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I was active on these boards back in 2012-2013 and they were very helpful and supportive. My life crashed when I took a new job and moved from my beloved Idaho to Portland, OR, leaving behind friends, a boyfriend, my cats, half of my downsized household furnishings, and my lifeline to my prescribing Dr for Naltrexone. Within a few months, due to a perceived catastrophic financial debt (unfiled tax returns/back taxes), I fell into a deep deep depression. I still made it into my new job and was doing well by all external accounts, but I was isolating and drinking the rest of the time to try and escape the overwhelming grief and anxiety I was consumed with. My Rx for N quickly ran out, and the Psychistrist I went to see wanted to delve into my childhood rather than help me with the immediate challenges I was going through. Also was very judgemental and visibly shocked over my tax troubles. Not helpful or empathetic at all.
Soon I was back to two bottles of wine a day. Waking up at 2am and unable to get back to sleep so very sleep-deprived as well.
A few months later I began binge drinking and didn't go into work for several days. I didn't take any phone calls and one of my sisters called the police to do a well fair check. I managed to convince them that I was just sick and they went on their way. Two days later, I had gone through all the alcohol I had in the house and climbed into bathtub with a very sharp Shun knife and a boxcutter. I had researched the best ways to cut yourself to be successful with a suicide attempt and made multiple cuts across my wrists on both sides, several gashes up my left arm to my elbow, and more cuts across my inner elbow. Oh and also cuts on my neck. I kept emptying the bathtub and filling it up again, I'm not sure why, maybe to keep warm. I wasnt sure if I was going to die or not, and I remember being despondent when I realized that maybe my efforts weren't enough, and I might live. At one point I became so thirsty, so I stumbled into the kitchen, very weak, fell onto the kitchen trash can, managed to get up and slosh some water into my mouth. I hadn't wanted to be found naked, so I had on silk pajamas, which were, of course, blood- and water-drenched. Shock was kicking in and suddenly I was freezing and shivering. I climbed into bed and I don't know how long I was there.Then I heard a knock, which I ignored but they kept knocking and yelling so I dragged myself out of bed and answered the door. It was my brother-in law's sister and mother, who lived in Portland and had been called to check on me. I can't imagine how horrific it must have been to see me and my blood-smeared apartment.
The rest happened fast. The paramedics cut my clothes off to make sure I hadn't cut myself anywhere else and they took me to the emergency room where I went into surgery. I had 50+ stiches. I was in the hospital on 24 hour suicide watch for several days. My sister flew up from Sacramento and stayed with me.
In fact, unbeknownst to me, she stared making arrangements to take care of my affairs so I could be moved back to Sacramento after my hospital stay. She contacted my work and let them know I would not be returning. She worked with the tax person I had hired to finish up my returns. She got me out of my apt lease. Then other family members came up and packed my apartment up and put it in a uhaul. One drove that down to Sac and one drove my Jeep. They put my stuff
in storage except for what I might need during my recuperation.
After 4-5 days in the hospital, I was transferred to a psych hospital for 10 days. It was actually pretty nice compared to some psych units I would experience later.
Long story not much shorter, I moved in with my parents, then started an out patient treatment program for depression. it was a lot of boring group therapy sessions that I didn't really engage in. By now my psych meds had been re-prescribed several time and I was in a state of total depression ans anxiety. Over the next couple of years, my life was going to therapy groups 3-4 days a week and the rest living in a bedroom above my parent's garage. My father passed away Christmas Eve the first year I was there, so it was just me and my mom. She became gravely ill a few months later, and was down to 79 lbs at one point but pulled through. So the better part of the next couple of years, I took on the role of caretaker, not a role I adapted to well, but I did what was necessary to the best of my abilities.
It was wearing. I would eventually realize and was able to admit to myself that although I love my Mother, I did not like her, and, in fact, I found her presence to be stultifying.
Full disclosure, but without going into all the gory details, I had two more suicide attempts, two more emergency room visits then psych ward stays, and the last one, the conditions were like one flew over the cickoo's nest.
I don't remember when I started sneaking wine into the house. I was so depressed with my living situation and despondent that my life woul ever be different and I craved the escape. This did jot go over well when I was caught.
Eventually there was some tension with my sister who felt I was taking advantage of my mother because my Dad, when he was alive, felt it was important to give me a small stipend so I could take care of personal expenses. I should say that although my mother is not rich, she got a very healthy insurance benefit from my father's passing, plus his retirement benefits, the house is paid off and she doesn't have any other expenses so this was not a hardship by any means. Plus, had my family had to shell out for even part time home nursing or other assistance when my mom was basically an invalid, it would have cost 4-5 times the small stipend they were paying me.
I had been seeing a psychiatrist and therapist this whole time. Finally we hit on the right Rx cocktail and my mood improved and I started feeling almost normal. I also began to consider reentering the work force because that was the only way I could live on my own again. Plus it was infuriating that my contributions to my mother's care were not appreciated.
Last October I was offered a job by a great company doing what I love. It was a long commute but worth it. It was great to be back to being productive and away from my mother. I hated going home after work, but I needed to save some money before I could move out.
In December I got a DUI. It was the first time in years that I had gone out with friends and I definitely overdid it. my BAC was .14-.15. So I quit drinking for a while but eventually started again.
In February I moved into my own place, near my new job (YAY!), and about 30 minutes from my mother and sister. I am actually happy for the first time in years. Back to my Nal story. I did start drinking once I was on my own, up to two bottles of wine a day. With my new insurance through work, I got into the UCD system, which is excellent. I didn't tell my psychiatrist that I was drinking, but she prescribed Naltrexone to help with the cravings. I was so grateful, and I have been back on the Sinclair method ever since. I am happy to report that over about a 3-month timeframe, my wine consumption is down to 2-3 glasses per day vs. 1-2 bottles, so that's quite an improvement.
I'm so glad to be back and I look forward to looking around and reading what everyone's up to.
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