Addiction_2

Addiction is often a symptom of past trauma and emotional pain. It's like using ice cream to temporarily soothe a stubbed toe. Addiction can be a result of seeking comfort, but too much of it can make life worse. The speaker shares their personal experience with addiction and how they learned to live alongside it. They found strength and support within themselves to choose a different path. Childhood trauma can lead to addiction as a way to chase feel-good chemicals like dopamine and opioids. Legal medications can also become addictive. It's important to reconnect with your authentic self and handle emotions in a healthy way. Addiction isn't just bad habits gone wild. It's a symptom of a bigger, sadder story, often rooted in past dramas. Think of it like a neon sign flashing SOS, emotional baggage here. Instead of judging someone struggling with addiction, we should ask, hey, why all the pain? What led you to seek comfort in this way? It's like when you stub your toe and scream for ice cream. The ice cream doesn't fix the stubbed toe, but it makes the ouches a little sweeter. Addiction, in a way, is that ice cream for emotional ouches. But just like too much ice cream gives you a tummy ache, too much of this demon friend can make life way worse. Addiction isn't just some random bad habit. It's like a neon sign flashing trauma alert. You see, bad stuff happening, or good stuff not happening, can leave scars deeper than a paper cut. Addiction, a monster that unfortunately touches so many of us, including myself. Yeah, me too. Hey everyone, this is Karolina. And I'm going to share with you my own experience, my own depressive journey. But you know how I got rid of my addiction? I don't see it as a battle to be won or lost anymore. Instead, I learned to live alongside it, like wary neighbors. This journey wasn't just about overcoming addiction. It was about discovering the strength and support within myself that helped me navigate the darkness and ultimately choose a different path. At the end, I'll also tell you about that pillar that gave me strength and support to overcome that situation. I know, it's not the most glamorous topic, but trust me, it's important. Addiction, unfortunately, is one of those challenges that affects so many of us, no matter who we are. It creeps in, often disguised as a temporary relief, and before we know it, it's twisting our lives around. Even, I never thought, I'd be also struggling with addiction. In my early 20s, partying was the norm. Drinks with friends, letting loose after work. It was all about feeling free and cool. But as I hit my late 20s and early 30s, things shifted. The parties faded, replaced by solo wine binges at home. Work stress, running my own business, and taking on another one. It was all too much. I was drowning my stress and anxieties in booze, chugging down wine to numb the overwhelm. My business, once my trophy, felt like a scar now. The stress they'd brought had burrowed deep, a serpent coiling in my gut, squeezing the joy out of everything. Wine, which used to be the jester, the life of the party, became a reaper. My body finally screamed, Enough! Even tiny sips triggered nausea, sending me to the toilet, feeling like death. So, my great friend stepped in with the magic solution. Weed. It seemed perfect. Weed chilled me out, replaced the nasty hangovers with peaceful sleep, and even boosted my work efficiency. Little did I know, I was part of the unfortunate 2-3% who could develop cannabinoid hyperemesis syndrome, CHS, from daily use. CHS was like a twisted joke. The very relief weed offered had become my tormentor, its initial magic a twisted prelude to the suffocating grip of CHS. I lost weight, food became a nightmare, and nausea became my constant companion. It wouldn't quit unless I smoked again, or soaked in a scalding hot bath for hours, pure torture. I stopped, stayed clean for months, only to fall back into the trap later that year. Desperate, I turned to the professionals, but their help felt cold and distant, like I was just another case file. Shame kept me from reaching out to my friends, fearing their judgment. The professionals I had abandoned were busy doling out a different kind of escape, a chemical one. So I felt left alone, with no help. When I felt helpless and felt invisible handcuffs on my hand, I took a leap of faith with a mastermind course. I stumbled upon a lifeline, a mastermind course filled not with doctors, but with kindred spirits and raw wisdom. They didn't see a case file, they saw me, the broken pieces, the yearning for wholeness. Their approach was a bomb, understanding my trauma, rewiring my brain, unearthing the me beneath the layers of pain. It was a brutal dance, but with each step, the clinking of the past faded, replaced by the steady beat of my own heart. The party I thought I needed was over, but a new music started inside me. This time, I wasn't dancing to forget, but to celebrate the rebirth of myself. Rising from the ashes with wings of hope and freedom, it felt like living again, not just surviving. The doctors had their pills, their charts, their pronouncements, but the real cure, the raw, messy miracle, that was all me, all heart, all fight, all the fire of a survivor finally dancing to the beat of their own damn drum. You know, addiction is the grumpy friend living rent-free in your brain, always demanding treats and causing chaos. Society likes to pretend trauma doesn't exist, shoving it under the rug like a forgotten gym sock. But that sneaky study, the adverse childhood experiences one, blew the lid off that dusty rug and showed a clear link with tough childhood stuff like abuse, neglect, or family drama. This isn't some evil villain, though. It's just a scaredy cat hiding from the monsters of childhood trauma. But Dr. Gabor Mate shines a light on these monsters with his fancy trauma theory, showing how childhood algees can turn into the devil's playground. Think about broken promises, scary fights, or the absence of warm cuddles. But this isn't just after any old fun. It's chasing a specific high, a rush of feel-good chemicals like dopamine, the brain's party starter, and opioids, nature's painkillers. These chemicals are like fireworks in the brain, making you feel alive and loved, even if it's just for a fleeting moment. So, whether you're chasing the dopamine rush of gambling or the numbing comfort of heroin, it's all about the same thing, tricking the brain into feeling good, even if it means making a mess of your life in the long run. It's like chasing after that perfect Instagram filter before your emotions. When we do this too often, it can mess with your brain's emotional thermostat, making you super sensitive to stress. Suddenly, even a small bump in the road, like a little argument, can feel like a huge mountain, pushing us back to those not-so-helpful coping mechanisms. Stress, relationships, and work pressures can be like little demons. Imagine your brain as a construction site and your early childhood as the blueprints. If those blueprints are shaky, the building ain't gonna be straight, right? That's exactly what happens with childhood trauma. You know what happens to your brain when you're addicted? Imagine your brain has a secret stash of painkillers, like tiny ninjas ready to fight the alchies. These are your opioids, and they get triggered even by a sugar-coated lie. So just thinking about something good can unleash a ninja army of feel-good chemicals. Now, addictive substances like heroin and opium, they're like master keys that fit perfectly into your opioid lock, flooding your brain with a tsunami of relief. It's like finding the ultimate comfort food, but in a chemical form. Who wouldn't want that? But your brain also has a party starter called dopamine. This guy gets pumped up when you're chasing a delicious meal or a potential mate. Dopamine makes you feel alive like a disco ball in a brain rave. Now, if you're feeling a bit down, like a wilted flower, dopamine can be your rain shower, giving you a temporary boost of confidence and excitement. But just like with anything, the more you chase that dopamine high, the more you need it to feel normal. It's like needing more and more coffee to wake up in the morning. You know, addiction is not just about alcohol or drugs or something, but it's got a sneaky side too you might not know about. It's all about those legal meds sometimes. There's Adderall, the ADHD buddy helping you focus, but sometimes it becomes your best friend, the only way you can get things done. But it's become your only weapon in the battle of productivity. Without it, your brain feels like mush, your motivation a ghost. The once helpful tool has become a crutch, leaving you shaky and dependent. Then Fentanyl, your fave one, that powerful pain reliever. But taking it like candy can land you in big trouble. But that relief has a price tag, one measured in addiction and overdose. Even Xanax, the anxiety suitor, can become a crutch when you rely on more than you should. It's like you get so used to the quiet it brings, you can't face things without it. It's lullaby is addictive, you forget how to face the noise. It's all about that fine line, right? These meds can be lifesavers when used properly, but getting hooked on them is real too. The thing is, some folks don't even realize they're stuck in the cycle. Addicts aren't hooked on the substance itself, but on the chemical party it throws in their brain. It's like falling in love with the fireworks, not the sparkler itself. That's why Dr. Gabor Mate doesn't care much about the specific addiction, it's the underlying need for the feel-good chemicals that needs attention. Think of it like this, addicts are like toddlers with their emotions. Their brain circuits haven't fully matured, so stress is like a monster under the bed, ready to trigger a tantrum. But I personally believe the key to handling the situation is reconnecting with your authentic self, the one who got buried under all that childhood drama. Tuning out isn't always a bad thing, it's a coping mechanism, like a superhero cape for your brain. But sometimes the cape gets stuck, and you end up with adaptive dysfunction. It's like wearing your superhero cape to the grocery store, maybe a bit overkill, right? It's like finding your lost inner child and giving it a big hug. This means listening to your gut feelings, letting your emotions flow freely, even the messy ones, and learning to be present in the moment, not stuck in the past. I've learned throughout my journey, that it's not about popping pills or slapping a label on your kid, it's about understanding the emotional blueprint and finding ways to heal those old wounds. It's like renovating that construction site, tearing down the wonky walls and building something strong and beautiful in their place. You should not be a judgmental person to an addictive one. You don't know, maybe he suffered a lot with his childhood. You should ask him, why are you in pain? Find the main root of the problem, help him to connect with his authentic self. A supporting person is very important. I sought help, but not from the professionals. These guys weren't doctors or therapists, but they had something else, common sense, and a genuine desire to help people like me. They focused on self-improvement, accountability, and understanding the root of my problems. It wasn't easy. Peeling back the layers of my trauma was messy. It wasn't always easy, but with each step, I felt the grip of addiction loosen, replaced by a burgeoning sense of freedom and self-mastery. Through this journey, I reclaimed myself, the real me. Finally, I felt like someone was listening. Today, I face the world with clear eyes and a full heart, a living example, that healing is possible, one mindful breath, one act of self-love at a time. The journey through addiction may be long and arduous, but it's important to remember that you are not alone. Find a community, a mentor, a friend who will listen without judgment, and hold space for your vulnerabilities. Remember, healing happens in connection, not isolation. Remember, the numbing chemicals might offer temporary relief, but they only mask the pain. Instead, turn inwards with compassion, understand your triggers, and find healthy ways to navigate them. Treat yourself with the same gentleness and understanding you'd offer a loved one. Journal your journey, let your emotions flow freely, and celebrate every small victory. Find an accountability partner, someone who walks beside you. Share your struggles, set goals together, and hold each other accountable on your path to wholeness. Rediscover your passions, join communities with shared interests, and find purpose in something bigger than yourself. Let's ditch the judgment and offer support instead. Because remember, even the strongest trees need a little help to stand tall. If you want to join this healing journey, subscribe, share, thumbs up, and join in, and become the change you want to see.