Down the rabbit hole I went and this time it would not be a 3 month binge. You would think this is the part of the story where I tell you my whole life went to shit and everything fell apart. But that is not quite the case. It was really a slow build from there I guess. Like one of those cars from the soap box derby at the top of a big hill where the slope is still gradual, heading for the inevitable stomach wrenching steep part of the hill which there is no return. The leftovers from that night which may have been 8 or so I really do not recall exactly. Lasted me about 3 weeks. I was just gonna do them occasionally I told myself. Why should I not have something that I enjoy? I have a good job where I work hard all week. I will be a weekend warrior I half heartedly reassured myself. Like a well earned treat for myself at the end of a long work week. Then the big game was coming on and this would be so much better with a little buzz. Next it was as long as I never do them two days in a row I will be fine "I will not become physically dependant that way at least." I lied to myself. It all broke down from there but I maintained. Well except for with Amy. I mean we lived together there was no way I could get away with the lies for long. I would have thought the lies alone would be enough to drop me. But no, she wanted to work it out. I made more promises I knew that I would never keep and it all fell apart quickly after that. She was loyal and loving but also very smart. She saw where I was headed and it was either get pulled down with me or walk away. She chose the latter and wiser path. I held my job fine. I guess I was what some people would call a functioning addict for a very long time. I went to work everyday I payed my bills and my taxes and attended social gatherings. After a while the "normal" me that everyone knew was the me on oxy. Being high was my baseline now. I continued this for a very long time. I paid back my old buddy who bought my Subaru back probably 1000 times over if not more. I probably put his kid through college.
I tried to kick several times over the years when I started getting a tolerance level that I thought was too high. And I did kick several times... but not really. I would be off for a week or two maybe a month tops. Then I was right back there giving that guy back his money for that Subaru over and over again. He was an amazing hook up I will say that. He seemed to have as many as I wanted anytime I wanted them day night did not matter. I never knew how or why or where he would get that much oxy. I never asked, I didnt care as long as it was there. I never let myself get to a point where I couldnt feel something off of 120 mg. and I tried to only dose once a day. When that didnt seem like enough I would quit... "for good this time" ...every time. I knew people who were banging 3 times that amount every day maybe more. "I am not as bad as them at least." I told myself. I stopped in a lot of different ways. I just detoxed cold turkey almost as if to punish myself and remind myself of the damage that it must be doing to my body if it hurt that much just to heal. I tapered my dose down to completely nothing by myself with nobody controlling my meds(which if you have ever tried know is a very very difficult thing to do.) I found a source for Suboxin and did that for a while. My thing with myself is I will never put a needle in my arm as long as I never do that I am not a junkie. I was a junkie though I knew it then as clearly as I do right now but I managed to convince myself and always justify it somehow. I was not like those guys banging H on Capital St. I was not a junkie I did not even shoot. But the only thing a needle would have changed was I would have gotten more for my money. I was a junkie all the same.
Still I maintained this lifestyle and continued being a contributing member of society. Sometime around late 2009 or early 2010 though that facade came crashing down as well. A new opiate finally made it's way to my area. It was called OxyMorphone or Opana. It was like it was made for me. 3x stronger than oxy and I didnt even have to shoot it like Hyrdomorphone(Dilaudid). The BA was almost as good insuffilated. The first time it was like falling in love all over again like all those years ago melted into that beat up recliner. I had finally almost chased down that feeling again ... almost. But to quote a popular artist. "No matter how much, too much is never enough." I stopped trying to kick after that and just stopped following all the rules... except the needle. Still no needles, I was no junkie. But now more than ever I was just that. I spent more and more money on this new better love that I had found. Eventually I "borrowed" some money from petty cash at work and got caught and I no longer had that good job to help me be a functioning sociatal member. I did things after that that make me sick to my stomach as I sit here. I took advantage of trust built over the years by getting large amounts fronted to me with no way to pay it back in the forseeable future. I pawned jewelery that belonged to my deceased grandmother. Near the end when it got really bad I was stealing oxycodone from my grandfather who was dying from Luekemia. My own grandfather who was in incredible pain at the end of his life. I mean he was a terminal cancer patient I am sure he had no trouble getting replaced what I was stealing from him. But if it caused him one day, one hour of extra pain or suffering then I deserve every second of every agonizing moment of withdraw that I experienced in my life and that would not even cover the interest. I was sick. I am sick. I will be sick for the rest of my life. I am an addict. I am a junkie.
I sit here having just written all this way too wordy, incredibly long story of the escalation of my sickness in one sitting while I am 5 days sober. I am in the end stages of the physical WD symptoms right now there are still some there but after the first 3 days of hell this feels like a swedish massage. I stopped cold turkey again but this time it was not to punish myself, or perhaps it was on some subconscious level, but consciously something just clicked off or on or whatever and I realized I have to stop. Not because of the damage I have done to myself and my life but because of the damage I have done to others. Not just to any "others" but people I love. People I love very dearly and some who I will never be able to even try to make amends because they are gone now, like my grandfather. So after considering all the peoples lives I have negatively affected I just mentally lost the desire to continue using or maybe I am taking to much credit and my body and brain realised I am killing them and decided to fight back. I dont know what it was but it feels different this time. I was never very spiritual I do not really have a fear of making amends to the things I have done to make peace with any god. I am not even sure I beleive in any god. I just know this time I really want to stop and I am going to reach out to people this time because I now know that I am ill. I have a disease that I can not defeat on my own any more than I could if it was cancer. I also have no disillusion that just because I think it "feels different" this time that I will win. I know that I have a high chance of relapsing at some point but if I do I will dust myself off and fight again. Because I am lucky enough to have family and friends that still love me enough to help me and hold me accountible. That doesnt even mean I will succeed. But it does mean they give me the chance to succeed if I want to badly enough. If anyone ever reads this and you have read this far there is a good chance that you and I either share this sickness or you have conquered it in the past. If you are the the latter I congratulate you. Anyone who has not been an addict of some kind can never truly appreciate your triumph. It is something to be proud of you defeated the toughest opponent at least I personally ever came across in this life. If you are the former and you are readind this and you too are still plagued by this disease I hope you can take at least something from my words. Maybe learn from my mistakes if you have not already made the same ones. I hope you also choose to fight if it has negatively effected your life the way that is has mine. And I hope you are victorious.
I think when I started writing this it was so I could show people that is was not my fault. How unlucky I was. All the small things that happend that if they were a little bit different just one little thing and I would have avoided temptation and just been a normal person. I mean the last thing I should want to do while I am in the middle of detoxing and withdraws is talk about it and bring it more to my own attention. A sane person would be trying to distract themselves from the pain not talk about it. I may not be sane I do not know. But I know I feel more sane now than I have in a while. Again when I started writing this I wanted to blame my old friend from when I was 19 that traded me that first oxy for a little bit of reefer. I wanted to blame the random chance that some guy who saw an ad for a car I was selling had both the drug itself and the gumption to actually offer it to me. I wanted to blame the drugs themselves for being somehow inherently evil. I wanted someone, anyone to see that it was the fault of these people, things, events that have gotten me to where I am now. But over the course of actually writing it I guess it was theraputic in a way because I realized that none of that is true at all. I made every decision that led me to where I am right now. I was in control of my own destiny. I am still in control of my own destiny. I make the decsisons that both positively and negatively effect my life. The results of those decisions for better or worse are of my own doing. I take responsibility for my actions.
I tried to kick several times over the years when I started getting a tolerance level that I thought was too high. And I did kick several times... but not really. I would be off for a week or two maybe a month tops. Then I was right back there giving that guy back his money for that Subaru over and over again. He was an amazing hook up I will say that. He seemed to have as many as I wanted anytime I wanted them day night did not matter. I never knew how or why or where he would get that much oxy. I never asked, I didnt care as long as it was there. I never let myself get to a point where I couldnt feel something off of 120 mg. and I tried to only dose once a day. When that didnt seem like enough I would quit... "for good this time" ...every time. I knew people who were banging 3 times that amount every day maybe more. "I am not as bad as them at least." I told myself. I stopped in a lot of different ways. I just detoxed cold turkey almost as if to punish myself and remind myself of the damage that it must be doing to my body if it hurt that much just to heal. I tapered my dose down to completely nothing by myself with nobody controlling my meds(which if you have ever tried know is a very very difficult thing to do.) I found a source for Suboxin and did that for a while. My thing with myself is I will never put a needle in my arm as long as I never do that I am not a junkie. I was a junkie though I knew it then as clearly as I do right now but I managed to convince myself and always justify it somehow. I was not like those guys banging H on Capital St. I was not a junkie I did not even shoot. But the only thing a needle would have changed was I would have gotten more for my money. I was a junkie all the same.
Still I maintained this lifestyle and continued being a contributing member of society. Sometime around late 2009 or early 2010 though that facade came crashing down as well. A new opiate finally made it's way to my area. It was called OxyMorphone or Opana. It was like it was made for me. 3x stronger than oxy and I didnt even have to shoot it like Hyrdomorphone(Dilaudid). The BA was almost as good insuffilated. The first time it was like falling in love all over again like all those years ago melted into that beat up recliner. I had finally almost chased down that feeling again ... almost. But to quote a popular artist. "No matter how much, too much is never enough." I stopped trying to kick after that and just stopped following all the rules... except the needle. Still no needles, I was no junkie. But now more than ever I was just that. I spent more and more money on this new better love that I had found. Eventually I "borrowed" some money from petty cash at work and got caught and I no longer had that good job to help me be a functioning sociatal member. I did things after that that make me sick to my stomach as I sit here. I took advantage of trust built over the years by getting large amounts fronted to me with no way to pay it back in the forseeable future. I pawned jewelery that belonged to my deceased grandmother. Near the end when it got really bad I was stealing oxycodone from my grandfather who was dying from Luekemia. My own grandfather who was in incredible pain at the end of his life. I mean he was a terminal cancer patient I am sure he had no trouble getting replaced what I was stealing from him. But if it caused him one day, one hour of extra pain or suffering then I deserve every second of every agonizing moment of withdraw that I experienced in my life and that would not even cover the interest. I was sick. I am sick. I will be sick for the rest of my life. I am an addict. I am a junkie.
I sit here having just written all this way too wordy, incredibly long story of the escalation of my sickness in one sitting while I am 5 days sober. I am in the end stages of the physical WD symptoms right now there are still some there but after the first 3 days of hell this feels like a swedish massage. I stopped cold turkey again but this time it was not to punish myself, or perhaps it was on some subconscious level, but consciously something just clicked off or on or whatever and I realized I have to stop. Not because of the damage I have done to myself and my life but because of the damage I have done to others. Not just to any "others" but people I love. People I love very dearly and some who I will never be able to even try to make amends because they are gone now, like my grandfather. So after considering all the peoples lives I have negatively affected I just mentally lost the desire to continue using or maybe I am taking to much credit and my body and brain realised I am killing them and decided to fight back. I dont know what it was but it feels different this time. I was never very spiritual I do not really have a fear of making amends to the things I have done to make peace with any god. I am not even sure I beleive in any god. I just know this time I really want to stop and I am going to reach out to people this time because I now know that I am ill. I have a disease that I can not defeat on my own any more than I could if it was cancer. I also have no disillusion that just because I think it "feels different" this time that I will win. I know that I have a high chance of relapsing at some point but if I do I will dust myself off and fight again. Because I am lucky enough to have family and friends that still love me enough to help me and hold me accountible. That doesnt even mean I will succeed. But it does mean they give me the chance to succeed if I want to badly enough. If anyone ever reads this and you have read this far there is a good chance that you and I either share this sickness or you have conquered it in the past. If you are the the latter I congratulate you. Anyone who has not been an addict of some kind can never truly appreciate your triumph. It is something to be proud of you defeated the toughest opponent at least I personally ever came across in this life. If you are the former and you are readind this and you too are still plagued by this disease I hope you can take at least something from my words. Maybe learn from my mistakes if you have not already made the same ones. I hope you also choose to fight if it has negatively effected your life the way that is has mine. And I hope you are victorious.
I think when I started writing this it was so I could show people that is was not my fault. How unlucky I was. All the small things that happend that if they were a little bit different just one little thing and I would have avoided temptation and just been a normal person. I mean the last thing I should want to do while I am in the middle of detoxing and withdraws is talk about it and bring it more to my own attention. A sane person would be trying to distract themselves from the pain not talk about it. I may not be sane I do not know. But I know I feel more sane now than I have in a while. Again when I started writing this I wanted to blame my old friend from when I was 19 that traded me that first oxy for a little bit of reefer. I wanted to blame the random chance that some guy who saw an ad for a car I was selling had both the drug itself and the gumption to actually offer it to me. I wanted to blame the drugs themselves for being somehow inherently evil. I wanted someone, anyone to see that it was the fault of these people, things, events that have gotten me to where I am now. But over the course of actually writing it I guess it was theraputic in a way because I realized that none of that is true at all. I made every decision that led me to where I am right now. I was in control of my own destiny. I am still in control of my own destiny. I make the decsisons that both positively and negatively effect my life. The results of those decisions for better or worse are of my own doing. I take responsibility for my actions.
