High Functioning

I've been enjoying the reactions I get from people when I tell them that I'm recovering from an opiate addiction, because the majority of them never knew I was even struggling. The worst part about the stigma surrounding mental health/addiction is that it paints a picture of addicts as all being the homeless people begging for change on the street, and 'rehab' sounds like a place for either superstars in Malibu or degenerates who had to pick between jail or treatment. The sessions at Woburn Wellness talked about the stigma and how it impacted us, and at first I thought "of course I don't believe in the stigma, I'm a walking example of the fact it isn't true." Per usual, I was wrong - after some thoughtful questions from the clinician leading that session, I realized that the stigma is the reason it took me 8 years to finally get the help I needed, because in my mind going to rehab meant admitting failure. I pictured it in my mind for years as a place filled with junkies that were nothing like me, and therefore anytime I was brave enough to tell a doctor about my problems my brain just stopped listening as soon as they started talking about 'seeking treatment.' What's crazy to me now is that I didn't even REALIZE how much the stigma was impacting me until I was finally in treatment - that's why in my mind the societal stigma is the real killer when it comes to addictions, because it's preventing people from getting the help they need.

Here's what being a "high functioning addict" looked like for me...

1. Consistently employed by well-respected companies in Boston (Deloitte and Wayfair) where I was able to progress my career into the beautiful spot it's at now: an Analytics Manager working for the BEST boss in the entire world (seriously, I keep telling my therapist he's in danger of losing his job to my boss, because that's how amazing of a human he is - our check ins generally turn into life-lesson sessions) and I get to pick and choose the projects I work on based on what interests me. The problem is that over the years I convinced myself that I needed pills to do my work... rehab taught me that it was only my belief that the drugs are what made me better at work, because in reality I was working and hiding my addiction which took quite a bit more thinking than just doing my job does. Nothing like a clandestine meeting with my 7 foot tall African American drug dealer (I love ya Curve, you'll always be my longest and favorite relationship even though I've had to stop seeing you) in between teaching SQL at work and running meetings about 'brand positioning' to make for an exciting day. Kidding, I hated myself more and more every time I stood outside Saks waiting for him to show up with the goods so I could quickly run back to my office and snort them then start really working for the day - it's a feeling I wouldn't wish on anyone that's for sure.
2. Lots of friends, most of which had no idea I was struggling with addiction problems, because I didn't want anyone to think I was some sort of junkie that would steal their money (I have NEVER stolen anything or done anything unscrupulous for drug money - I purchased my own, thank you very much). From time to time I would confide in a close friend, usually during a time when I wanted to get help or was really panicking about how I had gotten myself into such a mess with the pill use, but with each friend I confided in I always eventually pretended that I had gotten myself sorted out - I couldn't handle the guilt of knowing they were worried about me. The lying is what really ate at me in the past few years, but the result was that by the time I did finally seek help I was met with surprised reactions from all of my friends. Luckily, the friends that matter didn't even complain about the fact I had lied about getting off the pills earlier - safe to say I've realized that a lot of the friends I thought were important to me actually don't know me at all, and they're the ones who acted like my addiction was a personal affront to them. Don't worry, the story of telling those types of friends is one I'll write up soon.
3. A loving family that had no idea, with the exception of my brother. He's my best friend and has been my roommate for over a year now - yet even he thought I had gotten clean in September of 2018 (another story for a later posting). When I told him I was going to do the program at Woburn Wellness, he simply said "oh wow okay, do you need anything from me? I didn't even realize you were still doing them, you clearly don't show it at all because I always thought I'd be able to tell if you were." That's why he's my best friend - he knew I didn't want to have a big emotional conversation about it (that's never been our style), he just expressed his thoughts and promised to be there for me, which was exactly what I needed. When I almost backed out from doing the program, he surprised me with an incredibly insightful comment: "yeah you're going to be nervous and maybe hate it, but it's just like what you told me your friend said about working out - you don't do it for how you feel during the workout, you do it because you feel good after" ...mic drop. I've never appreciated him more than in that moment. As for the rest of my family, I did end up telling my sister while I was in the program and she was great about it, but I still haven't told my parents. At this point it's really just a matter of figuring out how to tell them in a way that ensures they won't feel guilty for anything - my family is big on feeling guilty unnecessarily, must be a genetic thing, because both my mother and I can manage to think anything is our fault. I grew up with so much love and happiness, it kills me to think that my parents would question where they went wrong that led to me becoming an addict - the reality of course is that it had absolutely nothing to do with them and everything to do with a few poor choices and my fucked up brain chemistry. I'll find a way to explain that someday.
4. A LOT of fun - and I mean that, I am so grateful that I managed not to lose myself entirely to drug addiction because I have had a damn good time being alive. Thanks to baby Al and her unicorn of a boyfriend --> fiancé --> husband, I've flown on a private jet to Vegas, spent a weekend at his family's mansion in Sea Island, brought in a new year on Nikki Beach in Miami, partied all night in NYC with them more nights than I can count, and that's just listing the things I've done with Allie. I've been on plenty of bachelorettes with my gorgeous friends (Nashville, Disney, I even hosted my sister's with a male stripper!), had the honor of meeting my badass super-mom best friend Nicole at the hospital to hold my darling baby CJ before he was out of the hospital and weighed less than a tiny pillow... you get the idea.
5. Boys boys boys... as my BBO babes know, I often contemplated writing my future best seller about my dating life, because the stories I have are like scenes out of a horror/comedy movie (definitely not a romantic one, except maybe for a certain German boyfriend <3). For the purposes of describing life as a high functioning addict, it's safe to say my love life was only impacted by my own unwillingness to commit to someone else while dealing with so much inner turmoil. Otherwise, I've had more than my fair share of success in the dating world - and other than the guy I dated in college who got me started in the pills, none of them were addicts. Future posts will absolutely go into more detail, but for now, I wrote out a summary below.

The Dating Game

When I first graduated college, I started dating [name removed per request... I guess I'll call him Mr. Dog Thief, since that's what I call him nowadays anyways] and we were together for years - even moved to California where we adopted a dog, moved back here and lived together in both places. From the moment we talked about officially dating, I knew I had to be honest with him about the addiction problem. This was when I was still naïve enough to think that 'starting a job in the real world' would magically ensure that all my drug use stopped... HAH. Safe to say that was not the case at all, and poor Mr. Dog Thief had to deal with A LOT of my insanity during those years. I honestly still often wonder why on Earth he put up with me for so long, but I'm sure he's now incredibly grateful that I ended things (even if he wasn't at the time... not that I'm still holding a grudge over him not letting me see our dog or anything - ASSHOLE) because he's married to a lovely girl that I'm sure is far better suited for him than I ever was.

Ever since that breakup (Sept 2016), I have kept my 'relationships' pretty casual. I absolutely crush the apps, which I'll save for another post that includes the many many screenshots I've collected over the years. Some of the relationships lasted longer than others, but I always knew deep down that I had a lot of things to work through myself before committing to someone else. Never again would I put someone through the insanity I inflicted on Mr. Dog Thief, because that type of guilt would eat me alive. Generally I only told them about the drug problem if I wanted to end things (I suck at break-ups, it's so much easier if they think it's their idea to call it over), because nothing kills the romance faster than picturing a future filled with a stereotypical addict (hey I guess the stigma worked out for me in those cases). The best part is I think most of them truly had themselves convinced that they "of course" were not ending it because I told them about my addiction. The best example is the one I'll save for last, but seriously the FBI agent I dated (who truly scared the shit out of me when he picked me up for our first date and informed me of what his real job was since he didn't feel comfortable telling me until we had met in person - I thought for sure I was about to be arrested) seemed to think that fixing my addiction would be as simple as him taking me out on adventures. When I informed him that while yes I was having a great time hanging out with him and shooting bows and arrows (that was actually very fun, although doing anything sober while in a period of active drug use is miserable because you're just detoxing) it didn't mean I wasn't still getting high when I wasn't with him he freaked out, at which point I was happy to have an excuse to end it. I love it when things go according to my plans, because it happens so rarely. Two other guys that I actually still call friends today both also slowly but surely distanced themselves once I told them - I don't blame them for it at all, because they were looking for someone ready to settle down and clearly I wasn't. I'd rather that than the torture of this next story - the last guy I dated before going to Woburn Wellness.

This fucker honestly still annoys me when I think about the situation too much, because in my opinion there is nothing worse than a guy that acts like they're 'one of the nice guys' as a way to hide the fact they're secretly worse than any of the "fuck boys" or assholes who are honest about it. Originally I got annoyed with him pretty quickly so I pulled out my tried and true method for ensuring an eventual breakup: told him about my addiction struggles. He reacted to it so well (in my eyes at least, which means he didn't really mention it ever again) that eventually I actually began liking him more - fatal mistake on my part since I knew the end would be coming sooner or later. He had the audacity to end things without any preamble, just by bringing over a bag of my stuff that was at his apartment in a fucking GROCERY BAG. Not even the reusable kind, just a shitty plastic one! Even worse, he then proceed to sit on my bed for OVER AN HOUR essentially talking through the reasons he felt we shouldn't continue seeing each other (I spent that hour wishing he would be like a normal guy and just 'ghost' me). That hour included him casually informing me that when we had met months earlier he was actually only one month out of a long-term relationship that left him totally heart broken. Yeah, I had told him my entire life story by this point and he didn't think that was at all relevant before the ending things convo I didn't even want to have!?!? Nope, he assured me that I was in no way a rebound, he "got that out of the way" before we met (WTF!?), and he was "absolutely over that" so of course he didn't feel the need to tell me. Right, absolutely over that... because everyone gets over a devastating heartbreak in just a month... NOT! It took me years to feel comfortable on my own again after Mr. Dog Thief, and I was the one who wanted out of that relationship! In John's situation where he was dumped by a girl he thought he was doing to propose to, I'm pretty sure he was still suffering the after-shocks when he met me 30 DAYS LATER. Wow, this is making me mad just thinking about it again, maybe I should harass him a bit more since he now has a new girlfriend.. despite the fact that one of the far too many reasons he felt the need to list out for me as to why we couldn't see each other was that he was concerned that we were getting too serious too fast (someday I'll find a way to explain to people that my personality/willingness to include anyone in anything is not an indication that I want to 'get serious' about a relationship with them) and he needed time to be single because his friends/family always gave him crap for jumping from relationship to relationship. I'd bet a ton of money on the fact that he met his current girlfriend right before he decided to end things with me - which honestly, would have been a MUCH easier reason to swallow! Let me tell ya, listening to a guy that you thought you were just having a great time casually dating (aka having great sex) tell you about how your 'life values'. 'future plans', and 'hobbies/interests' are just too different from his - and by different, he was incredibly clear that meant he thought I had no real life values, wasn't ready to be a wife, and my only hobby was hanging on the couch smoking weed and playing with my dog. Yeah, safe to say I fell into such a funk/existential crises afterwards that it honestly was a huge motivating factor to finally do a program. I think I thanked him a month ago when I was in the 'pink cloud of sobriety' feeling loving and grateful for everyone in my life... well that pink cloud is long gone, and all I have to say is I hope karma serves him exactly what all assholes that pretend to be nice guys deserve: a wife that hates having sex.

So yeah, see? Maybe 'normal' isn't the word I'd use to describe the past decade of my life, but I wasn't hanging out in drug dens or dating guys to get a fix - I was just secretly getting high and (I thought) enjoying life more because of it. Now I realize that being high just kept me from feeling all the emotions I should have felt. It masked the bad ones and made me find anything interesting instead of forcing me to figure out what truly mattered to me. Don't worry, I'm making up for the lost time now ;)