TW:/ Talk to Suicide, drugs, alcohol, and abuse.
I was 15 when I had my first overdose. That day I almost died more than once, literally not figuratively. It was not my first brush with death, nor was it my last, but that day still haunts me in a way that no other experience in my life ever has. I have been wanting to write this blog post for over 3 months, but every time I thought about going back to that day, I felt sick to my stomach and would feel a flush feeling of sweat rush over me. That day was the end of so many things for me, but it was also the beginning of a 20-year addiction in which I overdosed 3 times before the age of 18 and somehow still went going for another 17 years after that. I tried so hard to die in this lifetime, yet somehow here I remain. At times I can’t help but think of all the people who make up the most important parts of my life and how much I would have missed out on had I succeeded in dying. My siblings, my husband, my cats, friends who are family, my cousins, where would they be? Would they be the same? The worst part of this is that no one even knew I was suffering, suicidal, and struggling, and if you would have asked me then, I would have said I was fine. I want to warn all family members reading this, I am going to be very honest in this blog. Whether you have stumbled upon this because you are subscribed, or someone sent this to you, my lived experience is mine to tell, and if it offends your version of events, or you are not ready to hear this I understand, I am however not going to senser any part of this so consider yourself warned as things get dark. No part of my life is up for debate simply because it triggers your version. I read so many memoires where people centre the feelings of others in an effort to not offend anyone, I am not that person. No part of me wants to spend another second of my life catering my story to someone else’s emotions.
My parents’ divorce was like a tidal wave that ripped through our lives leaving no survivors in its path. If you are family, you most definitely tried to help and realized early on that was not necessarily possible. We were kept away and isolated from anyone who could have helped as both of my parents were/are somewhat allergic to vulnerability and any offer in aid first had to be met with an omission that we were even struggling, and dear god let’s not let anyone know we are not capable of handling things on our own or accept any help without then throwing blame at everyone who was perceived to put us in this situation. At a certain point you end up having to walk away as you were most likely tired of being dumped on and told you never do enough, and I really don’t blame you. The truth is though we were living in poverty, in the basement of a mentally unwell landlord whose multiple suicide attempts almost took the lives of my siblings (I wasn’t home at the time), and truth be told we were all barely hanging on. I wish I could blame it on the divorce, but it started way before that. In fact, the divorce was just the last straw. I sincerely don’t ever remember my parents hugging or kissing, only fighting. I am a first-generation Canadian family though; my dad came over on a boat and with English as his second language and having to drop out of school to help the family, we were raised very much on immigrant mentality. Don’t complain, work harder, you make your own luck, hope is for the weak, and you don’t air out your dirty laundry, or in the words of my baba “the walls have ears.” I’ll never forget the time I went to see a medium/ healing facilitator to be told my ancestors wished I would keep hereditary bloodline issues of severe mental illness to myself and “STOP SHARING.” People who transition into spirits don’t suddenly become evolved just because they are on the other side, this is one hundred percent false. Some still very much struggle with the same issues they did when they were here. I laughed out loud while she said I am having trouble getting messages out because I am being told to “shush” – YUP that sounds about right! To this day although I do consider myself very forthright with my story, I choke on my words while trying to share. I consider it a huge success that I sit here at almost 40 years old speaking on my experience. I do not do so to hurt my parents as if you knew their stories you would applaud them on how far they’ve come in this life, but I do think it’s important I am honest, for myself, but also for others who stay silent and suffer in illness in fear they will offend someone. This is my story, and it is mine to share. It doesn’t make me love my parents any less, or not want to claim my last name! I am proud of who I am, where I came from, and all my parents have sacrificed to try to be better than their parents and their parents.
I was 15 when I had my first sip of alcohol, and I was 15 when I almost died from it. Having my first sip of alcohol was like having this realization of what was missing in my life. Every one of my friends went through this with boys! All the sudden at 15 it was like everyone around me was discovering how fun it was to have boyfriends and experiment with sex, yet I was mildly uninterested in this. My first kiss was with a girl and even when I finally did kiss a boy it didn’t even compare to that first shot of whiskey I had. Why would anyone waste their time with the drama of relationships when you could just get fucked up? Needless to say, I was the last to lose my virginity of my friends and when I did, I was wasted, because everything was just better drunk. I had gone through my entire life being in pain. My mother tells stories of me saying I had headaches at 2 (before I could even pronounce the word), I was perpetually ill, and my stomach always hurt. Reading back on report cards my mom kept from kindergarten it was clear then I had a long road ahead of myself. I had trouble ever speaking up, I wasn’t well liked because I was so quiet and introverted and easy to pick on, I somehow was always bullied, and my teachers said I opted to play alone with the stuffed animals over humans, and until my siblings came along, I simply felt alone in this world. My house was emotionally volatile to say the least and I was a hypersensitive child who looked at it as my job to always settle the energy. I am not saying any of this to get sympathy, simply some back story to explaining that paired with genetics steeped in addiction, when I had that first sip of alcohol it was like I found something that made sense to me. It lessened the internal pain and trauma that had been festering deep inside me and I no longer had to be the outsider as with a little alcohol my social anxiety eased, and I was able to be a normal human. I even drank at high school in between classes, and if I couldn’t get any alcohol (as I was underage), I simply did drugs. It was more than a crutch, without it this world seemed to swallow me whole, with it I could manage. Thus, beginning a very long love affair with substance abuse.
One day I woke up and I was 28 and a raging alcoholic, and I had become quite good at it. I had gotten employee of the year of the year at the last 3 jobs I worked at and in the off chance I had given myself alcohol poisoning again (at this point I was used to it), instead of going to the hospital with for an IV and to monitor for signs of life I was able now to take some pills, puke in the garbage can beside my desk and continue working saying I had the flu (these were the days no one cared if you were sick, you still had to go to work). People applauded me for my work ethic and to be honest if I continued to get employee of the year no one really card if I had a problem, after all I was more fun with alcohol, and more loved by all, drunk. For anyone who watches the show “Friends” I am “fun Bobby:” Happy and the life of the party with alcohol, but kind of melancholy and awkward without.
When you have spent most of your life drinking and blocking out the hard stuff you start to let in people into your inner circle whom you would normally never let in the front door. I remember my best friend offering up warnings on whom I was hanging out with and the bad vibes she got, but truthfully if they were appeasing my addictions, I didn’t really pay much attention to that stuff. My rock bottom moment happened in my late 20s after one of these friends offered to walk me home saying I was too drunk to walk home alone. I had assumed he left and woke up to him raping me. I continued heavily drinking for a while after that, but it no longer did for me what it did before the rape. Something changed in me after that day, and I knew I needed to get help. My suicidal thoughts had become less subconscious and all the sudden I became aware of how depressed I was in life and how much I didn’t know how to be here without something taking away my pain. At 28 years old I started TRYING to get help, at 35 years old I succeeded. Yes, it took me 7 years to get sober and it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, because unlike what people may assume, you can’t “just stop.” The drink helped me cope with emotions of suicidal thoughts, feeling extremely unloved, and being truly afraid to take up any space at all. At 28 when I attempted to stop drinking, I had a complete nervous breakdown and in the next few years I attempted suicide, ended up in the Ottawa psych ward and entered a program for rape survivors. I had to learn to love myself and sit in the feelings of unworthiness in order to figure out where and why they were coming from. I had to learn to say no, and step away from toxic influences or people who had become very accustomed to my giving nature and be okay that I was essentially losing all my “friends” other than the ones who wanted me to get sober. Considering I had never done this before it was literally like I was learning how to life or take care of myself emotionally for the first time ever in my life. Also, after being hospitalized, I got an official diagnoses of anxiety disorder and severe depressive episodes and am properly medicated. I am also hoping to start the process soon of getting re-diagnosed with ADHD and hopefully getting properly medicated for that. I was diagnosed with ADD in grade 7, but tests back then were not what they are now. Knowing every single part of who I am helps me to not feel like I am forever treading water with the tides working against me when I could just trust trained medical professionals who have a solution for addictions that take over my life in addition to healing work.
Loving myself was so hard to do, and truth be told suicide seemed easier, but I am so glad I am here. I am 1359 days sober (almost 4 years), and the journey to getting help has led to the success of my marriage, friendships that see the real me and enjoy every single part of me including the overwhelmed, sometimes melancholy, withdrawn, lovable weirdo that I am. I also started a whole new career. Turns out there is nothing wrong with me simply because I can feel the emotions of others and want to help ease their pain. I am now a full-time healing facilitator and psychic medium witch, and I honestly have no idea what the hell I was doing before this. I feel so fulfilled in my work and it is this work that keeps me in true alignment with who I am and why I am here on this planet. I also run a successful online Shopify Shop where I sell my Gemstone Energy Alignment Tools where I connect with what is going on in your energy field to crystals and then write up all the things I intuit in a workbook. I share my story to reduce the stigma of addiction and to add some colour to what people may think is something we can just stop doing. Every day I wake up and need to actively choose not to drink. Some days are easier than others but some days I can literally taste the smoothness of a Cîroc Red Berry on Ice and the bitter drip of cocaine dropping down my throat. That never goes away for me and it’s why getting sober without the therapy to understand your own emotions your attempts will most likely be futile. I needed tools on how to not block out those cravings but to dissect what is going on in my psyche so I could then actively tap in and understand at that moment why my cravings were screaming at me. For me my addictions are very much emotional, paired with the fact that I love the high of substances (an ADHD thing). It is also important not to fixate on perfectionism, for example: I am a caffeine addict, and I am unapologetic about it. Yes, I could go all extremist AKA “Russell Brand” about it, but in truth I am not looking to do sobriety by anyone else’s standards, I am looking to feel good about myself and caffeine doesn’t make me feel bad about myself, so it remains. The day it does is the day I will dive deep into that, but I am very careful not to remove all joy from my life as that also can lead to a very potent back slide. JOY, a 3-letter word, so important and so personal.
To check out my work see my below links and thank you so much for being here.
Candice is a working witch who lives happily with her husband and 3 cats in Woodlawn, ON, Canada.
