40 Years Sedated: Long Term Codeine Use in the UK and the Truth About Recovery
If you’ve ever wondered what long term codeine use in the UK really looks like, here’s the truth, raw, unfiltered, and complete. This is a story of injury, medication, alcohol, and decades of survival in a system that medicated the symptoms but never treated the cause. It’s also a cautionary tale for anyone trapped in the same cycle right now.
I was chemically sedated for over four decades. It began in the army in the mid-80s after a serious back injury. Painkillers, repeat prescriptions, and a culture of pushing through no matter the pain became my reality. No one ever asked why the pain never stopped. They just kept handing me more pills. While the NHS numbed my body, I numbed my mind with alcohol, often to excess. I mixed strong prescription meds with booze regularly, chasing relief and escaping reality. How I’m still alive is a mystery I don’t take for granted.
The Army Painkiller Starter Pack: Brufen and Booze
If you served back then, you’ll remember Brufen 400mg handed out like sweets. Sprained ankle? Brufen. Wrecked back from a bad jump? Brufen. Head pounding after a weekend bender? Brufen again. It was nicknamed ‘bulletproof Brufen’, but really it was just a plaster over a bullet wound.
We didn’t get rehab plans or proper treatment. We got pills and an unspoken order to crack on. The message was clear: get through it, no questions asked. When Brufen wasn’t enough, I turned to alcohol. I wasn’t drinking to socialise; I was drinking to cope, to escape, to function. Every ache, frustration, and sleepless night got washed down with lager, spirits, or whatever was at hand. It was the soldier’s unspoken prescription: medicate the pain by any means necessary.
The culture around us normalised this. If you weren’t taking the meds, you were seen as soft. If you turned down a drink, you were seen as antisocial. It was a double hit of chemical coping, and I took it all in.
Coproxamol: The Silent Killer
Then came Coproxamol. It dulled my senses and gave me the illusion of control, a warm numbness that made life just about bearable. I took it for years. In 2005, it was quietly pulled from the market because it was killing people, even in small overdoses. The dangers had been known, but like so many, I was never warned.
By then, I was locked into the cycle: painkillers to get through the day, alcohol to get through the night. This went on for years without intervention. Outwardly, I seemed functional, but inside, I was falling apart. My health was deteriorating, my relationships strained, my mental resilience eroded.
From Coproxamol to Codeine, Tramadol and Benzos
When Coproxamol disappeared, the replacements arrived in quick succession:
- Co-codamol 30/500
- Dihydrocodeine
- Tramadol
- Diazepam
Different names, same sedation. The doses increased over time. My tolerance went up, my dependency deepened, and the drinking never stopped. I took meds to mask pain and drank to numb the rest, living in a haze where days blurred into weeks and years slipped away unnoticed. The side effects stacked up: brain fog, digestive issues, unpredictable moods, but the prescriptions kept coming.
The NHS Pain Pathway: A Holding Pattern, Not a Cure
I’ve had a prolapsed disc since my 20s. The NHS knew. My ‘treatment’ was three physio sessions, a box of pills, and the advice to “come back if it gets worse.” It got worse. They upped the pills. There was no plan to fix me, only to keep me quiet and functioning enough to stay off the urgent list.
This is the reality for thousands: not recovery, just a revolving door of prescriptions. People are managed, not healed. The long-term costs, physical, mental, and emotional, are ignored in favour of short-term symptom control.
From Sedated to Sober
In December, I quit alcohol for good. Soon after, I stopped taking codeine and benzos. The early days were rough, the pain was sharper, my emotions raw, and my body went through the hell of withdrawal. But I started moving again, eating real food, doing breathwork, and plunging into cold water. I rebuilt my mindset day by day, learning to sit with discomfort instead of medicating it.
The pain hasn’t vanished, but I’m awake for the first time in decades. That clarity, that control over my own choices, is worth more than any prescription ever gave me. I now live with purpose rather than sedation. I no longer fear feeling — even pain has its place when it’s real.
Why I’m Sharing This
This is bigger than my story. It’s about every UK veteran, every manual worker, every person stuck on long term codeine use without real support. We’ve been told to carry on, to accept sedation as the best we can hope for. We’ve been managed into silence, made to believe that dependency is inevitable.
You’re not weak. You’ve been kept still by a system that manages pain but doesn’t heal it. You can wake up too. The first step is deciding you deserve better, then taking action, however small, to get there.
FAQs on Long Term Codeine Use in the UK
Is long term codeine use dangerous?
Yes. It can cause dependency, withdrawal symptoms, constipation, drowsiness, mood changes, and in some cases, serious long term health damage.
What’s the alternative to being on codeine for decades?
A proper review, access to physical therapy, rehab if needed, lifestyle changes, and non-addictive pain management strategies like targeted exercise, nutrition, and mind-body techniques.
Why was Coproxamol withdrawn?
Because even small overdoses could be fatal. It was officially withdrawn in the UK in 2005.
How did you finally stop?
Cold turkey from alcohol and codeine, supported by daily breathwork, nutrient-dense eating, gentle movement, and mindset rewiring.
If You’re Stuck in It Now
Start small. Question every prescription. Demand reviews. Don’t wait for the system to fix you, it won’t. Seek out people who’ve been where you are and made it out. Educate yourself, look for alternative pain management approaches, and take back ownership of your health.
There’s another way. I’m living proof that you can come back from decades of sedation and live a life that’s yours again.
