on Facebook has been overwhelming and so amazingingly kind and compassionate. People have offered support, words of comfort, and words of encouragent, all while congratulating me on fighting the fight of addiction that I took into my own hands and tossed the opiates and imposed myself into a delirium of withdrawals that lasted for weeks.

I am relieved. Living with a secret especially one with my Facebook community was so hard because I couldn't partake in the Facebook world without coming clean with my story. I learned something new and completely inspiring: people when givern the truth are usually understanding amd willing to help in anyway they can. Facebok is a part of my life for better or worse, but for me it is for the better and today as I sit with my story on my Facebook f\eed, I am relieved and filled with warmth and comforted by the social media friendships that are so important to me at this moment and everyday thereafter.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2K17

Ode To A Playground

It is a few minutes before 1 am in the morning on Saturday morning. A year ago I would be sitting here juiced up on Adderall and coffee blogging away in a drugged induced haze of euphoria that was commonplace every day of the week. I would ride the high of the Adderall for 4-6 hours and then come down with my first dose of Xanax for the day.

Funny thing is I did realize at the time what a great gig I had going on at the time. The number of various pills was staggering and all were medically prescribed and I adhered to the prescriptions accordingly. I would spend the early morning hours tapped out on the mental steroid of Adderall and power my way through the wee hours writing or doing school work so hyper-focused that time just flew by and I hardly realized the time that elapsed during the first six hours of the new day.

I was so happy with my pills: uppers to start the morning and downers to compliment the uppers as they wore off and began to cause me grief with my central nervous system. I was comforted by my bottles of pills with recurring refills without any questions asked and the high dosages of pills was something that my doctors had determined many years earlier.

This medical detox of speedsplatt proportions has been nothing short of a head slam into a concrete wall. My body and mind has been jolted into a realm of unsavory side effects that most medical professionals have decided to ignore for the betterment of pharmaceutical detox at all costs no matter how long or how well I responded to the heavy duty drug regime I was enlisted in by the very white-coated doctors I trusted many years ago when I first embarked on this prescription odyssey.

Sitting here this early morning I miss the Adderall and the speedball affect of chasing it with Xanax hours later. I had the perfect gig going and yes I knew it at the time. I am hopeful to get back on the Adderall when I see the doctor again in a couple of weeks when we review how I am doing on the Valium taper I now am on to augment the medical detox on phenobarbital to get off of Xanax.

I am quite sure as I sit here I will find another doctor to prescribe both Xanax and Adderall again. It is only a matter of time that I find a doctor or I should say I get an appointment with a doctor I know who will give me the scripts I want to continue as a productive member of society.

This medical detox has been the hardest thing I have ever gone through and I am swiftly seeking to put an end to it as soon as possible with insurance and aligning with the right doctors.

I am finally to the point where I am out of bed and motivated to get organized and take care of my responsibilities that have been put on the back burner for months as I laid in my bed writhing in delirious withdrawals and side effects from the abrupt absence of drugs my body was used to ingesting for the past twelve years.

It has been almost exactly two months since I was discharged from the hospital following my phenobarbital taper off of Xanax. I have organized my house, taken care of significant paperwork, cleared out clutter and duplicitous belongings I had collected over the years, and worked with school to gather the requisite paperwork necessary to return to school and classes in the fall.

I have made immense strides in just two months since leaving the hospital. The day and the days immediately following my discharge from the hospital I was better than the days and weeks that followed and the real withdrawals settled into my bones and brain. I was seen by a team of visiting nurses for the first month following my discharge, and those days were some of the worst moments I have lived to talked about. It wasn't until the last three weeks with the help of my family that I got myself motivated, started believing in myself again, and started organizing my home with the help of Stephanie. We thought about moving for a change of scenery but with my daughter, Bella, still in the Dover school district, we opted to stay put.

I romanticize about the days of on-going scripts and refills and the satisfaction I had from taking the Adderall and combination of Xanax. I am struggling this morning with finding my mojo to continue forward in my writing and in the organization I have started around the house this early morning. I am motivated in spirit but my mind and body are slow to follow and toss up road blocks that impede my ability to progress forward with determination and conviction.

What once was a playground of pills and merriment is now gone and the desolate bareness of my medicine cabinet reflects the dullness of my mind and spirit as I try to muster the energy to move ahead with day's responsibilities.

I might go to the store and purchase a coffee in hopes of bringing back some of the adrenaline of yesterdays gone past. I am flat in affect but my eyes are bright and my spirit is trepidatious without the effects of medication to alter my personality and propel me into the next dimension I seek to explore.

Questions of what if I don't find my way back to the medication, or what will become of me without medicinal fortification enter my psyche and cast shadows of doubts on my already fragile mind rocked by the absence of concoctions.

I believe I will head to the store in hopes of buying some relief in energy to push me forward into the dawn of the morning before the sun comes up and all is lost on this night that I wasted in vain wishing for times that no longer exist and yet seem so close to my reality.

I have broken down for the first time and gone to the 24 hour store and purchased five-hour energy cocktails. I have Adderall in the house but I don't dare take it now that I am on the Valium regime and can be subjected to drug screenings and pill counts. Oh how I want the feeling of an Adderall in my brain, making everything perfect and nothing out of the realm of possibility. Only Adderall has this affect and one that I will relish for a lifetime.

During the past two weeks we have contemplated moving abruptly to a new place and leaving this old life behind us. We have embarked in a frenzy of activity and de-cluttering as well as culling out clothes, shoes, books, jackets and lots of needless paperwork which I had held onto for far too long and just needed to trash. Last week alone on trash day, I tossed out over 9 large trash bags of just stuff, taking up room in closets and on shelves and in drawers.

I need to revel in the amazing trajectory of the last two months since my discharge from the hospital. If I can with the help of Stephanie make the strides I have both physically as well as peripherally I must have high hopes for the near future and the months and next few years to come. I single-handedly broke down the myriad of obstacles facing my well-being and methodically alleviated one item at a time starting with my physical well-being.

All this started with a new primary care doctor who referred me to a new psychiatrist who saw me the very next day. I was happy, but shocked that my situation could be so bad that I warranted a next day appointment on a Saturday, nonetheless. After meeting with the new psychiatrist and being understood and my pain validated, I was more than inspired to tackle the other obstacles in my life one line item at a time.

Through all of this upheaval, the best and most important situation has been the blossoming relationship with my daughter, Bella. My illness and hospitalization in early March, then my subsequent slow road to well during the latter part of March into May, has been hard on my relationship with Bella as I did not want her to worry or parentalize me as she needs to be a child without worries about her parent. We have been growing in new and beautiful ways with weekend get togethers and Sunday dinners and working on school projects where my muddied mind has been graciously clear enough to add significant value to her projects which have resulted in near 100 grades. The work was all Bella's but I infused my ideas in the way of concepts and conceptualizations for project development for various subjects. I have felt like a "real" parent for the first time in a long time.

Today I will attend a morning support meeting and then have a business meeting later this afternoon for a new endeavor I just might undertake. It is a surprising opportunity that I would be hard pressed to turn up if everything aligns correctly.

The 5-hour energy supplement kicked in and I took my puglet, Julia Bleu, for a walk and got some more things organized. I am upbeat about the future with this new Valium regime, hopefully it will eventually turn back into Xanax once it is determined that my body is in desperate need of it for maintenance.

Heading to the support club shortly to work on the computer and print out some paper work I am unable to print here at home.

The early morning went quite fast and I am feeling equipped to make the most of the day and push forward with a new adgenda that has me stepping outside my comfort zone for the first time in a long time.

Here is to 5-hour energy supplements which were just what the doctor ordered by way of Corey Britton's desires.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017

 

Thursday Musings-Recovering From Recovery

I am up at in the early morning hours of this Thursday after heading to bed early in despair over the current state of my affairs. I am feeling somewhat better however I am still troubled and plagued by the withdrawals of my medical detox.

I started a protocol of Valium just about a week ago when I saw a new psychiatrist who diagnosed me with excruciating withdrawals which were the residual of a medical detox gone awry after a phenobarbital taper. I was honest in the hospital during the detox that my body was breaking from the detox and my words went unheeded by all the medical professionals in charge of my care. No one would listen to the screaming of my physical body from the abrupt stoppage of Xanax and Adderall after over twelve years of chronic use as prescribed by board certified psychiatrists.

A week into this Valium protocol I am feeling somewhat better but think my dose is still too low and the withdrawals are still rearing their ugly heads as I try to master each day as a somewhat normal person. Gone is the vacant stare in my eyes which had people not looking at me in the eyes and making them uncomfortable to talk to me.

Nothing is worse than knowing you are off and other people recognize it and react to you accordingly in a way that is off putting and stand-offish in a manner that says, "You are crazy and I know it." I lived through these times and these stares and grimaces and I pray I never have to live through them again. My eyes were always dilated and they never blinked-they just stared through people with a wild, far away look that spoke volumes that I was off-center. I was aware of my affect and couldn't change it, try as I might to look normal.

My physical manifestations weren't just in my eyes, they were in my gait, the way I carried my body, and even in the way I spoke. I shuffled when I walked and my arms swung along my sides haphazardly in a flinging motion. My voice which was always pleasant became monotone and flat in its affect with my mouth contorting on one side that was drooping leaving me with a crooked smile that made my eye slant and droop and crunch up whenever I tried to put on a halfway smile.

I was a sad case of medicine gone wrong, but even sadder that I hadn't lost my mind and knew exactly what I looked like to other people and to myself. I was keenly aware of people who wouldn't make eye contact with me and shied away from my usual pleasant face and demeanor.

The physical manifestations lent themselves to me questioning my mind and my right senses. I began to worry that I was losing my mind and slipping into the off-centered person I presented to the world. I cried loudly on the inside, but I couldn't  articulate anymore and had lost the ability to advocate for myself. My self esteem plummeted and I became scared that my physical maladies were becoming my new limited mental capacities.

If it wasn't for this one doctor who diagnosed my withdrawals  for what they were I don't want to think where I was heading to ending up. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy of mind over matter. I saw a  primary care doctor who thought I was okay and that my fallout from detox was normal and acceptable. It wasn't until I started with a new primary care doctor three weeks ago, who saw a glimpse of the real me inside the mayhem of madness of detox that I was escalated the very next day to a new psychiatrist who as you already know diagnosed me properly.

I am so very grateful but remained fearful that I need Xanax or Valium to maintain my homeostasis. I presently am getting acclimated to the new dose of Valium and need to figure out if the dose is enough to quell the withdrawals and bring me as close to normal as possible. Once the appropriate dose of Valium is determined the plan is for me to taper down off the Valium and come off of it  hopefully without any withdrawals.

My fear is that I need Xanax to function properly and as normally as possible. The Valium taper is a scary prospect to me as I just find myself inching back to normality. I look forward to meeting with my psychiatrist again and discussing my fears and apprehensions with her. I know I will look like an addict seeking drugs but my present history reveals much more than an addict's cry for more drugs.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017 

Long Time No Speak

It has been quite awhile since I last posted. Lots has changed in my recovery as I am now taking Valium since my medical detox went awry and I was left in a perpetual state of withdrawals that left me with tremors and twitches in my face.

Everything changed a couple weeks ago when I saw a new psychiatrist who knew before she met me that I wouldn't be okay. She had read my medical history and was sure there was no way I could have detoxed off of Xanax in a fourteen day medical detox.

To say I wasn't right was an understatement of the grandest proportions. I was unable to think in complete sentences, my face was distorted with my eyes being unequal with one slanted downward that twitched every time I tried to smile my newly crooked smile.  Looking at pictures from six months ago, I looked nothing like the picture.

I was unable to speak, write, and communicate in anyway possible. It was the most frightening time in my life.

Two weeks ago on a rainy Saturday, I went to meet with a new psychiatrist after my daughter, Bella, ran a road race. My ex-wife took me to the appointment and as usual I was skeptical.  Upon meeting the new psychiatrist I was floored by her seemingly flat, non emotive demeanor.  We proceeded to her office and she stared at her computer typing and asking me small talk questions. She told me she had read my history and much to my flat out shock she told me she specialized in benzo withdrawals. I knew nothing about her previously and this seemed too good to be true.

She went on to say that after twelve plus years on Xanax there was no way I could come off Xanax in a fourteen day medical detox. She went on to describe a book called Benzo Blues and went on to talk about all this research done in Europe regarding benzos and coming off of them.

Lisa is my psychiatrist's name and she went on to tell me I had two choices: to go to the one hospital in the country that offered an IV treatment of fluoxetine or to go on or a long acting benzo like Valium for the long term and taper off of that over time.  My eyes welled up with tears as I realized this person understood my pain and was willing to help me.

I haven't written about my problems in recovery because they have been so crippling and made me unable to write in any coherent manner that resembled writing that looked like something I would have written.  This nightmare odyssey has been more than I can handle and I felt I was disfigured for life with cognitive deficits that impaired me beyond my wildest nightmares.

For starters, my face was contorted in a twisted fashion with my eyes being uneven and my mouth extending further on one side. My eyes had a vacant, zombie look to them that made it so people didn't want to look at me. Coupled with my shuffling walk and arm that hung down and swung aimlessly I was  an unspeakable sight and I that I was not able to write about. Living with these maladies was torture enough without actualizing them through writing.

The saddest part was I lost the ability to write openly and freely without pause. I couldn't think in full sentences never mind write in full flowing thoughts. It has been weeks or close to a month since I last tried to write or post a blog.

Everyone has kept telling me this would all get better but I knew it was permanent and never thought I would be put on Valium to help augment with the symptoms.  Lisa, my psychiatrist, wants to hear from me in the next few days to see how I am doing and to see if I need to go up on my dose of Valium to completely eradicate the withdrawals. I think I am doing pretty well, although I still have slight withdrawals that might be adjusted with an increased dose in Valium.

This medical detox from Xanax has been nothing short of a science experiment gone wrong with me. The abrupt nature of the medical detox where Xanax was just whipped away cold-turkey and replaced with a phenobarbital taper was jarring and on top of the Xanax withdrawals I experience phenobarbital withdrawals in the short run as well. I have talked to people who said the phenobarbital withdrawals are worse in the short-run than the Xanax withdrawals.

I am relieved today but scared as the Valium is just a taper and not a permanent replacement until I start to make my case....yes I will make my case to go back on Xanax at a later date. My body is too reliant on it and does not function properly off of it clearly.

I have been taking the Valium less than ten days and already there are huge improvements in my physical and cognitive abilities. Stephanie, my fiancée, and my ex-wife have both noticed the difference in me as have the people at the support club where I go for meetings. My blood pressure has come way down, and I needn't take all the anti-hyper intensive medications I was on. I have wanted to write for a few days now, something I had no interest in doing before because the thoughts and the words were not there.

It is frightening when you lose the ability to write and speak when it once came so naturally. I ruminate over my decision to go in-patient for the medical detox as the fallout has been so cumbersome and so extreme in its after affects. I am resigned that the journey back to medication will not be easy or without peril as part of the road I must travel. The medical establishment has cultivated an attitude that benzos are bad and are abused by doctors writing the scripts and patients willingly taking the prescriptions.

I sit here in the early morning, calm and relaxed as well as sharp in my thinking and processing. I haven't taken any Valium this morning but will do so in just a little bit. My dosage is high because of the conversion from Xanax to Valium. I am taking 25mg three times a day as my 10 mg dose of Xanax equated to 100 mg of Valium a day. My insurance would not cover it nor would the pharmacy let me pay for it out of pocket, so I had to go to a community center pharmacy where they  would fill it. Hopefully as time goes on, I will get switched to Xanax and my insurance will pick it up again.

I look forward to writing again and will post again today. I apologize for my long hiatus but the words sadly were not there.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017

Gnawing At My Edges

The stillness of the early morning comforts the restless demons housed in my being. U-Me is as well as can be, given the ever changing landscape of my anorexia. These days I feel my edges being gnawed by the ghosts of addiction still haunting me after two months. Impatient? Yes- I say with a neurotic aura sweeping around my soul.

It would come to be that my two monsters, anorexia and addiction would clasp hands to do a dance of sorts within my psyche. I struggle with a recent weight gain of ten pounds which still leaves me underweight but my pant size has gone up from a zero to a three. Feeling like a jelly fish with rolls of unwanted fat is for me, one of the worst feelings I could experience in this world.

Stephanie is sad beyond reproach, I have begun restricting to immediately lose the extra weight and insure this abomination does not happen again. I wanted to get healthy, I thought putting on ten pounds would not make me feel different. However when new medication met inactivity the result was the feeling of a beached whale on the Fourth of July.

Nothing short of tragic is how I would describe my descent into a living hell I am experiencing with my mind falling prisoner  to the scale and most of all, the naked eye. I am restricting more than I did when I first got sick with my ED. Stephanie is innately worried I will restrict past the scale's vigilance and propel myself into an active episode of anorexia.

I know I am unwell with my crooked thoughts and skewed desires for a thin, skeletal like frame again that so cruelly eludes me in my current state. Stephanie is concerned my restriction will send me into an new phase of anorexia that I will not recover from given the past wreckage I created at the mercy of my disease.

My addictive personality runs rampant as it oozes my blood in the darkness of the sunlight,  shadowed by my obsession. Relapse is too much for me to bear, I am not strong enough or well enough to endure the winds of perseverance required to maintain a heathy perspective.

Today I am sensing the prevalence of disease permeating my life like beads of water on my nervous chin. I promised Stephanie we would go grocery shopping today thinking if I control the shopping, I can control my weight even further. Actively participating in my food preparation is a new found desire I display in the imprisonment of my psyche.

Addiction and anorexia are one in the same, not needing a separation of distinction by name. I feed off both and have only a slight preference for the addiction which bequeaths me the bounty of pills and the ecstasy of escape only better than the high of anorexia. Either way I wallow in the obsession of self preoccupation that only an anorexic junkie could ever grasp.

When I wander to the mirror to reconcile my feelings, a sense of dread twinned with panic envelops me as my eyes adjust and do lie like the words of others. Body dysmorphia lends its lying hands to the collage of mental health illness peppered in my diagnosis.

I cry for Stephanie as her fears are cruelly my hoped reality. I have not eaten since 4 pm yesterday and my mouth is parched for nutrients of any sort. I punish my body for being gluttonous with food. I can no longer trust my body's wants to fulfill my nutritional requirements. I surely do not warrant this additional ten pounds that catapulted me out of my acceptable size ones to the obese size three now snug on my hips.

I am awake with mania, the first sign of anorexia for me. I realize this is not the same for most people but it has precipitated all my bouts of anorexia.

I long for gaunt and hollow to return to my face and for "slight" to bed my frame again like long separated mittens on a winter's day.  Stephanie is my fiancé and bestfriend,  I  want to cause her pain by wearing  my truth cruelly leaving  her to weep. How could I want something so bad for her to experience? I desire at all costs the comforting sight of jutting hips and boney fingers a fragility only another anorexic understands.

This morning I will share with my bare truths written within this post. She will not be surprised as our realities are antithetical emotions on a traffic light leading to nowhere. My journey is without a destination, I just want to be travelling on the road of my scale and the assurance of my eyes.

Corey

BORTH THIS WAY-2017

U-Me Thursday Morning-Recovery Cracks

It is early Thursday morning and I am getting  through this week with a lot more normal in my life. For the first time since before I was hospitalized in early March U-Me is returning to our own sense of normal.

This week has been marked with nightly dinners followed by movie nights and later bed times. Stephanie is much happier as I come into my own space of recovery. I have tried really hard to make a concerted effort.

I have been trying to get back to the me I used to know prior to all the withdrawals. The space I occupied then was marked by mood-altering chemicals. Suffice it say that Corey doesn't exist without the drugs. It is both good and bad. I am much more suspect to anxiety and all its ills. However I am not trying to mask my reality or alter my sense of being.

I miss both the Xanax and the Adderall as well. They were different drugs for me as each held its own term of endearment in my daily life. The start of the day was shrouded in Adderall and the rest of the day was cloaked in Xanax. No matter how you look at it I was dripping in the fumes of pharmaceuticals. I was calm when I wasn't on Adderall but my calm was a dazed and confused sort of twisted calm. My calm was marked by fits of rebound anxiety which required I take another Xanax to quell that storm. It was a vicious cycle and one that five 2 mg Xanax could barely keep up with. My Adderall was to quell the natural high I maintain when not crunching Xanax 

Living  without these two contrasting drugs is a new mental health picture for me to display. I must now live with my two-sided mirror of my personality. Acknowledging my organic manic high is hard in its own right. Sometimes I fly on top of the ceiling with my moods. I wake up every day with this predisposition. Waking up on the hyper-alert side of life is beneficial to my schoolwork and my overall efficiency as a human being. I am capable as I am now of long stretches of concentration and work output. My crash is not low or sad it is anxiety. The anxiety is partly brought on by the mania. My body can not sustain the mania and as a result my systems get taxed and rebel in the form of anxiety and panic. This is the my first attempt to explain my full circuit of mental states I visit in the course of the day. My extremely early rising is a result of the mania I organically produce. My hard afternoons are a result of insidious anxiety which riddles me at my soul and suffocates my breath.

In this early morning I recall last night and a conversation I had with Stephanie. We were having dinner and got talking about the lack of pills in my life. It wasn't the easiest part of the day for me so I was susceptible to the romantic winds of yesterday's Xanax. I spoke out loud as I recalled many a dinner accompanied by a bottle of champagne. On top of the Xanax we were likely to share a bottle of Perrier Jouet with whatever dinner consisted of that night. Food as always was a distant second as I imbibed on the alcohol and felt the fusion of Xanax and champagne. The softening of my anxious edges was ebbed into smooth curves of intoxication. Usually the night followed with a movie or watching a series of some sort. I always awakened without a clear knowledge of what had happened in the later part of the evening. Stephanie mentioned last night how much more present I am at dinner. We talked about how preoccupied I used to be with the end of my pills for the day. I usually wanted to go to sleep when my Xanax were done for the day. However until now I have never admitted it. Lots of truths spoken now for the first time. I am unedited like nothing I have ever experienced before.

I reflect of the number of pills I had in one month at my disposal: one hundred and fifty 2mg Xanax and 90 30mg tablets of Adderall. Enough ingredients for my own pharmaceutical version of a eight ball. You know, the cocaine type. Seriously some lethal combination of push-pull going on in my system at any given time. I would be remiss to say I don't miss it at this vulnerable hour. Heck, every hour is vulnerable in this brave new world I am not sure I want to explore. No other choices at the present and with my recovery. It would be too great a mind fuck to go back to the pharmaceutical path I journeyed for twelve years. Why would I ever think of giving up this constant state of high alert and anxiety that flows through my veins like blood? Yes THOSE days are history now and looking back is a bad idea sort of like getting pregnant in high school. I can't dwell in the past for it is not my current state of affairs and not one I would or could change at this time. See I am too far in recovery to entertain the use of chemicals but not far enough in to not let myself really fuck my head up.

Dark waters without a solid grounding is my current reality. It hurts. Some days the pain sends me to bed for hours. I chase sleep to make myself go away. What is different now then on Xanax? Not much seriously. I work to escape either way I live. However, now I am rewarded in an odd sort of way for doing the right thing and getting clean. Because drugs are bad right? I wonder this question every moment I am awake. I suffer and hurt these days like never before. I feel more- I am alive- but is this all worth it? The answers I seek are not in now but in years of recovery.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017

New Dawn-A Fellow Addict's Words

I went to a new addiction center yesterday called SOS Recovery Organization. I attended their first inaugural  meeting at 2 pm. I got to the center around 1 pm. A guy that I had met at the other center I attend came and sat down with me. We talked for the entire hour before for the meeting.

Mike  is an older guy and as a result his words and depth run deeper than most addicts. I  met Mike when I was fresh out  of the hospital and struggling not to whirl right  out of my seat. I was completely electrical and beside myself. At that particular meeting in mid-March I recalled Mike sat down next to me and kept his head down and his hands clasped.

He started by saying that at that meeting he felt so bad for me he prayed the entire meeting for me. I told him I used prescription drugs and had gone in the hospital for a detox. I shared with him that I gotten worse when I came out of the hospital and was only now starting to see improvement. Mike mentioned that he too went into the hospital for a 17 year addiction to prescription opiates as well as heroin. He shared that it took until day 51 until he began to feel human again.

I was surprised we shared such similar stories although his history was much longer and extensive  than mine. What Mike did was give me, this suffering addict,  HOPE.

I wanted to cry tears of gratitude for sure however, none would come.  We went to the  2 pm meeting and the discussion topic was gratitude. Mike said he was grateful to help another suffering addict out as it was important for him to give away what he had. I knew that is how recovery works but I had yet to expeience it in this particular way.

I went home and waited for Stephanie to get out of work. I texted her that I had met someone really special . The kindred feelings that were evident between us two addicts was nothing short of a miracle. Neither of us had  to go through detox and get clean however, we choose the road less travelled. We were both here to talk about it and in talking and sharing we both discovered the true magic and wonderment of recovery.

I was left propelled to start showing up and be  there for my loved ones and family. I am indeed getting better and I have the knowledge now that another addict went through the living hell I am experiencing and that it does get better.

I prepared dinner for U-Me last night and surprised her when she got home. One of the messages I heard at my meeting on Sunday at noon was to get out of my comfort zone.  My fellow meeting makers challenged me on Sunday to go to the Recovery event  and dare to be uncomfortable. U-Me did just that and we were both so happy that we went. We partook in a raffle and yesterday at the new recovery center I learned we had actually won.

Last night I prepared a wonderful dinner that U-Me shared. Unlike every other weekday night since I have gotten out of the hospital we watched a movie on Netflix and stayed up like it was a Friday night. Stephanie was really happy and psyched to see me cooking and the color come back to my face.

Tonight I am going to a new recovery meeting at 5:30pm something I would never do since getting out of the hospital. I am looking forward to a productive  day after my weekday morning meeting. I have set aside some household chores I want to tackle over the next few days and the weather is lousy so all is well.

I look forward to extending my discomfort  zone and daring to step right in the middle of it.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017

Speedsplatt

My body and mind are travelling to places I do not know. I speed through time with many new sensations which affect  me both on a cerebral and anatomic plane. U-Me is adjusting as I experience trials and tribulations.

Today is the day after a rough episode which affected not only me but Stephanie as well. I know I am unstable with the homeostasis of my ever-changing body. Recovery in its second month is more dynamic than ever. We are trying really hard to establish a new normal. However, the landscape is always morphing into destinations we have yet to visit.

Recovery remains an unpredictable amoeba without constant shape or form. I experience new highs for a day or two and then slip into reverse for the next few days.

I an cautious with each new tribulation as it is always followed with a trial of new lows. Serenity and peace truly elude me. I seek what other people have and live silently in their shadows. I am less sure of myself than ever. I am not worried about a drug relapse as I only can get them through a doctor. My dealer comes in a sterile white coat. Turning to the streets is not my MO. The sanctity of absence is my one form of calm. I know not what it feels like to not yearn or desire that which I can not seek.

My life with Stephanie is in line for a lot of my change. I want to believe  I am alone in the fate of U-Me but Stephanie will not allow me to shoulder this false truth. U-Me is even more enduring than myself. Stephanie remains the light in my dim hour of reckoning.  I stand in awe at the brilliance of her love and compassion. The candle of our love burns ever so brightly because of her resilient flame.

In the gray of this day I seek shelter from the unforgiving sun. I sit in our house with a pallor that only a person in new-found recovery knows. We went to the grocery store this morning before Stephanie went to work. I am determined to participate in the future forward makings of U-Me.

I am at a noontime recovery meeting. It is my second of the day. I will attend a 2:00 pm meeting at the Sisters of Sobriety Center. It just opened and is located right near our house. U-Me will be getting involved with this recovery group. I will be talking to the staff regarding volunteering at SOS.

My plan is to lengthen my day so that U-ME might have a longer day. Making dinner is my plan followed by an evening of Netflix.  Nothing crazy at all but it is a start.   I seek progress before perfection.

I am hopeful that anxiety hasn't seeped into my soul. A night free of panic would be as gift to U-Me.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017

U-Me Monday Morning

My fiancé, Stephanie, is truly a once in a lifetime person. This past weekend I had to attend an English tea with my daughter and ex-wife. Between that and my morning support meeting I was gone most of the day. When I got home on Saturday I was immediately stricken with anxiety and panic. It was a long Saturday night for both of us.

I woke up around 3am on Sunday. I was riddled with guilt and remorse for my needs which took up all of U-Me on Saturday. Stephanie was so gracious and did nothing but be supportive and understanding. I was once told by a therapist that in a relationship each person needs to be both the gardner and the flower.With Stephanie, she has always been the gardner with me.

My ongoing battles with anorexia started when we were just friends. She was the only one who I let come visit me when I was in the eating disorders hospital and had a feeding tube. We have basically been inseparable since then expect for my blatant dating which culminated with my worst experience ever. I dated a person who is an active junkie and I did not know it. She began her death spiral when I was dating her and did some unspeakable things. Stephanie as my friend intervened and at that time she made her romantic feelings known for me.

I never thought she could like me and I was caught way off guard with her love for me. Since we crossed the line from platonic to romantic she has shown me unbridled love and affection. However, the most amazing part is she still is my best friend. Through the changes in us she has given me the greatest gift of unconditional love.

U-Me began last June and we have only grown closer and more fond of one another. Our chemistry is off the charts and we both believe there is not another person for either one of us.

Stephanie has supported me through my anorexia as well as pharmaceutical detox. None of it has been easy on either one of us. Her unconditional love is like none other. She shows me everyday how important I and U-Me are to her. My challenge right now is to give her the same unrequited love she bestows on me. With just three weeks before I possibly return to school my object is to focus on her and our relationship. U-Me is finding our new normal as I continue to battle anorexia and slowly recover from detox.

It is remarkable that after all U-Me has gone through, Stephanie is standing brave in my trenches. I needn't not ever worry of her steadfast devotion. It is my time to do for her and be her gardener. I look forward to the change and hopefully new reciprocity for U-Me.

Today I Wwill start by having an early breakfast with Stephanie before I had to the support club at 6 am to set up and make the coffee for my 7:30 am recovery support group meeting. Today is about U-Me and I will head out later in the morning to pick up groceries for dinner to night. One if the most special attributes of U-Me is how we find the sacred in the ordinary daily. Dinners which are a hard time for me are always special and made with love. This is the first week I will be cooking for Stephnaie. I haven't told her yet and hopefully will surprise tonight. My contributes to the cooking and the household have been scant at best until yesterday. I will take each day as it comes and know anything I do will be appreciated for sure. It is one of Stephanie's brightest traits, and one I don't want to take for granted.

Overcoming anorexia is what she wants from me most so I am scheduling an appointment with my ED therapist today. Self-care is the one thing I need to do for both myself and U-Me. Getting well in recovery is something I will always be working on and sharing with Stephanie. We attended a Recovery Rocks event yesterday and both of us loved the supporting SOS organization.  I plan to go to the SOS center today so that I can inquire about various programs and offer to volunteer. It is something U-Me wants to get involved with in the near future.

Looking forward to breakfast with my fancyface........

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017

Monday-Crooked Thoughts

It is Monday morning, U-Me attended our first Recovery Rocks event yesterday. It was a  great opportunity to get involved in the recovery community.

A speaker mentioned finding God and I thought to myself these days I might not know how to find God but I know he knows how  to find me,.....

It was a gorgeous April day. Finally I believe, it is safe to say we won't be getting anymore snow.

I learned and met people today affiliated with SOS recovery. The community is crazy friendly and filed with lots of programs at their center located right down the street from here. Stephanie really liked the community today and wants me to get involved with  SOS. She is excited for us to participate in the organization.

This morning I am keeping the anxiety demons at bay.. Last night was very hard and causes me to fear today, particularly this afternoon. Panic is terrifying and when you mix in throat issues it is like a dream gone bad.

I thought yesterday about my plan to return to school. I am not quite sure I will be able to pull it off.  My memory is slow to recall and I easily forget.  Not the makings of a scholar for sure. I have this fucked up deadline in my head which gnaws at my psyche every minute of the day. My sense of accomplishment is directly tied to my return to school.  I was only going to take two seminars however I might just take one programming class. I know I could do that and I would put off a full return to school until the Fall.  I only have three weeks to decide so I will think on it and make the requite adjustments to my schedule.

Seriously my recovery is nothing short of amazing. Thinking back to six weeks ago when I got discharged from the hospital, I was a train wreck of huge proportions I recall a twirl of demonic experiences all centered in my acute Xanax withdrawals.  I remember my psychiatrist explaining to me to me that my detox was like getting hit in the head with a baseball bat and my recovery was like recovering from a brain injury. I didn't understand what he meant but soon I was deep in Xanax withdrawals and longed to go back on Xanax and fuck this recovery bullshit. As I neared ten days into my recovery I reached the apex of physical and emotional side effects. The tremors and the electricity coupled with the constant waves of anxiety and panic made me seriously think I was OFF and not well enough to make it out of the hospital setting. I feared the absolute worst: I was going  to be committed. My veins were constantly ice cold and my paranoia had me doubting my family's intentions. I will not say ever but my gut tells me I could not experience much worse.

Six weeks later I sit at my computer in breathless awe. I didn't think I was capable of such healing. My instincts tell me this is of Divine doing. You needn't  believe to aknowledge my amazing comeback from toss of insanity. I worried in paranoia that everyone my life was  colluding to admit me involuntarily. Nothing has frightened me more ever. The inate fear which seeped into my soul was crazy and just about unexplainable. Suffice it say,I am a firm believer in the healing properties of the human body. I used to doubt my bodily capabilities but not anymore.

I look forward with hope to each new day. Even this new bout of anxiety and panic does nothing to dim my shine. I accept this is my circus and my monkeys. I embrace my little monsters of crazy mixed with high intelligience. My mind might not be fast right now but I truly believe it will completely heal with time.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017

Sunday Morning Musings-Panic and Anxiety Return

With each day of recovery comes new surprises. Some are positive and well some I would rather not experience.

Yesterday I spent the day with my  daughter and ex-wife. We went to our annual English Tea hosted by our church.

I had an unusually good day yesterday but come 4 pm when the tea was over, I began to feel really sick. I had a hard time swallowing and I couldn't catch my breath. I have experienced these issues earlier in my recovery but hadn't experienced them in over three weeks. I thought they were behind me but yet obviously they came back to haunt me. I think it was a neurological problem as I experienced panic as a result of not being able to swallow.

Stephanie was nervous and mostly scared as she watched me in distress. This episode lasted until I fell asleep  When I fell asleep I slept  like a rock until I got up for the day at 3:30 am. Whenever I experience recovery in it's ugly manifestations my mind is quick to forget and I awaken with little overt residual trauma. It is almost like my brain will not hold on to such debilitating thoughts and experiences.

However, when I experience an episode like late yesterday afternoon my mind does recall the fear and anxiety associated with earlier experiences and it is then, that there is no amount of Xanax  ould ever help me get through to the other side. My throat is a susceptible area of my body which is usually affected first by distress or fatigue. I have forgotten the horrific experiences I once ago had with my esophagus. Before I went on Xanax over twelve years ago, I ended up in multiple ER's with what I felt was closing and tightening of my throat. It looked like to physicians that my throat was open and fine. It took me going to a world-class psychopharmacologist to get the right diagnosis of tardive dyskinesia of the mid-esophagus. It was a very rare diagnosis explained to me as needing a smooth muscle-relaxant like Valium for the rest of my life to treat the side-effects. Well when I came off of the Xanax I came off of Valium too. It has been since March 6th that I went cold turkey off of Xanax and Valium as well as Adderall.

Last night I worked myself into such a state of panic that I felt unable to get a deep breath along with the sensation that I couldn't speak very well because of the inability to move the muscles in my throat and neck. As I write this I see how crazy this appears but it is very real and lasts for hours when it comes over me. Right now twelve hours removed from the onset I feel cerebral and logical discussing my account. However, when I am in the midst of an attack, I lose all sense of intellect and my eyes dilate with panic as I brace myself for the horrific episode.

Yesterday as I mentioned was a great day but I do recall having a lot of dread and unfounded fear crop up every so often as I was peppered with intermittently with fear starting around noon time.

I attended the 8:30 am support group meeting and then  wore myself out as Stephanie and I cleaned and readied ourselves to shampoo the carpets in the house. It is a stress trigger as I ruminate over the the length since the carpets were last cleaned and needless worry invades my head over the fear of not getting the carpets clean. I read this and I feel like I need to run not walk to the psychiatrist and beg to be treated for panic disorder and anxiety. It is exactly what landed me on Xanax twelve years ago at ten milligrams day. It is the highest dosage allowed by the FDA and I worry ironically that I have organic panic which is so crippling it requires Xanax in a dosage of epic proportions.

I want and need to be clean and free of such  mini mental mind fuckers but my deepest seeded fear is that my truth is not compliant with my desires to be clean. I am quickly drawn to my knees with such  fears. God only knows if deep breathing and mediation worked I would have been cured of such ills long ago. Physicians who have treated me and evaluated my panic and anxiety have told me my symptoms are like something they have never experienced in a patient before.

In the hospital my psychiatrist who I saw for  the last two days of my detox told me point blank that many psychiatrists would want to give me Xanax and that it was my job to avoid such prescribing  as it was so wrong and equally debilitating. It is ironic that the doctors who treated me in detox were so matter of fact about not taking Xanax again but they had never treated my naked panic and anxiety. It is easy to sit back in an   armchair and play the psychiatric quarterback regarding the non emotive treatment of my three-dimensional panic. None of the psychiatrists treating me in detox ever saw me in the midst of panic or anxiety. I am angry this morning that perhaps this was a very bad idea and that my panic is worse than any long-term effects of chronic Xanax medication use.

Most of all of course, I am scared and on the verge of being petrified.  Now I have the history of voluntary detox and psychiatrists will be all the more less likely to prescribe medication that my mental illness may require. What does that mean? Bottom line is it means I will suffer dearly before a psychiatrist breaks down  and prescribes what my condition may require. In detox, I was riddled with the onset of panic and anxiety. I asked for something efficacious to treat my anxiety and I was told without mincing words that nothing would compare to Xanax. I feared such words when they were spoken to me weeks ago, and I fear that mindset and lack of sensitivity for my panic and anxiety even more today. I am so far away from a doctor who would truthfully tell me that my situation unfortunately requires the use of anti-anxiety medication. It seems like a true cost benefit analysis is logically being forgotten in the narrow-minded and blind medicine which deems all use of Xanax unacceptable no matter how disabling my anxiety and panic truly is for me.

I, more than anyone, want to stay free from Xanax and all related drugs but I needn't suffer from much panic to understand and want my panic to be treated first and foremost -regardless of the medicinal price. It doesn't matter what the long-term effects of such medication are if the panic and anxiety is going to stress me out and cause high blood pressure and a heart attack first. I seriously am going to consider seeking treatment in Boston where specialists have a wider purview of the reality in which I live. Xanax is pretty benign compared to the stroke level high blood pressure I now live with which requires four anti-hyper intensives to treat it. Seriously the drug-induced liver damage caused by these four medications is worse than any long term side-effects from chronic Xanax use.

My mind is so malleable to the anxiety and fear that I AM and blinded by my demise for self-preservation.

I am \wired for anxiety and I feel electrical with energy. I pray today I am better able to manage my stress and bag of panic. \It is a brave new world without \Xanax and I  still want it on some level. Now the hard work begins. I must devlelop a toolvbox of coping skills.

Corey

BORN THIS WAY-2017