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so, I am back in the working world and have been for a while now. it's funny because working your typical 9-5 is always something I've done, even while using. but how I see my day and how I go about my day are completely different. I've always planned to use before work, at lunch and immediately after. so now, being sober, and working the same 9-5 if quite different.

I am just thankful I have changed scenery. I left my old company and went on to another. I left the old area where I worked and moved on to the next. I left that life I was ONCE living and MOVED ON to the NEXT!

MOVING ON played such a big part in this recovery, thus far. those who want to get clean NEED TO CHANGE THEIR LIFE! you need to get rid of those past thoughts, those past memories, and move on. also, and I am thankful for this, you need to lose those friends who brought you down (luckily, it was not my close friends I have used w/, it was a random crowd I'd go out of my way to meet just to pick-up). YOU are the shot caller when it comes to quitting, so CALL THE SHOTS!

3 months in and I am on top of the world. SURE, this is NO WHERE NEAR the 5 years I put in prior, but sobriety is sobriety and I actually feel MORE CONFIDENT NOW than I did 4 years into my last go-round.

I am just thankful I have opened my eyes, saw life a bit different, and realized that I am the SHOT CALLER in my life, not the people around me. I can do WHATEVER I want to do, esp. if it betters my life and my future. I am truly thankful for what I have.

I've been living quite lonesome life in the past. Now I've met this nice girl at school. We seem to get along well, and chit-chat this and that. I think I have a crush on her - but I'm no sure if the feeling is only one-sided. I've been thinking of asking her out, but I'm kind of afraid to get a negative answer. I'm afraid it would break this beautiful "good friends at school" situation. I've been waiting, that she would bring up the topic of going out together - doing something outside the school concept. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to wait forever for this to happen. The situation is kind of funny, I'd like to move up the friendship latter, but then I have all kinds of fears on how this would proceed. Maybe the safest option would be to continue going forward as until now, but then again I might regret not making an initiative in the long run. Relationships sure are complicated! But nevertheless, I'm happy I've been able to make contact with a girl despite my shyness and lonesomeness.

Wanted to have a record of this somewhere. Five weeks ago I was lying in a hospital bed with two IV's in my arms, electrodes all over my heart and brain, a broken nose and concussed skull, being told my heart probably would have stopped had I waited any longer to get to the hospital after what turned out to be a psych & stim OD. By far one of the scariest experiences of my life but in the end I'm so happy it happened as it proved to be the wake-up call I needed to finally realise I really did have a real problem with drugs in general. Never mind heroin, it looked like I'd gotten myself dangerously addicted to anything I could lay my hands on. So I'm very happy to be able to say I've been one month clean today. It's been really hard and I still really haven't recuperated from all the constant stim/opiate/psych/benzo abuse of these past few years, but I feel better with every single day and I can't say how happy I am I've managed to get out of this. I can really see now how quickly I was on a road to completely ruining my life and I think I probably would have had I waited any longer to stop all this. So yeah. Just wanted to share

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Last night before going to bed, I performed a scrying exercise. To describe this scrying technique simply, I stared at a Tibetan "Om" mandala that was displayed on a computer screen until it was burned into my retinas. This took about 5 minutes.

Then, in a dark room, I sat in the seiza position (kneeling asana) and gazed at the color-reversed image that appeared behind my eyelids. Actually, the colors were correct, because I had previously reversed the colors of the original image to their complements using GIMP image editing software.

I concentrated on the image and began to manipulate it. I moved my viewpoint through the glowing mandala, as though it were a kind of gate way. Behind the mandala was a face made of the glowing phosphenes. The face was not in the original mandala. It was made of millions of bluish green jewels spinning in the strange, whirling kaloidoscopic symmetry of the vision processing columns of the occipital cortex. It was the First Shaman. He/she had a grinning Harlequin face. The face soon melted away, and I went to bed.

Late morning, around 6 am, I dreamed of entering a tunnel. Dark. On foot. Maybe I had to crawl a ways. It was a passage built of concrete, and it went under a road or some urban area. It opened into an auditorium-sized chamber underground. There was an amphitheater here. I sat on one of the concrete seats among the rows. On stage was a cast of dozens of singers and performers in old fashioned costumes. They were performing some kind of operetta. I don't have a musical background and lack the vocabulary to describe it well, but presently, they were singing a strange but cheerful tune. The lyrics were comedic. In structure, there was a group of main singers and several answering choruses of singers. It was a catchy tune and I found myself humming it for much of the morning after I woke up. It's frustrating not to know how to put on paper the strange music I dream about sometimes.

I feel that the following is now safe to put in my blog because the Fentanyl is now gone. After my father died of combined pancreatic, liver, stomach, duodenum, and jejunum cancer several years ago, he left behind cases of Fentanyl patches he had been issued by the VA hospital. In those cases were thousands of unused patches of varying dosages of fentanyl ranging from 12.5 micrograms per hour to 100 micrograms per hour released. Each one lasts roughly 72 hours.

Fentanyl is a synthetic opioid that is effective at 50 to 100 ng/kg putting its potency at 100 times that of morphine. Thus, 100 micrograms is roughly equivalent to 10 milligrams of morphine for analgesia, according to Wikipedia. The LD_sub_50 is 0.03 mg/kg in monkeys, so assuming my body processes it similarly to the way a monkey does, 100kg*0.03mg/kg and the chance of dying is 50% with 3 mg in my system. Not that I would take that much at once, but that would be 30 100 mcg/hr patches in one hour to overdose without a tolerance. So taking only a few at a time should be safe. Any excess would metabolise before it could build up to toxic levels.

Being fascinated with opiates, I couldn't resist the temptation to try one. My first one was a 25, and after waiting no less than 3 hours without any noticeable effect, I added several more to my arms and chest. Finally, I felt something. Their effect was OK for an opioid. Not as good as heroin or Demerol (my favorites) but much better than vicodin or codeine.

At the time my father died, I was in college and was only using heroin once every few months. Ingesting more frequently I decided was too risky and could affect my grades and job prospects. So back onto the subject of Fentanyl. After getting a taste of it by using a few patches every day for a few weeks immediately after my father's death, I quit. I didn't suffer any serious withdrawal symptoms except for one sleepless night and a day of nausea and diarrhea, if I remember correctly.

Having decided that they were worth keeping and weren't terribly habit forming (which is horribly wrong I have come to realize), I stashed them all away for later. They remained hidden until June of 2012.

At my last job, I was getting fed up, mainly with the limited opportunity for advancement under the current politico-economic climate. This is the "Lost Decade" for early career research scientists, and I am among the lost. Not only that, but as I've become more politically and culturally aware, I've been overwhelmed by the sick sinking feeling accompanying a realization: that I am an adult stuck in a world run by children with enormous material power, playing obsessive games with money and power. And nobody around me seems to be aware of it, or if they are, they aren't willing and capable of doing anything about it.

So, things have changed with me in these ways. I have sort of hardened psychically. I don't mean that I've completely lost all sense of compassion for other human beings, I just wish I never had to deal with anyone ever again. I have lost all hope for and confidence in the human race (with a very few exceptions), and have begun to wonder if what the world really needs is another mass extinction event, for instance something on the scale of the KT meteorite (the Cretaceous-Tertiary extinction event), the asteroid impact in what is now the Yucatan Peninsula that is believed to have wiped out the dinosaurs 66 million years ago. I would probably die in it too, but it's just as well, given the fact that I have no future in this country.

I looked for something to take my mind off of these things, whatever their cause. I decided to recover my stash. I dug it out and everything was OK. I didn't worry about developing a habit because I believed that I had an unlimited supply (but now it is gone) already in my possession. So every day since June 6 2012, I have ingested some fentanyl. I started small, figuring that 1 25 mcg/hr patch would keep me feeling good for 3 days. At that rate, they should last me longer than 50 years if I took 1 every 3 days as prescribed. I must have forgotten about my earlier experience, because one 25 didn't do anything. So I put on 3 more and had a good effect. Soon, almost daily, I was sticking at least one of the small ones and a couple of big ones onto my chest and biceps. I never removed them, but instead, I let them fall off on their own after a few days. Eventually, I had 10 or so at any given time. Boy was I wrong about having a 50 year supply.

Not impressed with myselt AT ALL! Last night had some vodka after three nights of not having a drink. Grrrr! I ate a sausage butty, tuna butty n a few Bernard Matthews drumsticks.
After all the exercise I've done, and the P90X arms n shoulders last night, I am DISGUSTED with myself.

Evey

Well I've just had what's called a eork focus interview. I'm quite positive now n I'm really glad that I was not put on the support element which means you do not have to attend them.
Eventually I'd like a job or there's no point in completing a bachelor's degree n doing a masters degree.
She gave me these options like there is permitted work. You work up to 16 hours a week, you can claim up to £101. A week for up to a year but it affects council / housing benefit or you can earn up to £20 weekly n can continue with this without it affecting disability benefit or counselling / house tax benefit.
There are also work tasters plus a work experience that is 6 - 8 weeks.

I told her I'd like to volunteer making breakfast for the homeless n she's ok with that, says it won't affect benefit n they actively encourage it. So next meeting which is Thursday, I'll ask to fill in the forms n ask if I can do Tuesday mornings as I do not have to go pharmacy for my suboxone on that date. I now only collect it on Mondays, Wednesdays n Fridays.

I have started exercising like I used to. Stair runs, DVDs etc. i do INSANITY Pure Cardio, Jillian MICHAELS LEVEL 1 + cardio, Debra Siebes, n Ryan Shanaham's (kettleWorx) 10 minute fast fan burn. Ten minutes may not seem a lot but believe me when you're using a kettle doing kettlebell swings, lunges with the KB going under, skier squats (basically squatting n pulsing while keeping in the squat), squat leg swings n kicks, you sweat like nobody's business n I only used a 10Ib kettlebell.

I want to do INSANITY Max Interval Circuit. It's an hour long of max interval training doing things like plyo, side burpees, in n out squat; the lot n it kicks my butt.

I've got some cold going on here buy hey ho that's not the end of the world n NOT an excuse for me to be sitting on my a** feeling sorry for myself. It's a nice day, I've two long things hanging from my body called leg so best get using them haha.

Take care peeps n all the very best,

Evey xxx

thats right, its been 70 days since my last OD. I havent touched or seen dope since. I thought about it maybe once or twice at most but have no urge or drive to use. I keep hearing from people I am on the "pink cloud" and it will soon end. Well, who knows.. but what I do know is I've been down this road before and never have I felt this confident and good about what I am doing/seeing. The Subox is helping greatly but even that I would like to taper soon. I am prescribed 16MG's a day still but there are days I'll take 8MG when I wake up at whatever time I wake up that day and end up falling asleep w/o taking another Subox that day. Sure, the next day I wake up and I don't feel GREAT but the 8MG itself got me through the day and still wake up w/ no urge; I just take another Subox at that time and all is good again.

Life has been different over the past 70 days. I moved out of my old apartment, left my GF, changed my job, have MONEY FINALLY, people are asking me to do things they were NOT asking before, I am being trusted by my family (although.. and YES it bothers me still.. there are time at night ill fall asleep on the couch and they question if I was nodding off?!?!) -- that PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF! my bad for falling asleep. and yet they ask if it was a nod? hey, whatever, tho. I am always down to take a piss test. plus, I take a piss test every couple weeks anyway cuz of the Subox doc, so I am fine w/ whatever.

I'll admit, tho.. I do smoke WEED still. Weed helps me sleep, eat, puts me at ease, anxiety, etc. Weed is helping more than xanax and valium did in the past. I also have a brain tumor and supposedly I can get scripted the weed once more stores start to open here in MA.

Anyway, I am working from home today and figured I'd write a quick blog in the meantime.

Bye folks! STAY CLEAN.. SAFE.. and HAPPY!

I’m going on three years as a weekend warrior and I honestly can’t make up my mind if that is something I should be proud of or ashamed of. At any rate, I’m strict about my usage, I don’t make exceptions for using during the week (that can turn into such a slippery slope) even when I’m having a horrible week or one that just seems to go on and on. Just Saturday. The six days in between can be a pretty long haul though.

When I’m having a bad day (or week) Saturday keeps me going. Last week was awful. I’m having a health-related issue right now that modern medicine isn’t addressing well. I felt so discouraged I barely ate anything Mon, Tues or Wed.

Somehow I always manage to pick myself up and find a reason to keep going. I’m pretty sure my Saturday activities are a big part of it. No matter what crap I have to deal with in life I know I’ll always have Saturday.

I do try to lead a balanced life with a career, a few hobbies and one friend that I hang out with. But I won’t make any bones about what I enjoy the most. It might be escapism or hedonistic but it does a damn good job, better than anything else I can think of. It is what it is. Denial is not just a river in Egypt. I am available to the world for six and a half days a week but not Saturday night, that is my time.

It seems like every week I’ve got a different thorn in my side. Health problems flaring up. Nightmares again. Job driving me nuts. Cat sick as hell.
No worries, Saturday is coming. Saturday will make it all better. It always does.

Well last night I did not have a drink n was pleased. All day I had the thought to buy alcohol but I did not buy any. I also did an hour hour n half of exercise when Beautiful was in holiday group.

Last night I was busy anyway counting some old change to put back into my back account. My little on counted her change too, that she had saved up, so that she can go buy a toy n put half of it into her bank account that she cannot access until she's 18. With the money she's got to that will be on a toy n maybe a small cake of sweets but not a lot as I don't want her ruining her teeth - which reminds me that I have 3 fillings on Wednesday 'because I have some decay.' I can't wait. I love fillings!!!!

Tonight Besutiful n I are going to my sister in laws house. They are having a late halloween thing where kids dress up n an early bonfire party. So that should be good. I can't really go anywhere until Thursday as over my overdraft which is £1,000.

Take care everyone,
Evey xxx

Tried asking for increase in suboxone somehow i don't think it's going to happen ignore title.

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Beautiful n I went to dentist n I lovvvvvvvve the denist!!!! Besides NHS dentists are like goldust here in Wales, if you're in one you're damn lucky. The waiting list are huge.

Beautiful's teeth are perfect. I am glad that I keep her away from fizzy pop n fast food junk crap. She doesn't really know what McDonads is n she's never been to KFC or burger King. She doesn't salt n vingigar n we do not have sugar n then everyone asks what my secret as to why her hair is always shining n her skin is lovely n soft. Well it's common sense really!!!! Just don't eat crap!!!

Back to the dentist. I am having 3 filling Wednesday 13 November n I'm really excited. I lovvvve having fillings as I laugh especially as that drill noise starts. Ooo how exciting.

Take care,
Evey xxx

thats a good thing, right? cuz it's been THAT long. might not seem long to most, but fuck.. 50 days or so is a life time and a GREAT STEP in the right direction. has NEVER been this easy and have never felt as confident as I do now. I surly changed my LIFE AROUND since getting out of rehab; left the girlfriend, changed jobs, stop talking to a few "people", and left the old apartment and on to the next. doing a 180 here, not your typical 360 and soon be back to where I was. no triggers, no feelings, no nothing when it comes to the opiate. I don't know why or how, but I truly feel great. Come on by and put the dope in-front of me w/ a nice needle and I'd throw it away! I feel that way.. am I completely whacky!? I don't know why but I never felt this confident/good before. My last use was an overdose, and made me realize how miserable I have been over the last year or so.. so what did I do? I changed things, finally. I left the old/bad places behind. I feel great, as said before. Subox or not.. don't care! For the first time in a long time I do not feel handcuffed.. its great! I finally got the balls to cut all and stop!

My gf Aelys is going back down to San Francisco for the winter so we spent a couple of nights on the town in Coeur D'Alene Idaho. It's a scenic city on the edge of a lake surrounded by mountains. The food was great. I'm not a food critic, so I won't even try to describe it, but compared to the food here in eastern Oregon, the Coeur D'Alene food was world class. On the other hand, nearly all of the restaurants in eastern Oregon are grubby meat and potatoes places. Worse, they eat a lot of pork here. I can't eat pork -- among other things, it fscks up my stomach, and it's just gross; so for these reasons we never eat at the local restaurants. We got back yesterday and spent the night in town at her place.

I put on 3 fresh 50 microgram per hour of release fentanyl patches early this morning in addition to the 5 patches I'm already wearing that are in various stages of depletion. They're not doing much. My supply is running dangerously low, and I haven't been able to taper down as quickly as I must. When I run out, I'm done. I have no way to get more. I've never been through full opioid withdrawals before, and I'm not looking forward to what lies ahead, especially with fentanyl.

The other day on my way home from the library, on the first steep climb out of town, I heard a Pop! and looked down to see one end of the skewer working its way out of the back wheel of my bicycle. A few inches of it were sticking out, ready to drop to the road. Almost instantly, the back wheel was rubbing the bike frame and brake pad in a bad way.

I stopped, unmounted, and laid the bike down on the shoulder of the road closest to the steep downhill drop-off that goes 100s of feet down the mountainside. I pulled out the skewer by the lever end and found that it had snapped inside the hollow axle. This critical part clamps the back wheel to the rear dropouts (the back bottom part of the bike frame at the end of the chainstays). Without it, a bicycle isn't rideable. The other end of the skewer, the one with the nut, had come out somewhere down the road. From the springy snap-like sound of the pop, it must have been ejected far down the steep bank and probably beyond hope of recovery. But if I could find it, I might be able to re-attach it firmly enough to ride back to the cabin.

I spent several minutes looking for it at the spot down the road where I heard it snap, but I luck wasn't on my side. On long commutes like this one, I carry a rather extensive repair kit that has every tool and part to cover every kind of breakdown that could reasonably be expected to occur short of breaking the frame or taco-ing a wheel. This kit has tools and spare bike parts based on the kind of repairs I've had to make riding roughly 5000 miles per year for the last 15 years, and since switching from cheap department store bikes to high-end bicycles 14 years ago, I haven't broken an axle or a skewer or had a break down that was so catastrophic that I couldn't at least coast home. In the kit was a tire pump, patch kit, spare inner tube, screw drivers, tire levers, hex wrenches, spanner wrenches, crescent wrench, pliers, spoke wrench, spare spokes, chain tool, oil, duck tape, pocket knife, spare parts, and other things; but there was nothing I could think to do that would fix it enough to ride home. For a moment, I was in a state of disbelief. A stinky diesel pickup truck roared by.

While I considered my options, I fished my cell phone out of my backpack and turned it on -- I'm the only American who usually keeps his cell phone turned off. It was a little before 6 pm. The sun hanging low over the ridge to the west. I was several miles out of town where forest begins and barely had started the first steep part of the ride up the road climbing the steep rib of a mountain. Nearly 20 miles more to go using the shortest route possible (gravel roads which are slower for a bicycle). If I were to walk, it would take all night to get there. Sunset was around 6:30 that day, and then it gets cold fast so I had to come up with something soon.

I found a few feet of wire amidst the heaps of trash in the ditch on the other side of the road and spent 10 minutes wiring the back wheel onto the bike, but the wire kept breaking whenever I tried to tighten it. When I finally got something that looked like it would work, I found that peddling made the wheel slip off. Even coasting with most of my weight over the handlebars made the wheel come off. Part of the problem was a single pannier on the rear right side of the bike. I tried calling my gf, but this was the one day she had turned off her cell phone. For some reason, her cell phone works at the cabin. I found out later that her battery was dead, and she had misplaced the charger.

The bag was heavy with supplies I had gotten from my storage unit in town: steel toe work boots, clothing for cooler weather, cans and jars of food, etc. That and my backpack had my laptop, a week of newspapers and mail from my P.O. box, a couple of heavy books, and a tool kit for a motorcycle (more on that later). Counting the weight of the bike (nearly 30 pounds) this must have weighed 60 pounds.

It was relatively warm and the air was still, and I took off running, pushing the bike beside me with one hand, on the side of the road in the strip between the white line and the edge of the asphalt next to the steep gravel bank that went down the hill. At least the bike still rolled; it just wouldn't roll under my weight. I was glad that I didn't have to carry it or hide it in the brush.

Beginning when the skewer broke and during the next hour, 23 vehicles, mostly pickup trucks, a few cars, 2 motorcycles, and 1 logging truck would pass me. Not a single one offered to help or even slowed. One white pickup threw (passenger side) a huge cup of coke and swore at me. Keep in mind that nobody who makes it this far from town would push their bike unless they had trouble. If you are tired, you keep riding, no matter how much it hurts. If you can't, you wouldn't be there to begin with.

Eastern Oregon is the Appalachia of the West. It's the part of the state that is a "Red" politically and culturally. A disproportionate share of its population are uneducated and have been unemployed since the timber industry collapsed in the 1980s. And they hate bicycles. I know I'm generalizing, but in a place like Portland or Minneapolis all you have to do is have a flat tire and 5 people stop and offer to help you before you have time to get out your patch kit.

After an hour of jogging up the mountain, I was beyond the range of cell reception so I didn't bother trying to call my gf again. Then I started to "bonk." I had no energy to do anything but shuffle along. Luckily I had bought some Cliff bars at the small grocery store in town, but I hadn't brought much water because I wasn't expecting to be out that long. Besides, there's a stream that runs in the gorge below most of the route. If I get thirsty enough, I'd drink from that. By now my mouth was dry and my throat felt like it was clenching. For some reason, I didn't want to climb 500 feet down to the stream in the bottom of the gorge. The way down was dark and steep. But luckily there was an abandoned cabin nearby, and I suspected it might have a spring or a well nearby. The clue was the trickle of water running down the bank below it.

The sun had sunk below the ridge, and clouds blazed a coppery red directly overhead and East across the valley all the way to the snow-capped mountains about 50 miles away. Higher on the ridge to the West, wind gusted through the tree tops of the dense forest. The air now smelled like mountain air. It was clean and crisp. I was above and miles from the valley which this time of year is acrid with smoke from wood heating fires and motor exhaust.

I climbed the fence and walked up the overgrown drive through the dark woods. Behind the rotting main cabin, water flowed out from the spring in the collapsed spring house. The water was cold and clear and tasted pure. I drank a pint or so and refilled my bottle. By now, I felt a new surge of energy. It would be twilight for another hour.

The air was now chilly, but I didn't feel cold because I had been running. I still had another 2 hours or so to go at a jog -- one more hour of climbing (mostly up) over the ridge, and then a descent onto a hilly plateau and a long gradual upward climb again. I was wearing my bike shorts and a cotton sweatshirt. I couldn't find my bike shoes that day so it was either Teva sandals or army boots. I don't know why, but I had put on boots. They kept my feet warm, but they're heavy. The shirt was now soaked and it was cold, so the risk of hypothermia is always lingering in the back of my mind. As long as I kept running, I could generate enough body heat to offset the cold of the damp sweat shirt.

I got back on the road, and after 2 hours of uneventful jogging and some shuffling when I was tired, I arrived at the cabin. My gf was keeping supper warm...

Hiya,

Day was good. Took little one to indoor play area. Spent time with her. Watched her laughing, smiling - this little person walking by who I created i love her more than life. She's such a character. Came home n had a sleep because suboxone is making me this way. Then though f*** the fact I owe my bank £4,000 let's get a Chinese so I got special chowmain n some pineapple fritters. I love them. Took a chips n sausage to my mam cause she was working n we got in out of rain n wind so made my lil' girl a hot chocolate.

Take care,

Evey x

Deletef

Its 3am, and I have work at 10am today, however its always helped writing out my thoughts of the day, to help my clear my mind.

I kind of feel my life has been dominated by a kind of bipolarity of mood changes, and fluctuations of anxiety and depression. For example for 3 weeks i will be exercising every day, eating healthily, not smoking, not toking, basically maintaining healthy lifestyle habits. Then I have a significantly bad day at work, and buy cigarettes or get high with friends, or take mdma, and after the depression sets in, a downward spiral starts happening. So the next 3 weeks is spent watching movies/tv shows, not really seeing friends or going to music shows, getting high and my anxiety and depression start to control my life.

Firstly, I really think that if i truly want to be happy I have to quit weed until I learn self-control, basically abstain from all intoxicants tbh. I gave away my tobacco pouch to my friend yesterday (for the record ive thrown about $300+ worth of tobacco in the bin / given it away to friends) in an effort to give myself a fresh start. I want to see how long I can live life without cigs as well, because I'm sick of my mentality that
a) I need cigs to enjoy a beer
b) I need cigs to enjoy finishing a meal
c) I need cigs to do most drugs
d) I need cigs to drink coffee
e) I need cigs to hang out with friends at night in the city

I've kind of reached a breaking point where ive watched myself make the same mistakes hundreds of times and I know where following certain triggers will lead me, that I want my own consciousness to prevail over my automatic reactions to emotions.

If I want to pursue a happier / more sociable / fulfilling life, i think the true keys will be daily meditation (hope to do 15 minutes twice a day building up to an hour over a period of time), daily cardio exercise (running and swimming now that it is almost summer, also dog walks), I need to find ways to help others as well (i figure its best to start in your own back yard so I want to be more proactive helping with chores around the house) and as noted previously sobriety.

I've said all of this to myself many many times, but I wanted it to be under my own name so i can come back to blogs, report on my progress and see if i really do have any will-power/inner strength, because I want to learn to love my self because i'm so fucking sick of being unable to care / connect / empathise with others because I constantly beat my self down which leads to complete self-absorption

its been about 40 hours no cigarettes, 2 or 3 days no weed, i'm going to have a shower, meditate, watch some firefly and try sleep, i miss the times when i was really high on life

Deleted

There is a trick that may well restore your tolerance by resetting the NMDA receptors - a low dose non-competitive NMDA antagonist. Memantine is the best for this purpose because it has a long half life and unlike DXM, it doesn't have a lot of interactions and it doesn't get you high. It reverses tolerance to just about anything you abstain from for a month or so. I was on it for two weeks before it bottomed out my alcohol tolerance so much that I drank one beer at a friend's house when I was doing my bankruptcy and I got a euphoric buzz from it whereas my normal alcohol tolerance is so high that I need a twelve pack in a two hour period or so to catch a decent buzz.

Who gets really pissed off and to what degree and gee, what do you do about it in those moments of red rage? Does counting to ten ever really work? Thoughts anyone? What do you do?

Time.
I am slowly ticking forward, infinitely, monotonously. I am experiencing the universe.
If I were to reach the speed of the photons passing my incredibly complex receptors of light, I could finally look at the universe tick forward as I am frozen in time, a suspended animation. Everything is moving along while I am stuck, yet, I am okay with that. I am at complete peace with my surroundings. The universe melts away, every dimension ceases to exist. I am the universe, I am life.
Life is the only fundamental basis for experience.
The abiotic factors mean nothing without consciousness.

Dark Energy slowly envelops the three spacial dimensions we have become comfortable with, as energy and matter fade into nothingness.
Eternal darkness is all that is left, until the spark of a new universe is born. The conditions remain the same it starts over, a never ending cycle of infinity.
No!
I’ve done this before, I have lived this life, I know what will happen next. It is all predetermined by the universe itself.
There is no deity, the Universe is god, it has divine powers, it decides whether we live or die. Yet, we are part of the Universe, we are all Gods. We are masters of meaning, mortality, matter, mind, and our own fate as well as destiny.

Nothing matters, there is no meaning.

Yes, yes there is!
I love my friends, my family, and my experiences. I have created meaning and matter, I am important, everyone is. Even the misguided who bow down to gods that lead them away from the true meaning of existence.
We are just matter at this point, converted to energy once our consciousness is extinguished. We will be reincarnated, not in the conventional sense, but rather be put back in the Cosmos as energy. Sustenance for plants, which becomes sustenance for animals, the cycle never ends.

As a species our mission must be to expand our consciousness throughout the Cosmos. The pale blue dot encompasses everything we have ever known.
This is a precaution for the inevitable extinguishing of that unimportant speck floating through time and space.

Vast oceans of darkness contrasted by tiny specks of hope and light as they reach the dot from the past, the beginning of the end.

The start of our Universe and the collapse of another.

Arrrrrrrrggg!!!!

12 Step Work - Step 1

I thought I would record some of the step work I've been doing in NA. I slight change in the direction of this blog, but I am really trying to cut back and see if it's possible to use heroin for recreation. I still haven't given up on it yet, but in October I made 30 days sober.

What does the disease of addiction mean to me?

It means being a complete slave. Being consumed 100% by drugs, even if by outward appearance you have other things in your life that are going well, you know you only do those things because in someway, somehow they make it easier for you to be a better, more efficient drug addict. It means your entire happiness is dependent on drugs. There is no future with out them. And if anyone tries to intervene with that, they are quickly removed from your life. Drug addiction is deception. You no longer believe you can have a future without them, a job, relationships, happiness, love, even a night out on the town without them. You believe that you are a better person with them, more efficient, more productive, a better all around person. You honestly believe that you are more likeable with drugs, even unlovable without them. And eventually you would rather be dead than to live without them. At that point, all of the things that made you the good, lovable person you were before drugs are disregarded for the drug itself. Addiction makes you do unconscionable things, because now without any of your principles or ethics in tact, and most of your meaningful relationships either disintegrated or shadows of what they were, all you have are drugs, and you will do anything to hold on to the one remaining constant. The one thing that still lets you be lovable and worthy, even though you've thrown all your other quality traits out the window, even if no one understands it. Addiction is realizing that there is no human being that you love more than a chemical. Not your parents, not your husband or kids, not even yourself without the drug. And you will hurt, lie, steal from, abuse anyone who tries to stand in the way of the drug, or if it will somehow help you get the drug. Addiction is the murder of the child that you were. The murder of all your morals and redeemable traits. The murder of your relationships. The murder of your self esteem and your self love. And eventually, if left unchecked, addiction will be the murder of your physical body and soul.

Have I given plausible but untrue reasons for my behavior? What have they been?

I love to justify my addiction, to tell people it's really not that bad to be a junky, you just don't understand because of societies unfair vilification of heroin, junkies and IV drug use. Don't believe the disgusting stereotypes. Look at my life. I've been successful, have a good relationship with my parents, am not a hooker, bought a house, and I'm a junky. Living proof that it's not that bad. I leave out the fact that I actually have done illicit things when I was out of work and desperate for drug money, that I had to sell my house for drug money, that I've lost all of my jobs because of my addiction, all of the important relationships I've lost because of my behavior on drugs and the negative impact drugs have had on my health. I make up believable excuses for why I have given up so many of the activities that I love and why I've lost jobs and friends. It the fault of everything but the drugs. I hated that company and sabotaged my employment from the beginning. It had nothing to do with disappearing for hours at a time to slam meth and heroin all day. In fact the drugs made me perform better! I had to give up sailing and snowboarding this year because of an injury. I leave out the fact that the injury was a direct result of something that happened on drugs, from nodding off at a bad time or blacking out after 5 days of sleep deprivation. I leave out the fact that I'm actually relieved because how was I going to hide the track marks this year?

Am I avoiding action because I'm afraid I will be ashamed when I face the results of my addiction? Am I avoiding action because I'm worried about what others will think?

I'm definitely afraid of sharing any progress with the people close to me. I don't like to talk with anybody about the addiction, recovery or even little triumphs or victories for multiple reasons. First, I don't think they would understand when I say small things like I made it over two weeks for the first time, or how I resisted despite a HUGE temptation, or finding a new way to deal with what feels like a crippling craving, or even when I realize I gone a significant amount of time without an overpowering urge to use. These are triumphs in my daily life but I don't think my friends and family will understand, or they will trivialize the significance of these accomplishments, so I keep them to myself. Second, if I fail, it would be just another disappointment for them. They want me to be clean so desperately, and they've seen me struggle and fail so many times. And each time they've seen me try to lie and hide it over and over again, until it's so painfully obvious yet again. Also, I don't want anyone to hold me accountable. So the less they know about my progress, the less I feel responsible to stick to my word. And lastly there is that part of me that is just embarrassed that I wasn't able to do it sooner. Embarrassed that it took me so long, that I couldn't do it on my own, that I've tried and failed,that I keep asking people for one more chance. And I'm embarrassed that they now know how long and how deep the lies have been. And I know that they have already forgiven me,but I'm still embarrassed that I let it go on as long as I did.

What situation led me to formally work Step One?

The event that triggered me and my boyfriend to first step into a NA meeting room was when my boyfriend got arrested and was court ordered to go to rehab, participate in a 12-Step program and pass regular drug tests. My response was something along the lines of "Awesome for you. But I'm not quitting heroin ever. No way, no how. So have fun with that." Over the next 8 months, I made a few half-ass'd attempts to take a week off here and there. But over that time I was able to see the effects it was having on him, he wasn't able to resist all of the time with me rubbing in his face on a daily basis. Eventually he failed a drug test and was in danger of being expelled from a second rehab and being sent to jail. In the meantime, I was beginning to see the benefits of the days I was able to string together clean, and was able to take an inventory of my own life. I lost two excellent jobs, lost the relationship I thought I was going to be in forever, lost my house, lost my best friend, was in danger of losing all my other meaningful relationships, I could see the toll it was taking on my family, saw all of my standards and morals fly out the window and was in serious danger of losing the new love of my life. He had said to me on more than one occasion that it was obvious and sad that I loved heroin more than any person in my life. It was true, but I didn't want that to be the case. So when the time came again for him to seriously put the needle down, or be locked up, for once in my life I wanted to be a support, not a deadweight and help him get through this. I wanted to prove to myself and to him that I loved him more than heroin. He never asked me to quit with him, he knew that would just make me want to leave. I volunteered. At first I said that I would quit for 2 weeks again. But as time went on, my thinking started to change. I was able to catch small glimpses of a happy life in the future without heroin. And I knew that couldn't all be achieved in two weeks. I had to commit to the long haul. Once that decision was made, I knew I couldn't do it on my own. I needed a support structure and I needed to actually recover, not just abstain from using heroin. So I decided to try the program as it was designed and see if I could really get an understanding of the peace and happiness that people talk about who have gone through the experience and are living clean, meaningful lives.

What does unmanageability mean to me?

As it states in the text, I can see examples of both inward and outward unmanageability in my life. Outwardly I have lost multiple jobs because of my drug use, I've lost control of my money, resorting to crimes, pawning valuable items or things that were important to me, blowing huge amounts of money in lump sums like 401k money, savings, home revenue. I was unable to pay bills or keep my car registered even when I had the money. I was unable to manage relationships with anybody, nobody was as important as heroin and I lost many relationships that were extremely important to me because I was unable to put people first, so I found myself all alone, which is what I told myself I wanted anyway. Inner unmanageability manifested itself in many ways. When I started using heroin, I told myself that I never wanted to use it as an emotional crutch, it was strictly going to be recreational. But as time went on I saw how it had slowly become a crutch I couldn't live without. I would make sure I had enough on hand before and after any event I found stressful, from a phone call that may be stressful, to a travel day, doctors appointment, or any type of event like a business meeting or family event. I didn't think I could handle any sort of discomfort, physical or emotional, without the aid of heroin.

Good luck in your own quest for personal recovery, whatever what for that make be for you! I love you all!

Peace, Love and Rock 'n Roll!!!

That's my brother, to put it bluntly. It's hard to think about this, because we are family and everything, but he really just sucks anymore. It's almost as if he knows nobody believes a word he says about anything so he just constantly has to shift "what he meant to say" around after being corrected about something.

He just doesn't really bring anything to the table, yet always wants a seat at it. And he's such a fucking bitch when he owes you something. He gets all fake concerned about the situation, like he'll sport a real quiet voice and slouch his shoulders, avoid eye contact, all that usual spineless bullshit. And he'll try to do trivial shit for you without asking you first out of some innate need to try to get more even with you (dude, I can bring my own laundry downstairs, just give me the fucking money you owe me).

Seriously, I've always had the thought that you can tell how much of an annoyance you are by how often you have to apologize to people. As much as I might be standoffish and overly frank sometimes, I very rarely disrespect someone to the point where I have to apologize for something. It happens every now and then like it does to us all, but my brother is constantly saying "my bad". In that defeated pussy ass voice he gets

"o my bad dude..."

god damn it's so pathetic it makes me angry just hearing it. I might be a bit spartan when it comes to showing of emotion in real life but I just am under the belief that emotion is best held in check in favor of a steady and calm attitude.

Im not sure what im even trying to say here but if you ever fuck something up, don't create some fabricated disappointment with yourself in order to make it seem like you truly care about what you fucked up, just own up to it and learn from it. Everyone makes mistakes, it's only jackasses who make the same mistakes over and over again.

And at this point I don't even know how we are going to interact when I move out. Part of me really wanted to help and be a part of creating his idea for a cartoon show considering I had always thought it would be cool to be a writer since it would get me paid to do something that always just kind of came easy to me which is make people laugh. But the more I got involved the more I realized us working together just wouldn't work out. He thinks he's funnier than he actually is, and I have no idea what kind of humor to even aim for. Is it for mature audiences? Can I use the f bomb? Is this planned for HBO or something like Cartoon Network?

he doesn't really know any of that kind of stuff, which leaves me somewhat in the dark about how to approach it. I still think I wrote some funny ass shit, but that would have happened regardless of how little I had to go on.

I know it's not exactly the greatest talent to brag about, but I have met very few people who can be bigger smart-asses than myself. My brother is one, albeit in a very crude and immature way, and my Grandfather is the other. When all three of us get to talking it really is always a hilarious conversation. Usually because my brother will say something incredibly false and my grandfather and I just rip him to shreds.

I guess my entire family are smart asses actually, and it makes you hone your craft from an early age. People say "sticks and stones may break..." and all that nonsense but it's just that, nonsense. I can make someone feel far worse than a punch to the stomach using only my mouth and it takes a lot less effort than throwing a punch too.

It may seem like I post some extremely long thoughts sometimes, and that is true to a certain extent. They are long posts, but more or less 10/10 times it is just exactly what first comes to mind. When you can immediately insult someone in your mind and have no qualms about being known as kind of a negative person, you are bound to rub some people the wrong way.

Now a lot of people probably also think I get overly mad about things.

Let me explain what I notice in the lounge:

Person 1: says something insulting about person 2 after feeling like they are acting like a jackass
Person 2: responds with another hastily assembled and poorly thought out insult back to person 1
Person 1: responds with a lengthy post more or less making person 2 feel like a complete idiot
Person 2: informs Person 1 that they take things too seriously and just got trolled

No bro, trolling means you make someone believe something that they know not to be true in their hearts. I still think Person 2 is a faggot, and you can call me mad all you want, you still just got made fun of and it took me around the same amount of time it takes to wipe my ass.

A lot of people think I sit at my PC all day logged into bluelight just looking for people to make fun of. In actuality, I mostly post via Mobile and considering all you have to do is go in the lounge and people more or less make fun of themselves, no shit I'm going to have a high post count.

The only ones who seem to have a problem are the ones who think I take things too seriously. I do take Bluelight seriously about somethings, considering I have gotten to know a lot of really interesting and helpful people on here, I take that very serious.

But to use that as an argument simply to try and save face after a failed war of words, that is seriously some lame ass shit

Now that this blog turned into another rant with no logical order or structure, I'm going to go smoke a cig and wonder why I just typed out any of this