Today I have thought about using heroin. A lot. I guess I could consider it a feat that I am sitting here on a Saturday night writing about it, as opposed to shooting it into my vein. My shrink told me on Friday that I should practice feeling all of my feelings, and all the scenarios that come to my thoughts instead of bottling them up inside. So let me attempt to do surgery on my wayward brain.
I haven't thought so much as how to get heroin, or let myself get to the point of feening like I used to. I would describe it more as fleeting thoughts about the 'feeling' that it gives me. For instance. I look down and see my veins coming back into my skin. I immediately associate that with a place to put my syringe, and then I think momentarily of the feeling that comes after that shot. Or better put- the lack of feeling. The ability that heroin gives me to block out the pain that has come flooding relentlessly back into my heart since I have been sober.
My daughter. How I miss her. How I miss everything about her. How I think if the pain I put her through by not fighting for her. Then comes the anger. To the people who have made it uncomfortably painful for us to communicate lately. How I want to talk to her and see her everyday. but somehow in their brains- feeble close minded righteous brains in my opinion- it has been better for her to have no mother at all than to have me.
I flashback to the courtroom where I lost her. I replay the lies of her father. The lies of her Grandmother. The lies of the government appointed child welfare people who barely knew any of us. I can't take it back, but if I use again I can't ever get her back.
I think of my son. Whom I haven't spoken to in years until about 6 weeks ago. I think of how I miss him. How I wish I could get both of them to understand what 'really' happened. Hindsight right?
I think of my fiance. My savior. My rock. the man who literally, physically, and mentally lifted me from the trenches when I was drowning. Who helped me back onto the ground and then carried me until I could stand on my own two feet again. How that everyday he makes it a point to make me smile. For no reason except that he loves me. I have never had that before. I think about how much I love him, and the life I have with him.. The future I dream about having with him.
I think about the days I used. Lets refer to them as the dark days. Where
I did, saw, and felt things so horrendous I can't even put them into words. Not even on paper. The darkest days of my life.
I think of all of these things and I beg for my thoughts to go somewhere besides that feeling that heroin gave me. I sit and stare into space hoping thatI won't succumb to it's trickery ever again. If I ever had a chance to alter the course of my life permanently; it's now.
I'm set up in a position for my dreams to come true, and to dream new things that I could never fathom with a needle in my arm. those days I dreamed of dying- of falling asleep and never waking up. As I bring this to an end I can genuinely say that it feels like freedom. To be able to be a walking example that someone can overcome something as deadly as heroin.
I have already beaten it. I won. I guess it's up to me to hold onto my victory. Fear invades my brain once again after that thought. However I think that fear might only be an illusion. An illusion that can be snuffed out with greater things.
