Little Magic Pill

I found myself asking the questions that I have asked for years, how do people quit?  What is the key? Is there a little magic pill?

Finally a new answer came to light in my perplexed and overwhelmed dope fried brain. 3%. 5%. Less than 10%. These are figures in the past decade representing the people who have successfully kicked their heroin habit. The answer to my question was this: there is no magic pill! No one recovers. Well, 3%-10% recover, and to me that is about as close to no one as a statistic can get. If there was a way, I think it would be published. In fact, Methadone and now Suboxone are posing as what I believe to be answers to these questions. Since the recovery rate is so low, these medications have been developed as the next thing to try. Yes, the addict is still dependent on an opiate (a synthetic opiate if we are referring to Suboxone) but the needle has been put down and heroin is no longer the addiction to deal with.

Does this mean that  Suboxone using ex-heroin addicts are included in the recovery statistic, or in the 'still using' statistic.

My battle/ love affair with opiates has lasted well over a decade at this point.  Long enough to experience the ups and downs of the addiction many times over. Yesterday I read a blog post written by an ex-junkie who claimed that if an addict does not ever gets sober it is because they want to be an addict.  OUCH. That one stung, probably more so than most because it came from an ex-junkie. I immediately jumped on the defensive and thought to myself, "He must be too far removed from using--he forgets where he came from." I didn't even want to read what he said. 

I am glad that I changed my mind and read his post. Although I still hold to my initial judgement that he is far removed from active addiction, I believe his post holds merit. Whether I like his opinion or not, he is in a stage of life that every ex-junkie will hopefully make it to. 10 years clean. To a degree, I agree. Each individual must WANT to live a clean life. I do not however agree that junkies who never recover stay junkies because they want to. 

There is just so so much more involved in recovery. 

While there is yet to be a 'little magic pill', there are indeed recovered heroin addicts to model that recovery IS possible. I know that through my journey I plan to be in the 3%-5% of recovered heroin users. In documenting my journey there may be bits and pieces of a 'magic pill' that someone else can benefit from.  

If anyone stumbles upon a successful magic pill for heroin addicts...please do share. ;)

~J

Manhunt understanding fear.

Here I come to another time line. By Friday I'll be dope free. New motives. New relationships. Perhaps a new improved approach.

As I sit outside my bedroom window; grasping my sweaty cigarette I begin the desperate manhunt! Tips to beat the depression is what set  this hunt in motion.

My fear of being unable to fight the depression without the fickle comfort of my loaded syringe. Fear.. Fear. Fear.

Fear is something I speak of often. I believe with all certainty that fear resides as the obstacle I've yet to overcome. Recognizing, understanding, and my fears will indeed b the last step before my full recovery begins.

Functional Junkie

Is it possible to be a functional junkie? I'd venture to say that while a junkie might muster up some sort of half witted functionality, it wouldn't stick.

On pills I could function. The madness showed up when my supply started to run low. Panic sets in before that actually happens,and for me, by the time I scrambled up a way to fund and score my pills; panic, guilt, and shame recycled through my body more than once. I'd be a wreck by the time I popped that little savior, and boy did that make the annihilation of the nasty, dope sick that had been emerging even that much sweeter. Trapped.

My last relapse was different. I can systematically list out the steps I took to get to relapse and the everyday things that were changing in me which ultimately led to what I believe was my demise. Many of my downward spiraling steps came from my degenerating thoughts about myself and my life, but there were things I know people around me could see. Unfortunately between myself and the people around me lie a disconnect wide enough that I'd crumble to bits in less than a year.

In essence I am only trying to say that in my opinion heroin addiction cannot live simultaneous with being functional in society. One's world becomes only about heroin. The physical need continuously rises, the financial burden steadily heavies, and the emotional turmoil gets out of control. 

Having said that, I think it is the only drug that I have not been able to function on. At least on a level; at which no one suspected I used. 

Junkie Say:Junkie Who? Middle Aged Women Using Dangerous street Drugs.

If someone tells you that women in their 20's, 30's & 40's including middle class married mothers, are at the top of the list for black tar heroin users, would you believe it?

Personally, that doesn't make much sense at first. So why give that statement much thought? Well, I can tell you firsthand that I am a mother in her 30's. I had never done BTH in my 20's or teens. Honestly, I do not have much experience even being around it. I know people who did and that was the extent of my relationship to the subject.

So why would I be surprised that my relapse after years of sobriety took place when I was doing some contract work at a clients house. A woman; an ex-model, married to an NFL player, in her 40's or 50's with children, a nice home, money, cars, and lots of friends. From the outside looking in she lived every woman's dream. A great life and didn't have to work if she chose not to. Of all of the places in all of the world I told myself to stay away from, this was nowhere near on the list.

I simply ran a small business so I could spend more time with my own children. Thrilled to work for a new client, I didn't put any red flags up at the situation. No need for my anti-drug radar to signal. Relapse was the furthest thing from my mind.

I received an invite from this client for  cocktails at one of her girlfriends houses on a nice patio by a pool. This Friday night sounded perfect for the single Mom who needed a little something new to spice her dad to day up a little. The friend whose house we gathered at shared most of the characteristics in her life as my client.

A third woman, a 49 year old also joined us. She married a lawyer and had a great teenage son. From the outside she had it all!

I was enjoying myself and not expecting what came up within the first 10 minutes. Two of the women started doing lines of coke, and the 3rd went to the bathroom for what seemed like the whole night. Later I find out she is shooting up tar. This was the night of my relapse. I hadn't planned it, didn't see it coming, and did not say no. 

The 4 of us look like the women you see at Whole Foods, the Country Club, any number of 'normal' everyday activities that 'happy' women are found. 

It was the next day I started questioning how many happy people were doing serious narcotics on a daily basis. the answer to my question was clear as the next few weeks passed. ALOT, and most were women, although I saw many men in suits and ties with a needle. 

This clearly contradicts with the things we hear about people who do cocaine, heroin, and other drugs. We hear junkie, and think of the poor person scrambling through garbage cans. Teenagers and party animals in their 20's. 

Maybe this is the first thing wrong with stomping out the drug problem? One of my doctors has told me that the rise of women in their 30's and 40's that IV heroin are taking over like a tidal wave. I don't hear much about this through media, but I see it in waiting room, meetings, rehabs, and most importantly on the streets where junkies buy. 

Why is this? How can we explain the lack of info on this specific type of drug user? My first reaction is that women of this age are compiled with a ton of stress, conditioned to handle it without complaint, and scared to admit it for fear of judgement. 

Any thoughts or knowledge on this topic?

The Opiate Trap in Full Effect!

Today the reality of what the opiate trap is all about weighed hard on my willpower. The hatred for the rope that tightens firmly around my neck. Longing for the relief it provides. The death of  physical and emotional pain. 

I force myself to remember the times I was stuck on the street. Desperate to score hour after hour. the sad lonely ache that never left me. I am truly feeling for the addicts out there tonight. I am thinking about them, and hoping for their safety, peace, and that they might find way out of the trap. 

A reminder to share this blog with a loved one or through social media to help reach the addicts who need a first step!

The Monster.

The one inside my brain that tells me to 'eff' it all. That no matter how hard I try, I'll never be sober. Never stay sober. That it is only a matter of time until I choose to blow my mind up with narcotics. 
That first hit on the crack pipe. The first shot. The one that tells you you want more. It's a liar. It's a monster. The beginning of the destruction of the dreams in your heart. The demise of the willpower to accomplish anything beyond getting high. 
The monster talks to me still. I am trying to kill it, trying to wipe it's influence from my existence. My greatest fear is that the monster, at best, will only stay sleeping. That as many days or years that I might win sobriety, I will always be one step away from using again. 

Somehow for today, I know that I need to ignore it. I will turn from the desire, and use the things I am learning to get me until tomorrow. I know this will quiet it to a degree. As it sits quietly in my thoughts, I can still feel it stir, wanting to find new ways to win me over again. 

When CPS takes your family

All I can think about are my children. When CPS took them from me, I lost my will to get up. It's bad enough to have CPS knocking at your door for bogus charges from a jealous ex, but how long can you blame someone else?

When I say lost my will to get up- I mean I physically had trouble moving my body parts. They were my life. My smiles. My family.

They cried when CPS took them. A CPS worker got a judge to sign a warrant for their removal after he came to my house and saw an air-conditioning valve that he claimed was a drug pipe.

Of course this got straightened out in court, but by then it was too late. I had ruined us. I had that first hit and it kept me from the pain of losing my kids. So when that spiraled outta control they were able to keep them from me forever.

My one and only hope in this world is that freedom from opiates will get me my kids back. Even against impossible odds. CPS said that heroin users are hopeless- unable to be recovered.

And they won.

How Did I Get This Way?

Rewind a few decades. One does not become a junkie overnight. By junkie, I mean a lifestyle. A lifestyle associated with the numbing of pain by using any means necessary. 

For a long time I tried to blame my drug addiction on anything but me. My parents divorce, childhood trauma, nobody likes me, a poor girl in a rich city, the junkie baby daddy- you name it. The fact of the matter is that all those aspects of my life contributed to me becoming a junkie. When it comes down to it we all write our own story. What we as ourselves do willingly is considered our choice. Our choices all combined over time write our story. Nobody forced me to numb my pain the way I chose to numb my pain. Sadly I don't always feel as though I had a choice, or a support system, but I did choose. 

At age 16. Drinking all day at school and on my lunch breaks. I'd drink and puke. I would force myself to throw up. Bulimia. My first attempt to alleviate my pain. Almost as if the purging itself would purge my emotion. 

I quickly learned that not only did making myself vomit not alleviate the pain, but it made it worse. (duh) 

One of the hardest things I believe that we can face in life is the realization that we have severely screwed up by our own choice. By our own free will. It's a catch-22. Once you admit (to yourself) that you chose this, you want to block that realization out as well. 

and so it began....