Hey guys, longtime reader here and this is my first post. The story is pretty ridiculous (but aren't they all). I'll try to keep the following necessary backstory as brief as possible.
In May 2016, I moved back to the USA after living abroad for about 6 years and having a pretty successful teaching/freelancing career. When I came back, I didn't really have much besides my family and about $5k I had saved and brought over in cash to help start my new life in the states. I wasn't sure what I wasn't going to do, having been away for so long. Luckily, a distant relative in Jersey City had a huge house and rented the whole basement for me for a good price. So, I moved in not really knowing what I was going to do -- but hell, it was kind of exciting to be doing something completely different.
Anyway, on the first night in JC, I went over to Brooklyn where one of my long lost -- and estranged-- friends was living with his ex-wife (she lived in a separate side of the apartment divided by the kitchen, but they still talked/slept together from time to time). This friend, as we all knew, had a serious heroin problem and usually selling his subs/adderall to support the habit. Now, I had been addicted to codeine pills when I lived abroad, and I have a highly addictive personality overall. When I get to his place, he offers me a bag and I snort it. You know how the first H high feels. I was in love and amazed, and thought, "Isn't this the most perfect little thing? Just a little snort and I can have an awesome day!" This was comforting, because at 28, living in my Aunt's dark basement without a job or any career yet established was no less than depressing.
For the next 5 months, I start going to this guy's apt. every other day to score, do drugs (IV) with him, and fuck around town. I had nothing better to do so I thought, why not? Well, in October I decided it was enough: time to move out of my aunt's place, quit the junk and get serious with life in the states. It was pretty horrible kicking cold turkey, but basically drank myself through it and when I came out the other side, my friend, who had lots of trouble with the law, had moved to the west coast. His old ex wife who had basically been miserably co-dependent and through hell watching her first love die and be replaced with an ugly, conniving junky, well-- she moved in with some mutual friends who were married and stable and everything went well for her.
So life went on. I just sort of forgot about the whole wretched time. At this point, I was working for a school, clean except for the booze (ha) and the sub or two I got from the junky when he made his monthly sojourn to NYC to sell his pills he got from medicaid. I was going to the gym, saving money, enrolled in grad school, and getting my life together apart from the boozing that I thought I had under control.
In April, it was a lovely spring day and I randomly texted his ex-wife (lets call her Jane) while getting drunk by myself along the east river. She and I had never really got along before, but I was sort of enjoying the booze and sun buzz. We ended up hanging out, spending an awesomely random day together, and making out. Later that week, she invited me to her place and we banged. Then started a very unexpected courtship ---> relationship that was the best of my adult life. We spent all this time together, went on fun dates, made dinners, awesome sex, great chemistry. It seemed like any issue that came up, we could communicate and work it out. Really fucking awesome stuff, despite the fact that she was the ex-wife of my ex-friend who would harass her when he came back for his monthly pill run.
At this point, I was doing my part-time program in grad school, getting really into my new career as a journalist and feeling pretty good about how things were turning out. Things really couldn't get any better, it seemed.
And yet here's where the shit starts to unravel.
I had found an adderall dealer, and was getting pretty amped up on those fairly regularly to help deal with the school work load. And all that up needs to come down, which I would accomplish with booze at night, if I wasn't with Jane (or if I was, just less). So I was hitting it pretty hard, but still having a great (even better time with Jane). I got my first paid writing job, finished that summer semester, and Jane and I were basically living together. I took care of everything; I was her hero.
While I was doing the AD in the summer, the thought would occasionally flit through my mind that, "for the price of these pills, I used to get a whole bundle of H, and that felt a lot better, too." Then the thought would pass. I kinda got sick of AD then and gave it up. I was very actively in addiction still, but I thought that I could pick and choose my DOC, that I could control it. Boy was I wrong.
Around the time that I was coming up on a year off H, I moved in with Jane. Throughout our relationship (she knew about my drug use with her ex, she even saw me OD) she would always say that doing heroin was the one thing that she could never put up with again; it had caused her so much pain. Of course the whole time I agreed. Of course I didn't want to do H again either! We would both drink (me more often and greater quantity) but no heroin, or even the subs anymore.
But then something happened. Now I realize that I had been slipping big time and had no real understanding of the disease of addiction. I had been building up for a huge blowout. I had suddenly begun obsessing, thinking about how I could get heroin. I even told her once in a drunken stupor that the only thing stopping me was a lack of contacts! It goes without saying that she was very concerned and told me so the next morning.
A few weeks later, I somehow found a contact on the internet, and went to score but wussed out. But then a few days later, I found another contact and went to the projects to score. The whole time I was thinking "the worst thing that could happen is that this stuff is real." But this time my legs kept moving forward, I didn't even know what I was doing. Well, ladies and gentlemen, the stuff was real. And it was good.
What followed was a weeklong binge starting with snorting, then back to the old IV. I thought I had it in control, that I could hide it from Jane. She was going home to China to visit her family for 6 weeks in a couple of days when one night she rolled over and caught a glimpse of my track marked arm. I had never seen something die before then. Her love and trust for me died in seconds. She was physically sick. What a cruel joke life had played on her! Two people she loved were degenerate addicts.
She said I had to leave. I told her I wanted to get clean, that it was a relapse and that I needed help, that I didn't want to lose her. She went to China and it seemed like we were going to try and get through it; we talked every day, she seemed ok with my progress in NA (yet I continued to drink). When she came back, I had been clean and feeling good. We slept together a couple times that first night but the next night, she was different. She said it was over. IT didn't matter that she had brought me gifts for myself and parents. Something was just missing and she said she didn't feel the same way.
Now I have to live with her till the end of Jan when I'll move out and find another place, I guess. I realized I had hit rock bottom and had to quit drinking. For me, booze is like oil on the eternal flame of addiction-- it just keeps it burning.
I realize that I need to focus on myself and work the 12 steps program and get serious therapy. What do you all think about this? I realize it's such a ridiculously long story, so sorry about that. But I haven't been able to get to a meeting yet, as I went to visit my dad for the week before Xmas. I'm 6 days sober ( a first in a long time) and many weeks clean. Is all hope lost with Jane? I realize I totally broke character, made her lose trust, and lose respect for me. Dam does it hurt bad, but reading all the different literature out there, I realize there's no use dwelling on negative emotions and the past.
Should I just give up, try to forget about her despite having to live together till Feb., and focus on myself?
Any advice/comments on how to do this effectively and stay positive? Thanks so much everybody!
In May 2016, I moved back to the USA after living abroad for about 6 years and having a pretty successful teaching/freelancing career. When I came back, I didn't really have much besides my family and about $5k I had saved and brought over in cash to help start my new life in the states. I wasn't sure what I wasn't going to do, having been away for so long. Luckily, a distant relative in Jersey City had a huge house and rented the whole basement for me for a good price. So, I moved in not really knowing what I was going to do -- but hell, it was kind of exciting to be doing something completely different.
Anyway, on the first night in JC, I went over to Brooklyn where one of my long lost -- and estranged-- friends was living with his ex-wife (she lived in a separate side of the apartment divided by the kitchen, but they still talked/slept together from time to time). This friend, as we all knew, had a serious heroin problem and usually selling his subs/adderall to support the habit. Now, I had been addicted to codeine pills when I lived abroad, and I have a highly addictive personality overall. When I get to his place, he offers me a bag and I snort it. You know how the first H high feels. I was in love and amazed, and thought, "Isn't this the most perfect little thing? Just a little snort and I can have an awesome day!" This was comforting, because at 28, living in my Aunt's dark basement without a job or any career yet established was no less than depressing.
For the next 5 months, I start going to this guy's apt. every other day to score, do drugs (IV) with him, and fuck around town. I had nothing better to do so I thought, why not? Well, in October I decided it was enough: time to move out of my aunt's place, quit the junk and get serious with life in the states. It was pretty horrible kicking cold turkey, but basically drank myself through it and when I came out the other side, my friend, who had lots of trouble with the law, had moved to the west coast. His old ex wife who had basically been miserably co-dependent and through hell watching her first love die and be replaced with an ugly, conniving junky, well-- she moved in with some mutual friends who were married and stable and everything went well for her.
So life went on. I just sort of forgot about the whole wretched time. At this point, I was working for a school, clean except for the booze (ha) and the sub or two I got from the junky when he made his monthly sojourn to NYC to sell his pills he got from medicaid. I was going to the gym, saving money, enrolled in grad school, and getting my life together apart from the boozing that I thought I had under control.
In April, it was a lovely spring day and I randomly texted his ex-wife (lets call her Jane) while getting drunk by myself along the east river. She and I had never really got along before, but I was sort of enjoying the booze and sun buzz. We ended up hanging out, spending an awesomely random day together, and making out. Later that week, she invited me to her place and we banged. Then started a very unexpected courtship ---> relationship that was the best of my adult life. We spent all this time together, went on fun dates, made dinners, awesome sex, great chemistry. It seemed like any issue that came up, we could communicate and work it out. Really fucking awesome stuff, despite the fact that she was the ex-wife of my ex-friend who would harass her when he came back for his monthly pill run.
At this point, I was doing my part-time program in grad school, getting really into my new career as a journalist and feeling pretty good about how things were turning out. Things really couldn't get any better, it seemed.
And yet here's where the shit starts to unravel.
I had found an adderall dealer, and was getting pretty amped up on those fairly regularly to help deal with the school work load. And all that up needs to come down, which I would accomplish with booze at night, if I wasn't with Jane (or if I was, just less). So I was hitting it pretty hard, but still having a great (even better time with Jane). I got my first paid writing job, finished that summer semester, and Jane and I were basically living together. I took care of everything; I was her hero.
While I was doing the AD in the summer, the thought would occasionally flit through my mind that, "for the price of these pills, I used to get a whole bundle of H, and that felt a lot better, too." Then the thought would pass. I kinda got sick of AD then and gave it up. I was very actively in addiction still, but I thought that I could pick and choose my DOC, that I could control it. Boy was I wrong.
Around the time that I was coming up on a year off H, I moved in with Jane. Throughout our relationship (she knew about my drug use with her ex, she even saw me OD) she would always say that doing heroin was the one thing that she could never put up with again; it had caused her so much pain. Of course the whole time I agreed. Of course I didn't want to do H again either! We would both drink (me more often and greater quantity) but no heroin, or even the subs anymore.
But then something happened. Now I realize that I had been slipping big time and had no real understanding of the disease of addiction. I had been building up for a huge blowout. I had suddenly begun obsessing, thinking about how I could get heroin. I even told her once in a drunken stupor that the only thing stopping me was a lack of contacts! It goes without saying that she was very concerned and told me so the next morning.
A few weeks later, I somehow found a contact on the internet, and went to score but wussed out. But then a few days later, I found another contact and went to the projects to score. The whole time I was thinking "the worst thing that could happen is that this stuff is real." But this time my legs kept moving forward, I didn't even know what I was doing. Well, ladies and gentlemen, the stuff was real. And it was good.
What followed was a weeklong binge starting with snorting, then back to the old IV. I thought I had it in control, that I could hide it from Jane. She was going home to China to visit her family for 6 weeks in a couple of days when one night she rolled over and caught a glimpse of my track marked arm. I had never seen something die before then. Her love and trust for me died in seconds. She was physically sick. What a cruel joke life had played on her! Two people she loved were degenerate addicts.
She said I had to leave. I told her I wanted to get clean, that it was a relapse and that I needed help, that I didn't want to lose her. She went to China and it seemed like we were going to try and get through it; we talked every day, she seemed ok with my progress in NA (yet I continued to drink). When she came back, I had been clean and feeling good. We slept together a couple times that first night but the next night, she was different. She said it was over. IT didn't matter that she had brought me gifts for myself and parents. Something was just missing and she said she didn't feel the same way.
Now I have to live with her till the end of Jan when I'll move out and find another place, I guess. I realized I had hit rock bottom and had to quit drinking. For me, booze is like oil on the eternal flame of addiction-- it just keeps it burning.
I realize that I need to focus on myself and work the 12 steps program and get serious therapy. What do you all think about this? I realize it's such a ridiculously long story, so sorry about that. But I haven't been able to get to a meeting yet, as I went to visit my dad for the week before Xmas. I'm 6 days sober ( a first in a long time) and many weeks clean. Is all hope lost with Jane? I realize I totally broke character, made her lose trust, and lose respect for me. Dam does it hurt bad, but reading all the different literature out there, I realize there's no use dwelling on negative emotions and the past.
Should I just give up, try to forget about her despite having to live together till Feb., and focus on myself?
Any advice/comments on how to do this effectively and stay positive? Thanks so much everybody!
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