Anxiety, Addiction... Mental Health and Me
Posted by iamcraigeveritt
2nd Oct 2020

Background Story...

Ok, so, none of this is easy to write but I am on the road to recovery. I am not healed or cured, and I don't think it may even be possible, but I am now in a place where I want to share my experiences to help people, especially us men, start talking about mental health of any form. I know this is going to help me, writing about the rest of the journey, and if this reaches and helps just one person on their own journey then it will be worth it.

Here I am then, approaching my 44th year, middle-aged! Some would say that they are surprised that I made it to this age. I would say, I have to agree with them. Classed as an addict by the doctors and society, but it wasnít until I was approaching 40 that this is actually true. Yes, since I was 18 I did a lot of recreational drugs and drank like it was going out of fashion but I wasnít trying to block out horrid part of my life, I did it because it was fun. I was having a great time. Ok, yes, it was excessive and then some, but my biggest problem wasnít the drink or drugs necessarily. I mean I didnít wake up in the morning clucking for a drink or a line. I would get up and drag myself to work. My biggest problem was myself. I have no Ďoff switchí. If I was going to have a drink, I was going to get pissed. If I was going raving, then why take one pill at a time when you can double drop. If you are going to get some Charlie, itís pointless buying one gram. You get the picture.

Remember the 90ís? Yeah, meÖ? Not so much. All a bit of a blur. The only thing I remember about the 90ís, clear as day, is the birth of my son. After that it was back to the selfish, party obsessed, job hopping, womanising, raving, messed up Craig who would not grow up. This is basically the way I stayed until my mid-thirties. A fucking mess.

I now do not drink or take any kind of recreational drugs and I havenít for a number of years. What I do have problems with is anxiety. Panic attacks. Major ones. I reached out to the doctor, but when I brought up my past most doctors that I saw would quickly change their tone and no real help was offered. I needed to control this and I needed to do it myself. So, seeing as I knew where to locate bits and bobs, I hooked myself up with a supply of diazepam. 5mg tablets initially, UK pharmacy grade. Only taking one when I started to have a panic attack. However, I was a car salesman and when the fear hit, it was already too late so I soon switched to taking them proactively rather than reactively. Iím not going to lie, it was great! Living in a completely calm, relaxed state. Nothing was too stressful, there wasnít anything I couldnít deal with. Life was good. Smashing it at work and sleeping like a baby.

Now let's fast forward a couple of years. I am now taking 10mg tablets, 2 at a time, 5 maybe 6 times a day. Getting crippling headaches and falling asleep as soon as I sit on the sofa when I get home. Iíve got a problem. Iíve got a massive problem. It dawns on me, I actually am an addict.

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