Nicole’s Relapse
‘Nicole’ reflects on relapsing
During my last week in the house I was a bag of mixed emotions. I was excited to be going home and back to Manchester. I was feeling anxious about my ex and bumping into him because the last time we’d spoken we had argued. I was feeling proud of myself for completing rehab and the recovery journey I’d been on and lastly, I was feeling frustrated about the stress and strains I had felt with the house.
I was fed up of being here and was eager and anxious to be getting on with the next period of my life – a new chapter, or so I thought. I was also feeling sad to be leaving the house, the treatment process, the peers I had met and become close to, the staff, and the help and support I’d received had become a big part of my life and it felt like I was leaving my home and my ‘family’ behind. But overall, I was feeling happy and excited to be going.
On the day I left, I was so looking forward to be getting back to Manchester, my home. I’d missed it so much and was convinced was going to stay on the right path and continue my recovery.
I said my goodbyes to the staff and my peers and headed to the train station. I was so happy.
When I got on the train, a thought of having a glass of wine to celebrate popped into my head but I remember dismissing it - but it instantly popped straight back into my head, and that’s when I began to ponder over it.
I knew Terry was picking me up from the train station and I was considering it my head that he may smell it on me so thought, ‘well if I just get one little bottle as a celebratory reward for all my hard work in completing recovery then that would be it. I’d be okay.
So, when I got to Milton Keynes, I came out of the station and went to M & S. I hesitated over the wine and in the end, I bought 2 little bottles. I knew I was making a mistake deep down but I told myself I’d stop at those. I didn’t. I bought 3 more on the train and before I knew it, I was pissed.
When I got off the train and met Terry, I was overly happy and slurring my words. Terry immediately knew and pointed it out and I confessed to having had a drink. He was obviously disappointed but I tried to assure him I wasn’t going to continue drinking, which by then we both knew was a lie.
He dropped me off at my flat and as soon as he left, with my inhibitions lowered I went to the shop and bought another full bottle and went out to and score. I was back to square one.
And of course, I went at it hard. Most of the rest of my relapse is a blur. I went on to take pre gablins for the rest of the week along with the drink and the drugs. I went to the Oasis concert and all I can remember was walking around with a bottle of vodka glued to my hand and doing handstands against a wall before another of one of the many blackouts I incurred during those 4 weeks.
I remember bumping into my ex and arguing with him texting me a load of abuse so I called the police and he was arrested and issued with a DVPO, meaning he wasn’t allowed near me or to contact me for 3 months.
But as usual, he ignored it and I ended up bumping into him a few days later and I’d got my hands on a load of amantadine and I’d had about 5 by this point. All I can remember is trying to walk away from him, then us having a bit of an argument and him smacking me at the side of my face.
Next thing I know I was waking up on the bench outside a local bar with no shoes and no bag. I’d been robbed as I was sleeping and it was the next morning, so I’d been passed out all night. Anything could have happened to me.
Anyway, I ended up having to go to Terry’s council office in the pouring rain with no shoes on to go and get a spare key of mine he held for me because my flat key had been in my backpack that had been robbed.
Whilst there I told him I had made a mistake in leaving Oxygen and not going to Second Stage. I asked if I could go back and he said he’d look into it.
A few days passed and I was stopped by police officers and arrested on suspicion of assault. Turns out, the night my ex had hit me, he had then phoned the police and said that I had attacked him. It was complete bullshit so obviously so I refused to be interviewed.
The police insisted they would have to do it in the police cell – so I just ignored all the interview questions and stayed in silence. About half an hour later, I was released with NIA and a police officer took me home.
As typical of me, I bought some nice wine and just there on my own crying and full of despair. My ex had ruined my life and was continuing to. He seemed hell-bent on destroying me and I’d had enough of it.
I noticed my medication on the table and on a whim, I opened the bag and took the lot. It was a mixture of sertraline, propranolol and lansoprazole which was between about 50-60 tablets. I immediately passed out. When I came around, it was mid-afternoon and I physically couldn’t move. It was like I had a dead weight on top of my body. I had to drag myself across the floor of my flat to the toilet which took me all of my strength to do. It was horrendous.
After finishing on the toilet, I passed out again on the floor and the next thing I knew, I was waking up and over 24 hours had passed.
I could have died all alone in my flat and having no-one around. God knows when I would have been found. It was an eye opener for sure.
Terry called me the day after to tell me I could go back to Oxygen but I had to be detoxed first.
I was so relieved and happy to be going back. I was going back to a safe place, a home, a place I felt like I belonged – a place where I could continue my recovery and get back to sobriety quickly. So just after 2 weeks after I’d left, I was back on my way to Oxygen detox.
When I got there, I found out that the detox had an infestation of bed bugs and I just lost it. I have a terrible phobia of insects and spiders and I couldn’t bear the thought of staying there any longer. I knew that my bed at Oxygen rehab wasn’t ready yet so I upped and left and went back to Manchester.
Terry wasn’t happy with me and informed he would be closing my case.
When I arrived back in Manchester, I immediately bumped into my ex. He was traying to be nice and speak to me as I walked along. At the same time, a local police officer spotted us together and knowing my ex wasn’t supposed to be near me, arrested him.
It seemed to be just one thing after another. My life was spiralling out of control and falling apart with passing minute. I couldn’t cope with everything that was happening so off I went to the shop to buy 2 bottles of wine and then I went and bought a load of crack.
I remember I had a bit of a blackout and the next thing I remember I was back out scoring again but this time I bought heroin too.
I don’t take heroin but my head was that gone I didn’t care. I just wanted to escape everything as much as possible.
So obviously, as I don’t take heroin, it didn’t sit well with me. I was constantly vomiting on-stop for about 12 hours. I was sick that much that I burst the blood vessels in my windpipe and they were coming out of my mouth at a constant rate.
I was a mess and I could barely move so I rang an ambulance who admitted me and put me on a drip. I really was at rock bottom.
I realised that enough was enough and I couldn’t continue living like that. I had had enough of it all. I wanted a better life. More than anything I wanted to live and not die.
So, the day after, I was back on the phone to Terry, begging him [like] crazy to give me one last chance to get back into the rehab.
He really challenged me, making sure I was 100% committed to change. I was desperate for recovery and just one last chance to do the right thing.
And luckily, he gave it to me. I owe my life to that man. He has always told me he has never given up on helping me for the past 7 years because he knows I really am committed to beating addiction by never giving up trying.
I have never stopped giving up trying, by never giving up.