Before Recovery: Part 7 – Dark Descent
This is the story of my terribly traumatic childhood, the teenage years of self-discovery and chaos, the onset of alcohol abuse in college, my life as a soldier, the years of drug use, the disintegration of my family, and the dark descent that landed me in jail. I wrote this portion of my story as part of a recovery exercise while I was in treatment. What it lacks in detail, it makes up for in the sheer volume of chaos that alcohol wreaked upon my life.
|Part 1: Trauma Legacy||Part 2: Wandering Lost||Part 3: Worlds Colliding|
|Part 4: Heavy Burdens||Part 5: Constant Chaos||Part 6: Balancing Act|
It was early in 2010 that I would be diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, Anxiety, PTSD, and Major Depressive Disorder. Disillusioned with my relationship gone badly with ______, I finally sought professional help as I was nearing the precipice of another major breakdown.
I credit that Doctor with saving my life as I was put on medication that had a remarkable effect on me for nearly 3 years. But, alas, my insurance ran out while I was in another 2 year relationship and my alcoholism returned with a vengeance at the end of 2011.
I started drinking 100 proof nips along with beer, something I had never done before, with terrible consequences. In the early part of 2012 I totaled 3 vehicles, nearly killed myself smoking crack, destroyed a pretty decent relationship and lost several jobs to the point I stopped looking for them.
Staring into the abyss at the end of 2012, I met the woman who would become my rock bottom. Although I did enter sobriety with my last girlfriend in January of 2013, it was short lived. A mere 4 months later, I learned that my step father told nobody just how sick my mother was, and she passed away in May of he had her cremated and then left the state.
It crushed me and my girlfriend and I picked up. Little did I know that she was ten times the raging alcohol that I ever was. That is not vindictive or resentful talk. That is just a plain fact. Suffice it to say that two alcoholics ignoring pain and inflicting suffering upon one another was a recipe for my eventual “true” suicide attempt in late 2014.
I say true because, to me, the previous attempts were cries for help. On the occasion of 2014 I took every one of my prescription pills so as to induce a massive overdose. My girlfriend actually encouraged it. The next day I woke up as if nothing happened. You would think I would have taken this as a sign that perhaps God had a different plan for me.
Instead, over the next 2 years, alcoholism would press its heavy boot on my neck. The girlfriend turned out to nearly be a psychopath, as she would berate me and physically and mentally torment me. On some nights it was everything I could do to keep her off of me. She would go into fits of rage over the smallest thing: I didn’t respond to a Facebook post, she saw me closing a car deal with an attractive woman, I got out of work too late.
It was endless misery. She threatened me with the police nearly every night. I suffered multiple scars, at least three knife attacks, destruction of nearly everything I owned. In February of 2016, I was the one who called the police on her heroin-addicted son, who was shooting up in the bathroom. When the police arrived, my drunk girlfriend told the police I had abused her the night before and they to me to jail.
Insanely, I returned to her home the next day. As was the usual case, she acted as everything was ‘normal.’ Now I had yet another pending domestic abuse case coming up in June. Nightly she threatened me with calling the police that would essentially violate my probation. She reigned her physical and mental venom wantonly, until finally, in April of 2016 I could take no more.
I broke out a knife and started poking myself all over, threatening to kill myself. She had called one of my car buddies, who took me to the Brockton Hospital, where I stayed for 3 days. They transferred me to the VA, where they were going to commit me. However, I convinced the psychiatrist I was not a harm to myself, and he let me go.
I immediately went home, called my friend to come help me, and I essentially escaped that woman while she worked. Well, that caused quite the shit-storm over the next month or so. She stalked me at the dealership, demanding money and for me to come home. I was hiding out in a motel, still drinking my sorrows away, but free of her.
That was until one day, when reporting to Probation–which at this point was just a routine check-in–to discover that the ex had filed a bogus 209a Restraining Order, stating that I had been stalking her and threatening her. This triggered a ‘violation’ of my probation. So, on May 12th 2016, I went to jail. Where I would only end up staying for just over 5 months. Sobriety never felt so good, never felt so bad…to be continued.