Victories-Come in Many Shapes & Sizes

Life issues can come at us from different perspectives, no matter what they are. For example, I won $10 on a $2 Lottery ticket. I only won $10 vs. I have $8 more than I did a few minutes ago. 

I have been to rehab 3 times since July 2015. Left early all 3 times and regretted it the second I hit the door.

Here is that word again.  FEAR.

Wow, I went to rehab 3 times this year. That's 3 more than last year, I even got 6 weeks off dope outta rehab.

Victories. 

Please reach out if u are in pain. If not to this blog- to someone. Somebody DOES CARE!!!

Backtracking an update

The Long gap in the time frames between my posts were present because of my relapses. Writing was something I was able to do for the year or so that I was off the wagon due to my  conciouss effort to journal what was taking place during my using days. Even though I did not publish my thoughts, I did my best to record them frequently. I decided long before the relapse that should I ever use in the future I wanted to be able to reflect on what was going on in my mind, and in my everyday life. I knew I could always type them up and publish them in my future. However if I did not write anything, I woulld certainly not look back, and my memory is certainly not up to par when I fry it daily.

That relapse was May 2014. Since then so mch has happened. Wanna know what?


Rehabs, Rehabs, A-walling, fear, rehabs, boys, unconditional love from mt father.

And the man. Who stole my heart and won't give up.

Next blog...about a boy... will tell this story.

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. 

Heroin Won't Give Up- So We Can't Either (written in 2015)

Coming off of opiates for what seems like the ump-teenth million time is still MENTALLY as hard as the 1st attempt.  It's a tricky thing how it rapes you of any mental stability including good decision making. My thought is that the mental addiction parallels to the intensity of pleasure during our high, and our ability  to block out anything we don't wanna deal with.

The deeper our pain- the better the high - the worse our addiction.

 After my children were taken from me, I remember thinking why get up in the morning? What is the point of grocery shopping, cleaning, working, smiling, living? You get the point.It became easy to use cocaine again. I swore off trying heroin for 33 years of my life because I knew what vicodin, oxys, and other opiates did for me. My fear of crossing that line was because I knew that I was barely ok on the pills. Heroin did everything I imagined multiplied a thousand times!   My addiction quickly gave me the gift of 'eff it'. I was able to think about nothing else. (I wrote about my first experience with heroin in Shot in the Dark Right at My Throat post)

That was exactly what I wanted. I did not know how to even begin to face coping with the pain of my children being gone. So I bailed on life playing russian roulette with my entire existence. Russian Roulette with heroin doesn't last long before becoming an entirely different human being and that's if we are fortunate enough not to end up dead. Heroin will always win as long as we join in the game. Hell it wins with some of us who try to surrender! 

After stringing together some pretty crappy days resulting in a long list of self doubts and reasons I won't make it on the sober track, I finally get it. It's still part of the trap! All my negative thoughts and fear of failure. My inability to cope rationally with small things. Drugs are still trying to tighten the nuice around my neck. I can't let it. 

Hearing support and hope from addicts similar me helps. They prove to me it's possible to do what feels impossible.

I am not sure that my day today is any easier, but my brain knows these other addicts are proof that a good life is possible, and that helps me to hold on another day. 

I read an article about ex-junkies and what they had to say about Phillip Seymour Hoffman dying of an overdose after 23 years clean from heroin. It comes from this link if you wanna read it: http://www.alternet.org/drugs/37-quotes-heroin-users-addiction-and-struggle-stay-sober

I chose a few to share...

"When I first gave up heroin, I could never tell myself it was forever..."

"I live in real fear that I'll relapse..."

"No one sets out to be a heroin addict. It's not a lifestyle choice..."

"If you are an addict you are either using, clean or dead. There is nothing in between..."

"Every single time I relapse, my life spins out of control..."

"I wish people would understand that addiction is a symptom..."

"The 'War On Drugs' has been a dismal failure..."

"Once addicted, your life then becomes a dedication to your addiction..."

"The feeling is almost impossible to explain to someone who has never done an opiate..."

"Heroin encases you in a little cotton-wool house and nothing hurts anymore..."

"Sometimes I think I would like to shoot up water just to experience the whole ceremony surrounding the event..."

"Whenever I hear of a celebrity drug death, especially when it relates to smack (heroin), often the first thing that comes to mind is the hypocrisy which surrounds drugs and junkies..."

Each and every one of those statements stirred up things inside me. I understand all too well what they are thinking. The difference is that next to their names were lengths of sober time. It initially made me sad that after years of being clean the monster can poke...and then I realized what great insight that is. Tangible hope for us who are in early recovery, and those who want to recover. By speaking out they give purpose to their past... I think that is awesome!

History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new. Ecclesiastes 1:9 NLT

I so happened to stumble on to that scripture today. Think about it, our stories may be unique- but I highly doubt my Higher Power is scratching his head wondering how he's gonna help me outta this one! My job is to not give up!

To quote a fellow addict's advice to me earlier today: Instead of giving the race up you need to just keep on putting one foot in front of the other. The rest will get sorted out.

Peace. J

Vent Don't Use: Addicts Helping Addicts

I posted this on http://suboxonestopping.blogspot.com as well. It is important to me that one person who is hopeless and alone might benefit from seeing that they can reach out. It is worth the post if even one  person reaches out for help. I am only one person, and I lived through many nights where I was lucky to see the next morning. Seeing hope may have made a difference..? 


One of the things I dislike about myself is that when the going gets tough, I lose all motivation & stop doing the things I love. 
This was a hard weekend. I could barely bring myself to move let alone write... Boo Hoo right? 
 I will be the first to say I'll never change unless I CHANGE!

I mustered up the effort to post my feelings on an incredible recovery forum I've been a part of. My post for day 33 will simply be the content from that thread. 

Hope you enjoy!

ME: I am at the tail end of my Suboxone detox. Prolly only have a few days left.
I find on this Saturday night instead of leg cramps, depression and nausea, I'd prefer a needle or a pipe. No discrimination..I'll take whatever I can find. 

This is my attempt to start changing my dirty habits. 

I find that when I relapse it usually happens like this:

-have the thought of getting high
-obsess on it
-glorify it until I convince myself
-refuse to think of anything else except how to score until I do it

So, I know that in posting here I am forced to type it out which requires thinking about the millions of bad things instead of the one good thing. (the glorified 5 second good thing.)

For me, H has been the most difficult to put behind me. Thanks for letting mw vent. I think deep down I don't really want to.

Comment 1: No, DEEP down, You DON'T want to - it's just that crazy old mind song playing in the head again. But it's NOT you - can you see it play ? There's you watching it , hearing it, there's You and the old song playing- they're separate. Stay with the REAL you - find the quiet within, even for for a few seconds here and a few seconds there. Step out of the mind and find that quiet "space "within- rest there . Be at ease, breath.... It'll pass. Trust.

Comment 2: Type more than a couple paragraphs. Type out the whole story of your past using days. Do it in OneNote or somewhere if you don't want it online. You've got to remember how bad it really was instead of falling into the circular seeking behavior.

Comment 3:
Deep down you don't really want to


That's not you talking ........


Comment 4: I am glad you posted this. My thought process was pretty much the exact same, but I never actually wrote it out. It is great that you have identified it so you can do something about it. How do you plan to battle the cravings and to stop it before it gets to number 4 on your list?

Comment 5: How about interrupt it at #1 ? It is the thought of using which is the signal to intervene. What are you feeling just before those thoughts come ? Are you feeling overwhelmed by something in your current situation ? Are you feeling trapped in some way ? Or helpless? I read that addiction is only a symptom of an unlying feeling of powerlessness/trapped helplessness and for long-term soberity to stick, you need to identify the real issues driving the need to escape. Do you feel any of these emotions,friend ? If so, what can you change to lessen those feelings? What empowering action(s) can you take?


My Response: - I am really scared of screwing up again is at the root of it. Been 12 or more years without going a week clean.. I always get sober and relapse. Some minutes I feel great like I can do it this time, next minute I am like wtf why am I trying. 

I rented pay per per view and watched Netflix all night.. since I am sleeping little to none right now.. Stayed clean.


Comment 6: That's SO awesome - you rode it out and it passed !!! You should pat yourself on the bat - or at least do it for me ! Just take it one day at a time - that's enough. Don't worry about tomorrow - you never have to handle more than today. Forget the rest and when the mind story gets going , catch it and stop it. Keep reminding your mind that today is enough and try to see if you can find some ease in just staying present . It's a real challenge, I know, but it's a challenge that will help you on so many levels. And the more clean days you stack, the easier it'll be to do this and other other positive things. Just keep it simple - today is all you need to take care of. Keep moving forward,, Lady - you passed yesterday's test - you can pass today's!


To be honest, I have been lonely as hell during the last 2 years of using, and the longer I try to get sober the lonelier I get. I can imagine hell should be so isolating. I could count on one hand the people interested in what's up with me- and there was a day I had more friends than I knew what to do with. That's another topic though...hard for people to wanna be friends with a junkie loser.

Last night- those complete junkie and ex-junkie STRANGERS gave a crap enough to give me those no BS replies. I did not expect a response at all. I figured people would glance and roll through. 

Amazing that in the world we live in where junkies are trash and the sober people are 'good', that an addict cares enough to rise up and help a total stranger day after day! It's amazing. It was amazing not to feel alone when I logged on and saw that people cared if I never logged on again...

Locked Inside Pain

Some days sobriety seems so far away, so unachievable, that anything else looks more favorable.

The long dark nights in the hood. Alone. Cold. Dope sick. Broke. There is no accountability anymore. You have already deserted your life, so dying isn't a scary feeling. No eyes to look into of loved ones who hold out their most desperate prayer that you will magically change. 

Jail is one of the single worst places I have lived. Weeks of my life in a room with other hopeless women. Everyone I met in jail felt hopeless, even on their best day. Not even the biggest smile could mask the pain in the sad eyes around me. The toughest fighter bled shame through her scowl. Yet somehow jail feels like an answer. I think it only means I won't have to make the choice. Relapse will not be an option while those walls stand high around me. 

I read this earlier today from an anonymous poster on a blog:

being a heroin addict is UNFORGIVABLE, how stupid can these people be. This is something you never never try if you have any brains, and is therefor not a forgivable addiction. It just indicates you are a weak non thinking ass.

I can't help but feel pain when I read that statement. I think that the majority of people feel that way. Even the people who don't admit it, and who don't want to. I wish I could put into words this evening the pain I feel knowing that I am an addict. Knowing it's my own fault that I have been stuck in the opiate trap.  

James 1 tells me to persevere and find joy in my trials. Quite honestly that has been my MO. Knowing that it is ALWAYS darkest before the dawn. 

I will let that be my hope again this evening. Tomorrow I will deal with these feelings again. With a new day, and hopefully a new perspective.

 

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!

It's Not That Simple

Drug addiction is not a simple problem. We are a world that stereotypes. It's easy to group certain types of people into a box. We can toss drug addicts together in a population of bad people who only care about themselves. How could a we shoot heroin, smoke crack, drop acid, if we loved our family? If we cared about our friends why would we do that to them. Do we not care enough about our own children enough to stay clean?

These are all questions I have been asked. I have been publicly accused of caring about nothing but myself and my next fix. Sometimes the rage that cranks through my body when I hear words such as those targeted at me enrage me to the point where I must choose to say nothing in defense of myself. For if I respond in any other way I might lose full control of myself. Consequently, that brands me even more selfish. Now I flat out don't give a damn enough to even justify an answer.

Here is my question. How on earth is that fact that these drug addicts are actual. real people escaping the minds of the perfect? When asked in Elementary School what I wanted to be when I grew up, I did not say, "A Junkie!"

I had no idea I was headed down that road. My very first 'addictive' behavior was a simple act of defiance against my mother. She herself was in so much pain that she drank into a stupor night after night. Telling me I was worthless. I'd never amount to anything. I looked like a whore. (at 11 years old) I hurt so badly, all day every day, that I could barely breathe sometimes. 

So lighting up a cigarette at 14 while she was passed out downstairs seemed like a way to channel the hurt. All I wanted was to feel. To feel loved. To NOT feel lonely. To make my mother happy. Which as a child I had no idea that was impossible. She didn't not lash out at me because I did anything wrong. If only I had known that then. She DID love me. She DIDNT mean those things. She herself was in PaiN. Would I be different? I love her so much, would I have made her proud?

Would I have gone down the same roads year after year? Hurting then numbing then guilt then hurt myself more to extinguish the guilt? Rinse and repeat. Worse every time. 

I am not the only person like this. Every. Single. Addict. Has. A. Story. A story filled with pain and suffering. I'd bet my life that most of us wanted better for ourselves. By the time we were old enough to understand what was happening, our destructive paths were already well on there ways.

Are you this person? Is someone you love this person? Do you need to understand someone like this? Please follow my blog on the right. Subscribe. Follow me on Google. Shoot me an email and comment. I want something good to come from my past, pain, and stories. I want something GREAT to come out of my recovery. 

The Obsession with Obessioning

I remember over a decade ago when my first thought as I woke was a pain pill. Followed by thoughts of how to take less that day. More thoughts of how to prolong that first pill. Obsessing over every aspect of using, and not using. 

It was less than a week into my first shot of Heroin in which my first awakening thought questioned how I would get high. Where would the money come from today? How about the gas? All the plotting and planning to stay even. Only to go rock that score and start the planning over again. 

Mindless and endless hours of obsession. 

This is what I refer to as the opiate trap.

Today I find myself waking up to question how many suboxone do I have left? I am running low. How can I make that one last? Should I order more from the pharmacy? Maybe today is my last day? Thoughts dive straight into fear. Will I get dope sick?! 

And slowly my mind tells my brain to shut down so I can focus on my actual day. 

When there are no more drugs to take, no more pills for withdrawal, no more schedules or tapers, what will my mind obsess on my first waking thought of the daylight?

Shot in the Dark & Right at My Throat

OMG. I'm F*@ked.

The first words out of my mouth. I will never forget those moments. The hours, days,  and weeks before are all a blur. However, nothing will ever erase the clarity of those few moments.

I can vividly recall the smells. The temperature of my body. The bodies around me. No faces, only bodies. The sharpness of the point. The fear. The pressure in my eyelids as I scrunched them closed in anticipation. That feeling. Oh that feeling. I told them I should never do it. I told them. They said I'd be okay. I knew better. I told them I KNEW if I did it- I'd love it. I. HAD. NO. IDEA. My expectations of the euphoria truly underestimated the level of ecstasy that traveled slowly through the vessels inside of me. At each turn feeling the devil penetrate a new level of pleasure I had never known. Not even in my wildest dreams.

See, I can only illustrate the story from my own point of view. When you spend the majority of your life in emotional pain that you yourself can't understand, physical euphoria can be a tricky vice to shake. The physical nature of heroin is so powerful, that it extends far beyond what the mind can handle. It grabs your mind in it's claws. Clenches it with a grip so tight, that the only thing you can see clearly is that you might not pry through the fingers of the iron fist alive. You know it's a trap. All of these feelings running rampant in my brain in less than 2 minutes of the experience.

Heroin addicts.  Many labels are attributed to 'these kind of people'. None of which are positive. I would venture to guess that most heroin addicts are...or were... good people before that first hit. This next statement may only make sense to 'them'. When the first hit of heroin pierces the body, you are fully aware of the stigmata. At that moment you become fully aware of the power of something truly evil. As a small being bouncing around the inside of the iron fist, you try to jump out. You want to, but the euphoria sucks you back in like a vacuum. In attempt to combat the judgement passed on you, it's easier to actively seek out a life that reflects that judgement.

Here lies the problem. Euphoria. Judgement. Addiction. Suffocation. Morality. Choice. Betrayal. Dishonesty. Entrapment. Good. Evil. Darkness overcoming the light with it's giant shadow. 

I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to share it. I am terrified. It eats away at me month after month.  I need to allow these thoughts to live as something other than a nightmare held captive in my brain. Maybe in attempt to relate to someone else in pain? Not that anyone will ever see it... but maybe they will. Maybe you saw it. I figure I have already lost everything. They already have their opinion of who I am and what I have done. So what do I have to lose?