Sober, Sick, and Still Spiraling

HowToLiveWhileDying
Jul 21
4 min read

Because sometimes healing means learning to live in the wreckage.

Let’s get real today: living with addiction is hard. Living with chronic illness is harder. Sprinkling in mental health issues while trying to be a functioning adult? The hardest.

As always, it begins with genetics — they love to crash the party. If your family tree includes autoimmune disorders, you're already walking on Legos. And if you happen to be someone (like me) who used intravenous drugs? Congratulations! You may have just hit the genetic jackpot and triggered something that was lurking quietly, waiting to ruin your life at a moment’s notice.

And because time machines still don’t exist — to our knowledge — there’s no way to know if that autoimmune condition would’ve activated on its own someday. But the drugs?

Yeah… they definitely didn’t help, my friend.

🧬 Triggered (And Not in the Fun TikTok Way)

I come from a bloodline sprinkled with rare autoimmune delights. I was living my chaotic little life when one IV infection flipped the autoimmune switch in my body. I started with one diagnosis. Now? It’s like collecting Pokémon — I’ve gotta catch 'em all.

It. Freaking. Sucks.

💔 Recovery Isn't a Reset Button

When I got “sober,” things were supposed to get better… or so I thought. Unfortunately for me, I got diagnosed right at the end of my drug addiction and right at the beginning of my alcohol addiction.

I went through a weird phase of hating myself even more than I did while using — because I was sure my health conditions were 110% my fault. Like, not just "bad luck," but "I literally poisoned myself and now my body is avenging itself."

So while I had dropped the needle, I hadn’t been able to drop the shame. And because I hadn’t officially claimed the title of alcoholic yet (that came after some legal troubles), I became the human version of “hold my beer and watch this.”

🍷 Prednisone, Pills, and Pinnacle Vodka

I convinced myself (and everyone else) that alcohol helped my pain. And hey — when you're taking 10 pills a day for mental and physical health, what’s a little alcohol on top? No wonder I also have gastroparesis now…

This included prednisone, by the way. Yes, that prednisone.

If you haven’t read about my feral steroid journey, you really should:👉 Mentally Ill, Autoimmune, and Definitely Feral: Thanks, Prednisone!

Imagine taking that rage-inducing drug while drinking like Captain Jack Sparrow during happy hour.

Yeah. I was basically a gremlin with trauma and a pharmacy.

🔄 Stuck in the Cycle

The alcohol dulled the pain… but it was mostly just the pain I was creating for myself. I didn’t know how to process the reality of my health. I was only 21 or 22. And as smart as people thought I was, I genuinely didn’t understand the connection between alcohol, autoimmune responses, and inflammation.

And honestly?

I didn’t fucking care. (My apologies, I'm just very serious!)

I was already broken. My mental health was unraveling. My psych diagnosis changed every other appointment because the poor guy couldn’t tell which symptoms were real and which were masked by the drinking I wasn’t disclosing.

I was a literal raging dumpster fire with nothing to put me out except the cold, hard truth of the law.(That will be covered in another eventual blog post. Stay tuned.)

🧘‍♀️ Sobriety... and Still Sick as Ever

Eventually, I stopped drinking too. And you know what happened?

I was still sick.

Sure, some labs improved slightly. But I think the real damage had already been done. My doctor tells me, “It’s just the nature of the disease,” but some days I wonder if we’re even talking about the right one.

Because my substance use didn’t just damage my health — it put me in a vulnerable position to literally teach my body to attack itself. So now, while I’m in therapy learning how not to self-sabotage, my immune system is in the back screaming,“Haha, too late, sucker!”

I try to put on my therapist pants and challenge my distorted thinking, but it’s hard — so hard — to not feel responsible for the misery I’m stuck in. It feels like I went straight from one disease to another. I began to wonder what I had done to deserve this life.

💥 Recovery, Weight, and Water Retention Galore

While I was navigating weight gain from sobriety and healing, I was also inflamed from chronic illness and ballooning from prednisone. My face was puffy. My joints ached. My mental health dwindled — fast.

For someone who struggled with disordered eating as a teenager into young adulthood, dealing with excessive weight gain was its own battle — one that probably deserves its own blog post too.

The internal war — between progress and punishment, healing and hurting — is enough to make you question everything: your sanity, your worth, and whether you’re even “doing recovery right.”

Spoiler alert: There’s no right way to do recovery.

✨ What Helped?

So, what helped me break that self-sabotaging cycle?

I got consistent with my sobriety.
I got consistent with my mental health meds (and finally got honest with my psychiatrist and therapist).
And I started taking my health more seriously.

Now? I may not be “fixed.” But I’m healing — to the best of my ability. And I’ll always strive for more. I encourage you to do the same; you owe it to yourself.

Because now, no matter the pain or ailment, I am happy. I am free.

🖤 Final Thought: You’re Not the Only One Living a Triple Life

Addiction, mental illness, and chronic illness are all liars. They whisper that you did this to yourself. That you deserve it. That you'll never get better.

They’re wrong.

I didn’t cause my illnesses. I may have contributed to how they showed up, but I didn’t invent them. Andneither did you.

If you’re like I was — stuck in that weird in-between space where healing feels like hell and self-love is a moving target — you’re right where you need to be, for now. Just stay consistent.

You’re not broken. You’re just human.