Sometimes we are brats

Eye
In the eye of te storm.
This morning I woke up very early. My weekend of slumber decided to kick me back out into the real world again. I'm not mad at it though. In fact I am happpy that it possibly means I will fall asleep before 5am, and I can begin cycling back onto a semi normal schedule.
As usual over the last week, my attitude sucked from the moment I opened my eyes. 

It is an irritating situation when you are such a grouch that you don't even want to deal with your own self.

On the bright side, once you get to that point of utter stagnancy and annoyance, making a bold move seems more favorable than continuing along the road of blah.
I am not sure if it was luck or chance or fate... you can call it what you want, but a necasary turning point took place for me today.

 My personal belief is that people have been praying for me on the many days I haven't been able to believe I am worth praying for myself. I woke up at an early 6:30am.

I planted myself on the carpet in my den and switched on the TV. What do ya know, the first thing that I hear on the channel happens to be an exact replica of what I am NOT doing right in my life. If I wanted to be cliche and genericly untrue I could say that this surprised me, but in fact it is quite the opposite. I find the world is made up of all sorts of things that I cannot understand but somehow bring harmony and existence together in a way that 'fits' ito our individual paths.

Simply put- we are given signs and secrets to help us navigate our future in a positive way. However we might not position ourselves in a way that we can accept or even hear what is loudly being projected right in front of us.
Thank God for those times that we are!
If things in life were happening exactly the way that we wanted, everything lined up, financial burdens at ease, and relationships operating along in great way, how would I be acting today?

Would I wake up in a state of anger? Barely pulling my tired body out of bed. Exerting almost all of my energy into erasing the permanent scowl morphed onto my face?
Most likely I'd bounce up cheerfully and excited for the day. What trials and tribulations can I not conquer if things are how I want them?
Why need faith on those days? I'd be sailing along with ease.

Here are the next things that came out of that TV and into my brain.

If I can learn how to do the right thing while I am hurting, then no devil in hell that can keep me from the palace. I have to learn to do what is right while I am hurting. To do what is right when right things are not happening to me.
When I hurt I need to do what I'd do if everything in my life was going exactly the way I want it to.

When I am hurting I need to act how I would if I was not hurting at all.

When I am really hurting it takes alot of discipline to do what is right.
Self control means we control ourself.

Excuse: I can't help it! YES I CAN!
Pain can rule my behavior.

Wow. Talk about preaching to the choir!
Here is an outline of what I got from the show I watched.

1. When I am hurting do not counter attack and go wild.
~gonna do anything I wanna do
~gonna eat what I want
~gonna buy whatever I want
? How is that gonna get the get me to where I want?
2. Do not withdrawal, isolate,q sulk, have a pity party. Sit around and get depressed.
I can be pitiful and powerful but I can't be both at the same time.
Someone else on this planet is hurting worse than me. (wow)
3. do not believe the lie that God is punishing me for something I have done in the past.
Not the biz that God is in

God remembers our sin no more when we ask for forgiveness.
It is a lie to say I cant get over my wrongs
4. do not blame God and get mad at him.
My disappointments come from me not getting what I want.
5. when i am hurting do not give up and think I have no way out.
6. do not passivly accept injustice- fight it
when i am in the middle hurting sooo bad i need to do all the good i can do for as many peole as i can as often as i can.

This is the best strategy to move forward!
Overcome evil with good.!!!!!

I am not gonna win with a bad attitude r hating everyone...being jealous...
Trust that my life can be good.
work good out of bad things
7. when i am hurting, keep my commitments. keep my word. do what i tell people i would do. I will in no way break my commitment.

Do i wanna be one of those people who does not keep commitments.

Honor.
Get honor back.

What is honor.
Do what is right b/c it is right.
Be a person of my word!!!!!!
Hang on to my integrity- it is in these times that build character
If I am hurting so bad i can't stand it and i keep my commitments .

I AM GROWING SPIRITUALY AND AFTER TODAY I AM ONE DAY CLOSER TO MY DREAMS.
I CANT GET FROM THE PIT TO THE PALACE WITHOUT GOING THRU THE MIDDLE.
HOW AM I GONNA ACT IN THE MIDDLE? (I haven't been doing great so far)
HOW I ACT IN THE MIDDLE PARTIALLY DETERMINES HOW I WILL GET THERE. and how fast!

anyone can do whats right when things are good, not many people can do whats right when things are horrible.
Bad days are ok but for the most part who do i wanna be?
I know that it has been hard to stay in a bad attitude since I have been mulling over these perspectives. Needless to say, today was a better day, and I believe I will have better days ahead.
~J

Letting Cravings Draw on Strength- or Weakness

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.  

Hope VS. Fear---Is Fear stronger?

Poll On right!  Please comment w/ answer 5. Feel free to comment on ANY opinion!

Babies w/no choice

In rehab I met a woman 9 months pregnant. A heroin user. I always wondered if the baby (she lost to CPS?) would be ok. 

I'd love resources or advice. Could her baby survive a healthy life?? She always said if only I quit sooner he'd be healthy. Is that true? 

This subject has been brought up lot to me and I have no answers. Is a pregnant user going to have a damaged hurting baby no matter what? Does the trimester matter?

Peace-J

If you pray, please do so for her and her son. Thanks!

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.

2 sides to every story. (And sometimes more)

First off, I'd like to clarify the importance I hold in blogging these little details. I try to be candid and genuine about the good and the bad. Recognizing the bad opens up my eyes to reasons I may have relapsed in the past. I am able to sort out my strengths and weaknesses. 

Addiction is a dirty, sneaky, tricky lil demon who will continue to tell you that you will fail until you shut him up! 

So I post the negative things as self awareness and in hope that you who may wanna tackle opiate detox one day may come across something you might not have thought of. 

In my experience, the knowledge, stories, and advice I have recieved from other addicts have helped me far beyond most of the professional help I have sought. b 

Anyways, back to day 

Never Stop Fighting! Please!

A Saturday phone call to my Mother enlisted a reminder of some of the last words my daughter spoke to me as she was being ripped from my arms by CPS.  

"Mommy, please never never stop fighting for me!, she wailed through her sniffles..arms extended, and nothing I could do. They showed me a warrant...


How a suppressed memory like this can pierce my heart. After so much time....

Somehow we know we can never stop fighting. 

Functional Junkie: Revisited

In my post preceding this post called functional junkie, I gave my perspective and opinion as to whether or not a junkie can ever 'really' function while using. I thought I would come and re-write my perspective. It's been a while since I read that post, and I want to put out my thoughts in this secondary post so that I can compare the two and see if there are any similarities or differences in my opinion. 

I do not believe that it is possible to function normally on heroin, ever. Granted, I can only speak from the perspective of a heroin user who's first time included a needle. Having said that, I do not know how different it would have been for me had I snorted or smoked it before ever IV'ing. That is simply a viewpoint I will never have. 

I do believe that when I took pain pills I cold function in everyday life. Meaning I could hold a job, make appointments on time, and was able to accept and fulfill obligations during my pill popping days. So as far as my day to day activity I could operate. However, it was when the dope sickness began to set in, the bank account began to run low, the dealers were all unreachable, or the timing was so that my children would not be any school anymore and I had yet to score for the day. Those situations which were a direct result of my drug abuse, effected my day to day life. It stunted my ability to cope and function.

 To put it simply, I'd be impaired to do anything except score my pills until I scored them. Nothing preceded that. No obligation, job, phone call, appointment, meal needing cooked would come before my fix. Once I bought my pills and the effect started to kick in, life could resume. I did not however like to face any stressful situations that I may have caused due to my obsession with scoring. In most cases I would blatantly avoid any confrontation. Yet another way that the dope (pills) effected my normal functioning. 

 An individual might start out with an ability to function relatively normally from day to day. As a habit worsens, the inevitable happens, and daily life starts to spiral out of control. In my opinion, it IS possible for some people to somewhat function for a short amount of time, but I believe that it is impossible to maintain a healthy lifestyle until one is clean and sober. 

As drug addicts we know that most of who we are and what we do during those treacherous years of drug abuse is a fabricated lie that usually is posed to cover up another fabricated lie. Who are we kidding? The lifestyle of a drug addict boils down to nothing but a facade.  

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

Which will kill me first? Loneliness or insomnia?

Let me begin by stressing I hate cliches. We r not cloned robots... however... I put o e. ;)

So....will insomnia or loneliness kill me first before this heroin withdrawing ends?

I say neither cuz I swear I'll beat this mother fuckeR this time.

I have something waiting for my healing. We all do.

I'm relatively sure that the experiences I've had in this short 3 to 4 years isn't for nothing. Cuz every smack junkie I've spoken with has never come close to the Rocky road I've traveled.

Why why why me.?

If there's a God I beg for undeserving mercy.

But on the other hand,thanks for the mad props. God u must think my Influence is capable...

So no matter what I'll never turn my back on a H junkie. Regardless if I ever put the needle down.

I hope when I'm 90 the heroin recovery rTe goes from 3%to75%

Smacksomnia

As shitty as it is not sleeping coming off dope, it's the least hard of them all.'them all' meaning all other attempts. 

Here's y:

1 my man 
2 my man
3down to 20
4 valium
5 my man
6xanax
7 adderrall
8 my man
9 hope in the form of my son. 
10 hope in the form of my daughter

I FUCKING HATE DOPE SICKNESS! BUT THIS IS IT. MY GUT TELLS ME I'M DONE NOW. Like really done. 

I know I haven't written about it, but I met an amazing man. A real man. I told him it's like Pretty Woman middle class ;)....

Not alot of junkies get this chance. 

What I really need is two valium a 12 ,minute walk and to F*** my man something epic.--- after all he has endured a LOT w me.

I really would like to encourage comments on this post. Those of u who have made it outta the trap, or anyone who cares enough to hot a little word. 

Please feel free in your comments to request something from me in return.I'm more than willing.

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. 

This and That WTF?! The Sobriety Trap

WTF stands the choice phrase I use for almost any and everything. Cuz most of the time I just don't fucking get it. I feel like such an odd one out most places. I can't tell you how many hours a day I spend wondering why the fuck I was made an oddball, and a heroin addict. With a fucking IQ of a hundred zillion. I mean.... WTF???! 


One of the most exhausting aspects of the 'sobriety trap' (as I painfully mock it) is the perpetual back and forth between sober days and using days. Lying to myself as I carefully prepare my needle just so. I confidently tell myself, this will be the last time. I know that I can wean down after this shot...and the withdrawals won't be so bad.  Too bad this goal planning  was birthed after my most recent bump...less than five minutes ago.  Now through my optimistic, opiate induced haze, I am ready to rock the world!

When memory serves only as a precursor for the positive aspects of a truly negative situation              when you know that you will most likely be enduring the agonizing sickness sitting before you at the very moment. My brain feels tangled up in a fat, tight, wadded mess.  


Do I not understand what a 3% success recovery rate is? In my mind, as much hard guilt and shame I pile onto my conscious, I think I still hold out hope that good overcomes. That I can overcome anything, against all obstacles.The childlike faith -that- convinced me I could dive straight into the living room carpet using all of my body strength. I fantasied until I believed that carpet would be a big, dark ocean filled with mermaids and dolphins frolicking about.  I mean, this isn't a joke. I was the type of child who lived by blind faith that good would overcome. Believing it is seeing it. If you build it, it will come. Enough with the cliches.,.,..

As I ask myself weeks after weeks into years, what's the secret? What do people do to get through this?  They don't. People die from this because it is such a fucking nightmare. 97% of humans who try the shit will DIE from it.This includes IV, smokers, and 'monkey water' users.


This is the all over the place blog, that I will most def have to go back and sort through before I make it public. I am on the first day of shitty withdrawals. Voluntarily and wanting cold turkey, this is the route I have chosen to take. I'd say this is around the 20th time I started the withdrawal process in the last three years since I started using heroin. Prior to that I rode this same merry go round with vicodin, lortabs, and hydrocodone. A minimum of 50 times is what I would guess as the number of times I started withdrawal process during that decade.  I am referring to a life that was no joke, and still isn't. I am very familiar with how horrendous the withdrawals are. I know now something that I didn't know the first time started to go into withdrawals.   

How many relapses until we have had enough?

A new relapse in May. The shame is unbearably overpowering to the point of taking months to vocalize it.

Kindness: A Free Gift

This post is a bit off topic in a manner, but I believe it to be an important observation in the world of addiction and recovery that I have made over the last 6 months or so. 

Addicts and people associated with, have shown me to be a very unique 'cyber culture'. 

I get very few comments on my blogs, but I know that I have readers, and repeat readers. Not only from the states, but all around the world. 

This alone says that the topic of opiates, the lifestyle associated with, and the details of detoxing are all of interest. 

What I am specifically compelled to share is the amount of personal correspondance that has come my way. Even of more interest to me is the diversity of people and their situations that reach out to comment on my blog.

The emails that touch me the most are the ones that come from parents of heroin users and other opiate addicts. The essence of the messages are that they are thankful for my openess because it helps them understand what their own children are going through. 

Some of the parent's words have nearly brought me to tears. Partly because of what they are going through watching their own children. Primarily because I can identify with the stories they tell me. I AM that child. Which brings me to the saddest realization for me. My father. My Mother. My family. My heart breaks when I think of the worry I have put them through. My father has stood by my side, and modeled for me what unconditional love for ones child is. So many times I have wished I could quit if ONLY for him. To shield him from pain. 

I snap back to reality and remember that I can't stay sober for him. I cannot do it for my children. I have to do it for me. Talk about a 'trap'. 

I have built a friendship with a girl across the globe who is struggling with her boyfriends heroin addiction. We were able to speak freely regarding our different perspectives on addiction. She was able to share with me what her perception of a drug addict was before she dated one, and how it changed after.  Her boyfriend did not fit the mold of what she thought an addict was supposed to be like. "He was a normal person." In other words, he did not fit the description believed by many people who do not have direct contact with persons addicted to drugs.  

In my opinion the only characteristic that addicts all share is a deep rooted pain, masked or comforted that with an addictive substance.  My gut tells me that a good majority of addicts are 'normal people', who never intended to walk into the world of hell that is addiction.  

As far as my lovely global friend, the ability to share with each other our  pain and our experiences helped open my heart up, and for that I am glad. 

As an addict, I myself often only think of my own pain and suffering. I am sad that I over look the billions of people who also suffer for simply loving and caring for an addict. My life is very lonely right now. The quantity of people that surround me does not seem  to diminish the loneliness. 

What does satiate the pain to some degree, is the feedback I receive by telling my story. It's the one sentence from a stranger that reminds me I have provided a ray of hope- if even only one. It's the friendly check up comment. The one that tells me somewhere in this world someone thought of me, prayed for me, wondered about me. 

What a strange thing to find comfort in right? 

Please continue your comments and feedback. If you feel words tug at your heart strings, and if you contemplate posting a comment, I encourage you to follow through.  I believe it is a powerful force of hope for suffering people. 

Please take a moment to read the post by my fellow blogger Chelsie Charmed. Thank you for the encouragement to speak out about the importance of feedback! You can check out Chelsie's post on this topic through this link.   


http://lifesexperiencesandinspiringmoments.blogspot.ca/2014/07/is-there-anybody-out-there.html

A little kindness can go a long long way. You never know whose day you brightened, and how that in turn may effect many others along the way. 

Peace-J




 

Does it really matter?

I find myself curious the longer I avoid posting on my blog, as to whether or not my readers know what's up. It is kind of a useless thought, with the exception that it reminds me that it's never too late to write another post. I mean.....pretty simple decision; right?

I came to my own conclusion that if I regularly followed a blog like mine, and the blogger went MIA, I would certainly want to hear from them again, Regardless of the reason of absence, all of my days published or not, are what make up my life. 

I would like to take this next paragraph to invite comments and opinions. My absence from updating Blogger has been due to both positive and negative actions. The Suboxone taper...wow.... I did write most of those days, and knowing I have to read them again in order to type them up does NOT sound fun. Fear keeps me at bay. Fear keeps me hidden. So many days of the last 2 months I have given up all hope.

YET....

Here I am. I know there is still a shred of hope that flickers deep inside somewhere.  It lays dormant in that same place where the fearless, ambitious, hopeful girl used to dwell.  I hardly remember her, but I think about her a lot ore lately. 

My friends, my readers, fellow suffering addicts, do I lay out the last two months and all the ups and downs? My recovery is not dead until I decide it is. I want to keep fighting. Option 2 is not to blog anymore. I will not write this story if I do not hold my writing to a standard of truth. Option 3 is start over a fresh new blog where no one knows whats been going on. 

I have purposefully isolated and pushed away from all those near and dear to me. I have mentioned before, I write under an alias, but the stories and entries are real. I actually have allowed a few people I know have access to this blog. That also makes it harder to write.

I do want to. I want to push past the fear.

Please any feedback and advice welcome.

~J'Elle

Detox, New Friends, & Hope

Hey there Opiate Trap friends! Please check out my other blog @ http://suboxonestopping.blogspot.com.


I have been working hard on my Suboxone stopping and hope it reaches someone who might be in the same spot as me.

Thanks for every one's support, emails, messages, comments and for subscribing! It means more than you know. Both the encouragement and those of you trying to reclaim your lives.

I read so much on addiction and recovery and off the top of my head I come across maybe 25% that actually properly depict what it means to be an addict. Knowledge from scientific facts are great, but behind all those facts and statistics are real life hurting humans. We all have a story and we all deserve a chance! I love seeing the bond forming online between addicts helping addicts, family of addicts, and professionals!

We can't save everyone, but we can help someone!  One life doesn't seem like much, except when it's our own.

Also, any advice on how to merge the 2 blogs would be great! I do not want to lose any of my content or any of my new friends when I merge.

Thanks!

J'Elle

U Can Run but Ya Can't Hide!

Somewhere in the vicinity of 3am Tuesday morning and I find myself unable to sleep. Again. This time my insomnia is not brought on by annoying withdrawal symptoms, but by a mind that won't stop thinking. Plagued by thoughts of remorse that come along with the very thing I created for myself as an outlet for the stress and screeching voices hollering at me from inside the addicts mind. My blogs. Somewhere I have dropped the ball on reporting my progress (or lack there of), to a cyber world of readers that may or may not exist. 

My writing and enthusiasm developed into a rather consistent and productive outlet over the first month. The enthusiasm has not died, but my insides feel nauseated over the fact that I think I am not making enough progress. Am I a let down? As a day passed by and I ignored my online therapy I  allowed an onset of shame to plant seed in my soul. Each day that I did not write acted as the fertilizer that turned that shame seed into a weed infested guilt garden! My mind tells me that if I  mess up I mine as well give up.

If you struggle with addiction in way shape or form this concept will seem quite familiar. As I fight my insomnia I realize that 8 or 9 days does not a failure make!!! I mean, duh...right? The more I allowed my thoughts to unravel over the hours the more I realize that this is all still a part of who I am. A living breathing pattern of my addictive behaviors, and a very real part of my recovery. My goal is to not give up!

No matter how long I stay off the computer, or how many hours I sleep and want to ignore even the smallest set backs, my problems will not go away. 

SO, this is my attempt to grab hold of a new concept I will call- not running away from something so long that I make it irreparable by my own actions. Here on the early hours of day 50 of my road to recovery, I will not give up. I am still on the pills. A very low dose. A bit stagnant on the process. This last week has been different in my actions and in my thoughts. I have been journaling everyday, only on paper so that I could feed my silly fear of failure by logging onto google.

I am hoping this entry will help me to sleep a few hours. I plan to take my laptop to Starbucks and spend an hour or two going through emails, comments, etc and typing up my last week of journals. 

Until then... J'Elle