Physically I always feel great after taking a shower, like now. Lately, I'm so confused these days because of the many variations of extreme emotions I experience from day to day. For the most part I'm grateful for a lot of shit. Then, I seem to experience frustration for the parts of my life I'm pissed off about, followed by sadness because it seems, no matter how hard I try to solve certain problems, they persist like a motherfucker and just won't go away. Perhaps I was meant to go through this severe kicking phase off the tramadol. Tonight, I'll go down to taking 3 pills as a daily dose from 4 and stay on 3 pills for a month. I don't seem to feel the kick as much taking more time tapering as opposed to before. As much as I sometimes jones for diet pills or even shooting crystal meth again, I tell myself, "No dude the point of not taking dope is so you don't ever have to kick again!"
I had forgotten how awful that felt being completely clean, tramadol included. I haven't been and am currently not on "real" drugs, but this is a definite reminder of the shit I won't have to go through by avoiding real drugs. I've read journals of different dope fiends and Jesus Christ, what a massive waste of money and energy doing stupid bullshit these people keep doing just to stay high. I was at the dentist's office again today getting more work done on my teeth. I didn't have to ask him what he gave me when he numbed me up, because I could feel the epinephrine working it's way through my system. My heart rate all of a sudden went way up, I could feel my pulse in my throat along with the tingling, numbing sensation in and around my mouth. It still bothers me that although being clean has its definite advantages, I'm lacking the intense enthusiasm I used to have for my creative outlets.
"Oh well," I said to myself sighing as I drove around after leaving the dentist doing errands. A jones for meth came on so I told myself, "Fine. You can shoot all the meth you want as soon as you no longer have to worry about hustling your ass having to make a living." All I need is one room to myself to be happy and not having to worry about being too loaded to drive or go to work. Collecting money for my SS benefits is still 18 years away, and it's best to start collecting at age 62 and take less money than it is to wait until you're 65 and get more. Who knows how long we're going to live anyway? If some poor unlucky sods keel over at age 66 or 67, they missed out on money they could have had starting at age 62. Anyway, one of the tools I learned on how to deal with cravings came from this book called, "Sex, Drugs, Gambling, and Chocolate," by Dr. A. Thomas Horvath.
One way to deal with cravings is not to outright tell yourself no, as sometimes one's inner fiend will completely rebell and say "fuck it" let's get loaded, but to put it off to a later date. I've heard of some people that were raging alkies and when their drinking became a threat to their careers, they told themselves they'd wait until they retired. That got them through their work years, but I guess some people get bored, lonely, and depressed after retirement then hit the bottle double time. In the cases of a couple people I heard about, one of those alkies died within 4 months of retirement from drinking too much and the other one died within a 3 years. I could see that happening to me, totally going off the deep end and over fiending on too much dope, but on the other hand like I said for now it works because being clean enables me to do all the annoying day to day responsibilities I refuse to even think about when I'm loaded.
I remember when I had 5 days left in my town house before my eviction date and the job I had at the time was pulling some bullshit deal on me saying they didn't want me to come back to work until I talked to the boss face to face about some alleged lies on my resume. Today, of course I'd have the balls to say, "Look dude do I still have a job yes or no? Don't give me some dumb ass mysterious game because I won't play." Back then, there was no way I was gonna bother wasting half my day dicking around with a job I may or may not still have because that was valuable time taken away from tweeking at home. Same with the damn car not being able to pass smog. Nevermind the fact about the money, but I would be damned if I was gonna dick around standing in some stupid line filled with idiots and incompetent normie state DMV employees because I'd rather be home tweeking on meth and painkillers or hanging in the neighborhood garage full of smack heads and tweekers.
There was a certain comraderie and eccentric fun associated with other dope fiends (even if you couldn't trust them as far as you could spit) because like myself they could be crazy in a fun way that "normal" people could never be. It's still true for me to this day, but the honest truth is that while clean fun has its definite advantages, there are some definite disadvantages too. It's not that one is necessarily better than the other, but different, so it's a trade off pure and simple. And for me, right now I'm forced to be practical. If I had parents like Susie and Scott, or Dave, or Glenn, or Aimee, or even a spouse to support me like Scott, I'd probably be sitting on my ass doing nothing all day, but getting loaded too, but I don't. All the above mentioned people except for Glenn have children though which is probably a good part of the reason their folks give them a free ride.
I don't know, as a practicing junkie, I always had this insane idea that people shouldn't have children that they can't or won't support, so I never did. It's not fair to the kid and I couldn't manage a husband I'd have to pretend to be fooling and always having to answer to, so that leaves me on my own. There's a price to be paid for independence, but it's probably for the best I guess. Maybe when all is said and done I'll be happy that I did more than sit on my ass all the time letting my parents support me my entire life. Actually that sounds terrible as a clean woman, but if I were getting loaded I would of let them go on supporting me if they would. Am I supposed to be doing more with my life? If so, even at 44 years old, with a little over 2 years clean (excluding the tramadol) I don't really fucking know what. The thing is I've never been the ambitious type. I've always expected to have to work for a living, but the last thing I want to do is be a damn workaholic. Sigh. Like I said I'm confused these days. I'm happy, then I'm unhappy. To be honest, I don't know what my fucking problem is.
I had forgotten how awful that felt being completely clean, tramadol included. I haven't been and am currently not on "real" drugs, but this is a definite reminder of the shit I won't have to go through by avoiding real drugs. I've read journals of different dope fiends and Jesus Christ, what a massive waste of money and energy doing stupid bullshit these people keep doing just to stay high. I was at the dentist's office again today getting more work done on my teeth. I didn't have to ask him what he gave me when he numbed me up, because I could feel the epinephrine working it's way through my system. My heart rate all of a sudden went way up, I could feel my pulse in my throat along with the tingling, numbing sensation in and around my mouth. It still bothers me that although being clean has its definite advantages, I'm lacking the intense enthusiasm I used to have for my creative outlets.
"Oh well," I said to myself sighing as I drove around after leaving the dentist doing errands. A jones for meth came on so I told myself, "Fine. You can shoot all the meth you want as soon as you no longer have to worry about hustling your ass having to make a living." All I need is one room to myself to be happy and not having to worry about being too loaded to drive or go to work. Collecting money for my SS benefits is still 18 years away, and it's best to start collecting at age 62 and take less money than it is to wait until you're 65 and get more. Who knows how long we're going to live anyway? If some poor unlucky sods keel over at age 66 or 67, they missed out on money they could have had starting at age 62. Anyway, one of the tools I learned on how to deal with cravings came from this book called, "Sex, Drugs, Gambling, and Chocolate," by Dr. A. Thomas Horvath.
One way to deal with cravings is not to outright tell yourself no, as sometimes one's inner fiend will completely rebell and say "fuck it" let's get loaded, but to put it off to a later date. I've heard of some people that were raging alkies and when their drinking became a threat to their careers, they told themselves they'd wait until they retired. That got them through their work years, but I guess some people get bored, lonely, and depressed after retirement then hit the bottle double time. In the cases of a couple people I heard about, one of those alkies died within 4 months of retirement from drinking too much and the other one died within a 3 years. I could see that happening to me, totally going off the deep end and over fiending on too much dope, but on the other hand like I said for now it works because being clean enables me to do all the annoying day to day responsibilities I refuse to even think about when I'm loaded.
I remember when I had 5 days left in my town house before my eviction date and the job I had at the time was pulling some bullshit deal on me saying they didn't want me to come back to work until I talked to the boss face to face about some alleged lies on my resume. Today, of course I'd have the balls to say, "Look dude do I still have a job yes or no? Don't give me some dumb ass mysterious game because I won't play." Back then, there was no way I was gonna bother wasting half my day dicking around with a job I may or may not still have because that was valuable time taken away from tweeking at home. Same with the damn car not being able to pass smog. Nevermind the fact about the money, but I would be damned if I was gonna dick around standing in some stupid line filled with idiots and incompetent normie state DMV employees because I'd rather be home tweeking on meth and painkillers or hanging in the neighborhood garage full of smack heads and tweekers.
There was a certain comraderie and eccentric fun associated with other dope fiends (even if you couldn't trust them as far as you could spit) because like myself they could be crazy in a fun way that "normal" people could never be. It's still true for me to this day, but the honest truth is that while clean fun has its definite advantages, there are some definite disadvantages too. It's not that one is necessarily better than the other, but different, so it's a trade off pure and simple. And for me, right now I'm forced to be practical. If I had parents like Susie and Scott, or Dave, or Glenn, or Aimee, or even a spouse to support me like Scott, I'd probably be sitting on my ass doing nothing all day, but getting loaded too, but I don't. All the above mentioned people except for Glenn have children though which is probably a good part of the reason their folks give them a free ride.
I don't know, as a practicing junkie, I always had this insane idea that people shouldn't have children that they can't or won't support, so I never did. It's not fair to the kid and I couldn't manage a husband I'd have to pretend to be fooling and always having to answer to, so that leaves me on my own. There's a price to be paid for independence, but it's probably for the best I guess. Maybe when all is said and done I'll be happy that I did more than sit on my ass all the time letting my parents support me my entire life. Actually that sounds terrible as a clean woman, but if I were getting loaded I would of let them go on supporting me if they would. Am I supposed to be doing more with my life? If so, even at 44 years old, with a little over 2 years clean (excluding the tramadol) I don't really fucking know what. The thing is I've never been the ambitious type. I've always expected to have to work for a living, but the last thing I want to do is be a damn workaholic. Sigh. Like I said I'm confused these days. I'm happy, then I'm unhappy. To be honest, I don't know what my fucking problem is.