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They say it takes two weeks to develop a routine that sticks with you. I guess it's true, after all, it took about that long to get addicted to coke and same amount of time to get hooked on benzos or on dopiates. I said goodbye to that stuff long ago but I've still felt like a delinquent in life.

I realize now that it's been many many weeks since I started dedicating myself to building up my body to a higher level and it really does feel a lot more like fun nowadays than like the chore it would feel like as I'd put an effort in and fall off the progress wagon before the two weeks it'd take to build a routine.

What I did differently this time versus in the past was that I didn't overextend myself; I truly rolled into it from a humble start and now that my fitness is increasing it's become easy to start ramping up my efforts and really sweat it out.

This has galvanized my resolve to start building new routines into my life. I've taken up drawing and started writing consistently, and I'm slowly building myself up in these things too. I might only write a paragraph each day, as long as I write that paragraph it gets easier. Likewise, I only draw one thing on one page but as long as I keep doing that every day I can look back and see progress.

A journey of a thousand miles definitely still begins with the first step, but I think it's worth adding that the first step needs to be practiced until it becomes a second nature or the journey may just become another means to an end that finishes whenever the traveller gets bored or sees a pub by the roadside.

i can't get her out o fmy head. some weeks i'll think of her all the time. and by all the time i mean pretty much every moment i have to myself. on the drive into work, on my lunch break, on my drive home, and as i lie in bed trying to get to sleep.
sometimes i just can't stop thinking about her and how i managed to destroy something so great. i could not have destroyed the relationship better if i had tried.

so what the fuck do you do. try and ignore the feelings. pretend it doesn't matter? impossible. i can only trick myself for so long. the thing is i have no one to blame but myself.

i lie here in bed at night at in pitch black with my eyes wide open starring straight ahead with absolutely no emotion on my face while tears roll down cheeks. i can no longer hide the devastation i have caused upon myself but at the same time i recognise that i have no right to lie here feeling sorry for myself when i was the one that caused the destruction in the first place. who the fuck am i to lie here awake at night shedding a tear for the action i brought upon myself...

i can do nothing more than face up to the disappointment and stupidity i have done.. somehow i have to accept that this is the consolation prize i get for hurting someone that meant so much to me and destroying the best relationship, the best bond i ever had that was beyond anything i could have ever imagined... some how i have to accept what has been done and find faith in moving forward...

the problem is i had no self belief to begin with. i think that's half the reason i managed to get so confused and make the stupid naive decisions i did. i'm not even sure you could call them a decision because to be honest i can't recall even thinking about what i was doing before i did it. i was one confused, scared, cowardish like dickhead who was headed for the biggest disappointment of his life but was always too blind to see it.

not only must i find a way to live with the destruction i've caused i must also find a way to live with the disappointment of myself.

i ask myself what kind of person would do what i did... and there's no possible way to ignore the fact that the answer is me. fool. weak. scared. pussy. stupid. careless. naive. i manage to tick all the boxes and it would only make me a hypocrite if i was to argue otherwise.

so what do you do? well, i'll spend my energy on consciously telling myself that tomorrow is another day and life goes on. i'll probably manage to keep this up for a handful of days until i get to a point where i'm exhausted and unable to conintue to consciously bullshit myself, to a point where i'll get into bed and lie here awake for hours putting myself through the destruction i've caused one more time so i can lie here and let my feelings run free. let the tears roll down my face as i stare straight ahead telling myself you have nothing to compain about because i only brought it all on upon myself.

it seems like an ever going cycle that i'm in. like a merry go round that doesn't stop.

the thing is even if she was willing to speak to me and hear me out, there's no possible way for me to tell her how sorry and regretful i am.

i thought maybe the best way to tell her how i feel would be by writing her a letter. i have written page after page but nothing i write seems good enough or worthy. it would only make me a hypocrite too. if anyone else had done this to her i would be the first person to tell her to fuck them off. tell her they are not worth your time and energy in this lifetime because she deserves so much better.

here i am doing work with this stupid tv show on in the back ground. Farmer Wants a Wife.

It's a show about a bunch of single girls who meet single farmers and try to find happiness, blah blah blah.

these types of shows make me sad. all i think about is the relationship with someone who meant so much to me, the relationship i managed to destroy so well due to my own actions and stupidity.

dumb fuck huh. was so confused and scared. but really there was nothing to be scared off except happiness. we all want to be happy, me included. but it seems when i find a shot at happiness the first thing i do is try and destroy it. it seems like i lack such belief and faith that i would rather destroy any chance at happiness than be lead down the road to happiness only to find out half way that it was bullshit. save myself the disappointment and heart arch and destroy it before i even give it a chance.

ahh shit hey. what can you do? i can't change what happened or how i went about things. i guess all i can do is try and take this mistake and make sure i never make it again. put it down as a 'life experience'. that's all i can do i guess... but that doesn't stop the pain i get when i think about her, our relationship.. it was the best bond i had ever had with anyone.
anyway, maybe i'll save the details for another time when i have the energy to revisit all the feelings that continue to exhaust me.

you try and move on, learn from what has been done, but you can only out smart your brain so much.. there will always be those scarred feelings left behind and sometimes you'll see something or hear something that will remind you what you've lost, and what you could have/should have done differently.

there's a part of me that says what's the point in learning from your mistake if the one person you want to show how sorry and regretful you are, doesn't want to know you or talk or see you.

i guess all you can do is take a step back, smell the roses and try and appreciate the things that you do still have, because you can rest assured no matter how upset or exhausted or unhappy you feel at this point in time, there are probably millions of other people out there that are worse off than you, yet still manage to find a way to smile.

this is life. this is it. the sun rises and the sun sets every single day. it don't stop for no one. so every minute you're sitting there feeling sorry for yourself is a minute of life you've wasted. find a way to move forward and if you can't, keep trying because those who never give up will be rewarded. those who do don't deserve it anyway.

i miss you girl. more than you'll ever allow yourself to believe or accept.

So I transferred to a community college near my parents house for a semester while I try to figure out what direction I want to go with my life. I got 41 hours of credit and a 2.8 gpa so finishing college is a possibility. My parents have also invested upwards of 30 grand already for school so it would be kinda fucked p if I dont finish. I am 3 classes away from finishing the general studies portion of my degree so its time to pick a major. Im thinking about doing social work and trying to get a job with a needle exchange or other harm reduction organization. My other choice is to become a drug and alcohol counselor. The problem with that is im not down with the 12 steps or die methodology most rehabs push and I dont like the reasons most people attend (court ordered). So today as of right now im leaning towards a social work degree. Im sure I will change my mnd 20 times between now and January but thats the breaks. But on the present focus I have english composition 2 and physical science to worry about. Should be a fun couple months.

Gone

Feeling pretty good about myself... Was waiting for this day for awhile and now that it is finally here it seems like it went by so quickly. Starting to get my ol' brain working again.. shit is starting to function right again which is surprising. Life is good.. Really turned my life around.

I was talking to a fellow Bluelighter on the phone tonight and we had kind of an interesting conversation.

It was about Heroin and how fucking difficult it is to even fathom quitting. How heroin is the best and worst things in our lives. How the only thing we look forward to in a dreary week are the moments we get to use Heroin.

It's so fucking difficult to fathom a life without opiates. A life without drugs. My Bluelighter friend took so many of the words out of my mouth.

My life sucks as it is -- so why would I want to stop using heroin? It takes my pain away -- albeit temporarily. But some relief is better than no relief. Heroin is like an abusive lover who we keep making excuses for.

I fucking love heroin and I want to do as much of it as possible.

Fuck.

you can flail all you want, throw things in a nasty haste, make trouble for early morning bikers, dance in no standing zones, scoop hexalite in your eyes by the handful

but one thing is definitely certain
the works were monkey wrenched

yes. all the above please. yes.

but what can you expect when wanting something new for the mind? something that grasps you too could likely have the highs you pine for. newer branches ever unfolding into brilliant plumes of feathering light. a light turn on, a fountain sealed. my world, it seems, is filled with these two rivers ever changing. whirling apart but then meeting soon after in a great rush of sensation that leaves me spun and miserable and tired. to lift myself again as they roll away, but stronger still i find happiness in the act of it all.

this is where the weird get weirder
this is the climactic point that defines the hero from the beggar

RA282155435CN

I'm getting rid of physical addiction from tramadol again.

I switched from ~400mg/day to 150 today, zero w/d and I even still got high , Today I used Tilidine and I'm gonna use it to get off the trams it but have only 30x150mg of those. I'll give myself 2 more days to stabilize on 150mg tramadol after today then I'll make the full switch to tilidine. I just wanna get rid of the physical addiction of tramadol so I can stop using it daily. I have before, and I feel like doing it again for atleast a while. Concider it a "time-out" or something. hehe.

When I was addicted to them for ~a year @ 800mg/day, those were really the worst two weeks of my life. I was bedridden for two weeks, shivering, puking, sweating, having brain zaps and diarrhea, etc.

But I'm sure that if I get w/d's they'll be much much easier on me because I've been using less, and I have been taking these breaks from time to time and the w/ds are never that bad, so I kinda know already I'm gonna succeed The tilidine is a great help when I'm taking one of these breaks, it makes withdrawing so easy. I only have 29x150mg left though, but I'll probably get a refill before I run out. When I'm off the tramadol and only taking tilidine I can just stop taking it and I won't even feel the difference, it's amazing in that regard.

More importantly I'm gonna attempt to go to 0mg diazepam for the first time. I did a taper from ~300mg to 10mg successfully in only a few weeks time 6 months ago, that was not pretty.. But this time I'm gonna take it more slowly.

But when I got to 10 I just stopped. Now I'm gonna see if I'm finally ready. I'll be tapering at 2,5mg increments every two weeks. I feel ready.. But am I?

people are lame!

Small talk is unthinkable
Reminiscing has become a thing of the past
But one thing I'm borderline okay with is the monotony of every day life.

In my last entry, I talked how a company in Alaska wanted my administrative skills. A little Googling revealed they were a subsidiary of a company whose ethics (or lack thereof) I could not handle. This shouldn't be construed as snobbery as I have worked with and for morally bankrupt people and put my ethics aside. But when I think of what I want to do for the rest of my life, I think back to the jobs I loved the most. Good people who lived honorable lives were my bosses then. I've kept being my own boss and working with my family; it pays the bills.

I decided to stay in Portland. I found what I thought was just the right house. My roommate became my boyfriend (note: DO NOT DATE YOUR ROOMMATE, EVER). Due to his inability to manage money, we had to settle out of that lease. His mother offered to let us stay with her. It was fine as long as I catered to her every need, hindering my ability to travel and being totally devoid of boundaries. The proverbial straw was when my guy said he would not give back Chloe, my purebred Siberian Husky. He's kind of not allowed to do that as I paid to adopt her, feed her, and provide veterinary care. Of course I have proof.

No way was I going to live in that woman's house anymore as an indentured servant. I offered to pay fair rent, she wouldn't take it, yet she took it upon herself to use a gift certificate ($90) that I received as a gift last holiday season from a client of my dad's, while I was out of town working. She did this so she could have a ham to feed her friends at a potluck, the first day I left. The only reason I did not completely lose my temper is that she is in advanced liver cancer with a heart condition, just lost her job (dean of admissions at a university) after 10 years, and I don't kick people when they're down. She is a nice person superficially. 3 husbands, two kids, lifelong obesity, and a whole lot of Vicodin, etc., without CWEs can fuck your liver royally. So can screwing a married tech executive (when he can get it up) to pay for chemo copayments. I'm sorry - for all the relationships I have had that did not for whatever reason work out (incompatibility in all cases, some are still very close friends) my trail of tears never involved screwing for money or position.

I very much love my guy. I want him to be happy and successful. We were talking marriage and kids by this time next year. He's as fed up with his mother as I am. Seriously, if her condition was not terminal, I'd have been as mean to her as she was to me. Faux-nice people freak me out. Until her neighbors started commenting on how beautiful my dog is, she had such disdain for Chloe because, yes, Chloe sheds. My Husky, who I dreamed about since I was a little child, is my daughter. I have to decide whether to file a lawsuit for her return or just do it myself. The only cop who would tell me other than "oh, maybe she's better off this way" told me that if he were me, he'd 'take her for a walk' and not bring her back. And notably, Chloe is a very well-tempered dog whose temperament and habits have taken an absolute nosedive. She is now snippy, irritable, not being fed as I direct (which is a healthy diet, grain-free, fresh, kibble with vitamins and supplements of carefully sourced meat/seafood, as would a northern breed have in the wild), and totally undisciplined. My guy feeds her rice and whatever chicken or turkey is left over. She lives there because I just moved.

The new house is intended to be temporary. I'm happy here so far. There are 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, three of us here (others are a banker and a culinary student). The banker is the homeowner, a non-creepy female and has provided me with use of a comfy bed, all utilities - all I need to pay beyond my rent is for my own food and expenses. My rent is helping her pay her mortgage. It is close to everything I need, including tax school up here. The other roommate is a hilariously funny culinary student with a good disposition. 3 pugs ( ) live here, there's a fenced yard, and if Chloe plays well with the other dogs, she'll be here too.

I can see myself living here at least through the end of 2012 - savings are already socked away - as long as it continues to work. In my last coursework, I studied negotiation fairly extensively. I made an offer on the low end of fair market and it was accepted gratefully on the spot. We all have our own lives. I've been wondering what the catch might be. I am 10 minutes from Chloe's quarters in her 'father's' garage, just at the edge of suburbia. My guy can get his money and school right, or not. The choice is up to him. But if he thinks he can get away with the theft of my beloved companion who is a member of MY family, he's got another thing coming. The courts tend to side with the person who can prove ownership and licensing. That's me. Dogs are considered property under US/US state law. I hope my guy can get his head out of his ass so we can both be together with Chloe. Failing that, upon proof of ownership and care (check and check) for Chloe, she'll be here with me, and he'll forever be labeled as a dog-napper. My doubts now relate to: would I really want to marry and have a family with someone who feeds my dog scrapple, withholds her companionship from me, considers himself entitled to what is mine in general, never says please or thank you unless it's to his Mommy, and doesn't hold any regard for my personal well-being?

He needs help. I'm in my new place and happy about it so far. I hope this works out. I need to be independent. Alaska can happen in the future. Now it's time to create myself a good one, pass tax school (again - different state) and get to work. I'm not depressed, I'm not drinking, I'm doing what I need and liking this course of action quite well so far.

Between chronic health issues, mental health issues, a complete and utter fucked up home life, missed opportunities due to lack of funds and a fucked up body that does not seem to want me to be pain free and my complete lack of motivation to lay down the needle this year has been a complete bust so far. I have only confided in a few people just how miserable i fucking am these days.

I spend every day just trying to get through it and make it to the next. The only reason i even have for getting out of bed is to take some opiates so i don't get sick other then that id be quite happy to never wake up. My days go more or less like this. Get up and have a shot of morphine or dilaudid and take the rest of my meds then i think of how i am going to kill the day. Usually this involves just laying around or going to my friend/dealers house for abit then another shot around noon and another before bed. The few hours before i go to sleep are spent in a opiate, benzo and Cannabis induced haze in which i finally pass out off to the land of nod. The time in between is just spent trying not to think about how fucked up i have become.

To say i am at a loss as to what to do with my life is a major understatement and i try and not even think about the lack of opportunities i have. No money, i live outside the city where there is nothing to do but get fucked up, there are no women here and even if i did have any inclinations towards homosexuality there are very slim pickings in that regard either in my town, i can't afford to move to the city since rent prices are retarded, i would like to go to uni but i can't afford that and it would involve moving to the city so i am fucked. Completely fucked :D

Right now getting away from everyone sounds good. If i could get my health together i would happily move in with my friend on the otherside of the world and spend my days lying on a beach, doing cheap but very good heroin, popping her dexies, benzos and barbs and banging women all day. I wouldn't have to pay for anything other then smack and smokes so that would cost me fuck all money since i have a invite to live rent free there. I don't think i can hack another winter here since the last one damn near made me kill myself.

To be honest i don't even know why i keep on living as i have nothing to live for.

So yesterday was about the worst day of my life. I had decided (once again) to quit using heroin, but do a home detox this time since I'd never tried it that way before. Well my mom and I got into a huge fight about it, because she wanted me to go to detox and I didn't want to. I ended up driving off in my car to chill out, and she called me, and I was so depressed and felt like such utter shit physically that my dumbass told her I wished I was dead.

Well, about 30 minutes later, I got a call from my drug dealer. He wanted to know why the cops just called him and asked him if he knew where I was (they got his number because he was the last person I had called in my phone WTF they actually looked up my phone records!) and apparently they told him I was suicidal and a heroin addict. Obviously he knows about the second part but anyway, the cops calling him and all... that bridge is burned. I couldn't get heroin anymore even if I wanted to.

I decided it was time to go home after that, before more damage was caused. SO I get home and my mom says "I need to call the cops to let them know you got home okay." (I'm 24 and she filed a missing person report all because I left after a fight... nice.) I kept telling her no, don't call them, I'll get arrested, but she wouldn't believe me and called them anyway. They claimed they wanted to come out to "make sure I was okay."

In all actuality, they came out, arrested me, did a 51/50, and I spent all of last night and the better part of today kicking in the most ghetto psych ward in Los Angeles ever. It was HORRIBLE. The beds were all in one open room, only an inch away from each other, and at least one patient was screaming insane things at all hours of the day. At one point, this bitch next to me starts talking about throwing her daughter out of a moving car, chopping people into little pieces, throwing her daughter out of a window, etc. Like, graphic detail. This place doesn't let you get out of your bed for any reason except to go to the bathroom, so I was forced to listen to this shit. Imagine kicking heroin and listening to that, in that kind of setting. Pure. Fucking. Torture. And the shitty part is that I was never actually suicidal! WTF! Anyway they figured it out... that I wasn't suicidal, I mean... and let me go with my mom.

And now I'm kicking. I have to go to sober living (that was the deal for them to get me out of that fucking loony bin) but I have to finish withdrawaling first. But no detox centers will take me! Because I'm "too far into my withdrawals". WTF I'M ONLY ON LIKE DAY 2?! Day 1 if you really think about it. Sooo I have to do a cold turkey home detox. My only saving grace is that I have 5 Suboxone (only 2mg but fuck it I will take what I can get!), and some Xanax and Seroquel. Yes, Seroquel usually makes w/d's unbearable, but I've found that when combined with a benzo, it calms the RLS and restlessness and etc. enough to actually knock you out for a good while.

I know tomorrow is going to be absolute HELL. So is day 4 apparantly. I'm scared out of my mind and have no idea what to do at this point... and I want to use soo bad but that chapter of my life is gone... even if I want it, it's not an option anymore. God I'm so torn right now.

And I've nailed down what causes it. It happens when I take Xanax right before bed. It HAS to be, because I haven't eaten today and I took a Xanax right before laying down.

Anyway, this was a very long, drawn out episode and it scared the fuck out of me. One minute I was having a nice dream about a lady trying to serve me what looked like the most beautiful chocolate cake in the world, and the next - BAM! I'm in my room and my phone is ringing, and I know it's my dealer calling me to tell me to come down cause he's back in the area (I've been waiting for his call). Naturally, I couldn't reach it. And the thing about SP, is that it's extremely hard to keep your eyes open and stay awake when you're having an episode. So I kept falling in and out of sleep, and I must have woken up at LEAST 5 times, still paralyzed.

The first thing that happened was that I fell back asleep and had those weird hallucinatory dreams that you only get during sleep paralysis episodes. Then that stopped, and the rest turned into a struggle to just get up. I was in and out of it. There was one hallucination I had in which I was knocking on the wall, calling "Help" in a very garbled voice, and I heard my mom say "Hold on." I then saw her come into the room, but she went around the back of me. This made me really uneasy for some reason, I don't like not being able to move and knowing someone's there but I can't see them even if it IS my mom. I was able to move my arm just barely at this point, so I kept making these flopping motions and garbledly telling her to come around. Then I heard her say some shit like, "Honey, it's better this way. They gave me some sort of fructose to give you that will keep you like this. Don't worry. It's better this way, it's better this way." She kept saying that. Naturally, I thought all of this was real and so I was SCARED OUT OF MY FUCKING MIND. After a few false starts where I woke up still paralyzed, or woke up still paralyzed within a dream, I forgot about that hallucination and started doing my best to just sit up. A few times I managed to in my dreams, and I feel I could have kept it going and had one of those OBE's everyone talks about because when I stopped struggling and fighting it I felt myself floating out of my body, but I got really scared and had to stop, and I woke up again. Another false start. By then I could move my arms very clumsily and my hands and feet were fine, so, with HUGE effort, I tried to grab onto the cord for my blinds and pull myself up. Of course that did absolutely nothing. After that, a few more false starts. I was really beginning to panic, because by now I had figured out what was going on - trust me, I am NO stranger to this scary ass shit - but it's never lasted that long. I was really beginning to panic. I usually don't have so many false starts.

FINALLY I woke up for real and just SHOT UP out of bed. My eyes were fighting to get me to lay back down and go to sleep (it's really incredible how hard it is to keep your eyes open when you awaken during SP) but there was NO way in hell I was going to. I knew what would happen, and I wasn't down for another horrendous, possibly even longer struggle, with possibly even scarier hallucinations. My limbs were very jerky and I fell a few times from my knees just jerking and giving out on their own, but my ass was determined to walk it off until I woke up. I was terrified of falling back asleep.

So once the jerkiness calmed down, and I finally made it here into the garage where I could write this and smoke a cigarette, I called my dealer back. I've never been so relieved for a SP episode to be over with. Chances are I won't sleep for a week or so. There was a time when I was having them often, 3-4 times a night, and I already had some insomnia at that point, but let me tell you... I stopped sleeping completely after that. Like, I don't sleep at all now. The only sleep I get is when I accidentally nod out sitting up somewhere, just because my body needs the rest so bad that it shuts down on it's own.

Anyways. Christ that was scary. I mean, honestly, I have had scarier hallucinations that that... I really have... but this was by far the worst one for some reason. Maybe because it lasted so long. I know it started when my dealer called, and when I was finally able to move again and check my phone, it had been 15 minutes later. 15 minutes of paralysis! That's fucking INSANE! Or I don't know, maybe it's because my mom was the evil presence this time. Maybe a combination of the two. All I know is that the whole thing scared the fuck out of me and I am officially terrified of sleeping.

I hope the rest of you are sleeping well.

Either I'm about to have a psychotic break or I'm really feeling this good and happy for no reason....

Dancing around my house

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When one is an opiate/opioid addict, one becomes acquainted with all manner of their own disgusting bodily fluids. Things one can never really imagine coming from within are expelled with a mighty force; one can liken this to an exorcism of sorts. Perhaps even your body screaming, "No! Stop! Before it's too late!"

But I was never one to listen to what people tell me to do. Not even to myself. You say up, I say down. You say left, I say right. Ad nauseum.

The first one is vomit. Usually, when one is new to opiates, one will puke after using every single time. Some people become accustomed to the opiate nausea and do not puke anymore and some people puke every single time. It's really a crap shoot. [Har har.] Also, when one is sick from lack of opiates when one has a physical dependence, vomiting is very common as well. So you get used to that pretty quickly. I'm sure most people have drank alcohol to the point of vomiting or else have had a stomach flu at one point in their lives. I personally have a history of bulimia, so vomiting is not something that scares me. However, I did just vomit a great deal of yellow bile all over my bathroom. That was awesome.

Next up, urine. Urine retention is a side effect when using opiates! Sometimes, you can sit on the toilet for 15 minutes and not squeeze out a single drop. It's very uncomfortable and damaging to your kidneys and body in general. Once you finally go, however, sweet relief!

Now... feces. There's incredible amounts of constipation. Stool impaction. Ripping of the anal lining. Etc, etc. One must try to be as hydrated as possible and eat enough fiber so as to maintain a semblance of normal bowel movements. When in withdrawals, this rock hard stool turns into basically pissing out of your ass. It's fantastic, especially when it's the 6th time that day. Can anyone say hemorrhoids?!

Then there is sweat. You sweat more and get overheat while high on opiates as well as when withdrawing from opiates. You may find you can soak an entire sheet in an hour. You don't know whether you're hot or cold or both.

Tears, when in withdrawal, will stream down your face as if you were watching Titanic for the first time while holding your dead dog.

Mucus will stream from your nose while in withdrawal and you will feel like you're in 2nd grade again.

And that, my friends, is that. If you're a female there's the bonus of having your period! Which is just sublime when you're dope sick. Trust me. I know.

I apologize for having written that, but I had to get it out of my head because I'm so fucking disgusted. I just puked a bunch of bile all over my bathroom. It was awesome.

I started writing a book a few weeks ago, about the shit that's happened to me over the last few years. I'm in a whole bunch of legal trouble, so I have nothing to lose, really. I mean, I'm a convicted felon for the rest of my life. I can't vote. Can't own a firearm. Can't leave the country, or even my federal district. Whatever. I made a stupid mistake and got caught. I'm dealing with it. Anyway, if you have any interest in this, here's the Kickstarter page for the book I'm writing:

http://kck.st/QJE5ZN

edit

One thing good is no more sleep paralysis

But besides the rls, headaches, trouble falling/staying asleep, sleeping on an air mattress is

My dreams they have been so fucked up. I dreamt I had a baby and it died from SIDS.i dreamt yesterday that I was shot on the stomach and everyone told me I'm having a panic attack wtf

And last night I guess from reading a certain ridiculous post I dreamt my brother tried to kiss me ahhhh even in my dream I was gagging....literally but I didn't want him to know so I was being sly. Just ficking weird.

I think this is a fucked up part of getting clean being my dreams feel so real and when I wake up I feel all awkward and disturbed like they are real memories fml

I'm feeling so fuckig worthless and I hate it fuck I want to pull my hair out. I'm going crazy....

I feel like people will always know I'm a junky even when I'm 10 years clean because of track marks and I'm embarrassed and ashamed..


That is all.

I think I somewhat have my addiction under control. I work part-time Mon thru Friday and I get paid on Wednesday. I usually spend most of that money on heroin then I usually binge from Wednesday to Saturday morning. Then I deal with very minor w/d's (bad cravings tho) that go away on Monday just in time for the work week to start. But I usually don't use from Sat. morning to Wed. night when I get paid. I mean obviously using 4 days a week is a bad thing and the w/d's are a bitch even though they are relatively mild. I'll admit i'm addicted but I think it's a controlled addiction.

Now obviously if I ever get a pay raise or more hours I think that will send me into a full-blown dope addiction but for now I think I have a solid system going that keeps my tolerance low and withdrawals are also kept to a minimum.

My mom found out I've been doing heroin. After all the lengths I went to in order to make sure she didn't know, the IOP I have now completely disowned and will never go back to called her and told her because I was having withdrawals during group. What. The. FUCK.

I lived in my car for two days before my mom finally agreed to let me come back home and detox here. But now she's always ultra-suspicious of everything I do. For instance, I have horrible insomnia. I'll go for days at a time without any real sleep. This causes me to fall asleep randomly throughout the day. It's been like that ever since I can remember, but now apparantly to my mother, me sleeping = nodding out. She said those exact words to me: "I've been watching you nod off."

Idk I'm just really annoyed at the world right now. Ugh.

I guess I'm going through some identity crisis. I don't fucking know. I do know that If I continue on the drug path I'll never know who I really am or what I'm supposed to be doing, because with the roller coaster of addiction I never have time for deep rational thought or a care to.