LA is more my boys scene than Canada with all of it's snow. I mean, snow was all fine and dandy when I was 8 years old and I visited relatives in Ohio with my grandparents. It was one of the few times I'd ever even seen it. As an adult however, it would suck ass, well at least in my case and obviously in Erik's too. You belong in LA babe. So, last Tuesday I was feeling like all flavors of shit as usual, so when I got off work, I went to NA, but I had parked the car and changed my mind. It was Feb 10th. Cody's birthday, my girl Aimee's son who turned 17 that day. I hadn't seen Cody in over a year and he had been released from Juvie last November so I thought I'd stop by and wish him Happy B day and all. Goin to old neighborhoods when I'm feelin vulnerable wanting to get high is a really bad idea, but on the other hand it's not like those people ever have enough dope to go around either cause they're broke all the time.
It's not so much that I had to get high, but merely to stop feeling like fucking crap! The fatigue was way past being too much for me and the only thing that stopped me from asking to score was the fact that I knew meth would make me feel physically better that night, but then I'd have to do some the next night, and the next, and the one after that forever amen, haha. With all my damn bills I couldn't afford it, plus then I'd be tied to the drug all over again. My friends tell me the price is double what I paid in 2006 and only half as potent. So that plan bailed out the window. I didn't realize at the time that part of why I felt so bad was the w/d's I was going through detoxing off ultram. That makes me clean only by a technicality, due to the fact that ultram is technically not a narcotic and it won't show up on a drug test, but contrary to what the pharmacist said, it is addicting. I had cut my pills from 10 a day to 5 a couple weeks ago and finally started to feel better last Wednesday, as my body adjusted to the lower dose.
Every week when I have to shift my body from nights to day shift on Tuesdays makes it fucking difficult, probably contributing to the chronic fatigue. Still, won't know for sure what my problem is until next week from the lab results. I could tell Aimee was on a happy heroin high cause when she saw me, she ran over, gave me one of her beloved bear hugs with lots of kisses. I do love her to bits, but I knew I couldn't ask her for some smack. I just can't get sucked back into a habit even though I physically feel like crap, but I want my magic back damn it all to hell! The creativity was magic during the times I got loaded, in fact even if I couldn't write, I could be happy as a clam confined into a tiny room with nothing but my mind for amusement and that could go on for days, weeks, months as long as I had dope. On the other hand I have to clean up this never ending massive mess that's called my life. I just want to get better already.
I had stopped in my favorite Mexican food joints last week, then Robert came in, saw me and sat down. I hadn't seen him in a while. I'm still making 9th Step payments to him for my amends, then he told me he tried to kill himself last month. "Jesus, Robert WHY?," I asked. His sad eyes told me he'd been dumped by wife to be number 5, he lost more money to her, more business, he said he'd had enough and ended up in some recovery house for depressive episodes. Lost another home. Again. How I know that tune. We talked for a while and I told him what my story was. I guess lately almost everyone has felt like shit it seems for one reason or another. Robert has always been a normie when it came to alcohol and drugs, but he keeps falling for the wrong women and they screw him out of his money every time, and so it was no surprise to me that he lost almost wife number 5, but the suicide gig was a first. He told me he had a 12 step program for sex and love anonymous, SLA, I guess.
Robert has always had to have his drama where women were concerned so that makes him as sick as I am only in a different way. We all have our demons I guess. So I feel blessed that the past 4 nights the fatigue or the w/d's haven't bothered me, but come Tuesday the fatigue is likely to hit me again, although I'll try to keep a positive outlook. Sometimes life is just too damn much for me and it would have been alot better if I'd never picked up that damned ultram. It's what started me jonesin for drugs all over again, when I was fine clean. It's true that it's easier to stay clean than it is to get clean, but the w'ds are gonna come again as I keep reducing my dose. God it sucks. Acute withdrawal. There's nothing cute about withdrawal. I was fighting with myself not to take this addiction back down to the level of acquiring some real drugs. My doc wrote me an Rx for my favorite old time pain killer fiorinal #3, which is a barbiturate with codeine. It's just been sitting at my pharmacy the past few days. I had asked for it so I wouldn't have to go through another episode of a fucking migraine that would not go away even after 3 days.
When I pick them up, I'll turn them over to Mom so I won't be carrying them around in my purse. The fact is my insurance won't cover the cost of my non narcotic migraine headache meds which cost $125 for 6 pills and 6 pills don't last long sometimes. I simply don't have the money so I'm fucked. The doc gave me all the samples of the non narc meds in the office which will hold me for a while, but Mom will have my other Rx as a back up. It looks like things are starting to look up for this country, although it will take time. I wasn't sure I'd live to see a black president, but we needed some new blood in the office. The damn Repubicans weren't so hot and seeing as how the stimulus package passed, maybe Mom can get a reverse mortgage and get out of debt to the friggin banks. Anyway, it was nice to hear from my guy. Love you, miss you too baby boy. Sitting in my apartment shooting up in the big master bedroom is one of the happiest memories I have of life, though I've been doing what I can to make happy new ones in a drug free lifestyle. During the good times it's easy, but not so during the tough times, like now. God bless.
It's not so much that I had to get high, but merely to stop feeling like fucking crap! The fatigue was way past being too much for me and the only thing that stopped me from asking to score was the fact that I knew meth would make me feel physically better that night, but then I'd have to do some the next night, and the next, and the one after that forever amen, haha. With all my damn bills I couldn't afford it, plus then I'd be tied to the drug all over again. My friends tell me the price is double what I paid in 2006 and only half as potent. So that plan bailed out the window. I didn't realize at the time that part of why I felt so bad was the w/d's I was going through detoxing off ultram. That makes me clean only by a technicality, due to the fact that ultram is technically not a narcotic and it won't show up on a drug test, but contrary to what the pharmacist said, it is addicting. I had cut my pills from 10 a day to 5 a couple weeks ago and finally started to feel better last Wednesday, as my body adjusted to the lower dose.
Every week when I have to shift my body from nights to day shift on Tuesdays makes it fucking difficult, probably contributing to the chronic fatigue. Still, won't know for sure what my problem is until next week from the lab results. I could tell Aimee was on a happy heroin high cause when she saw me, she ran over, gave me one of her beloved bear hugs with lots of kisses. I do love her to bits, but I knew I couldn't ask her for some smack. I just can't get sucked back into a habit even though I physically feel like crap, but I want my magic back damn it all to hell! The creativity was magic during the times I got loaded, in fact even if I couldn't write, I could be happy as a clam confined into a tiny room with nothing but my mind for amusement and that could go on for days, weeks, months as long as I had dope. On the other hand I have to clean up this never ending massive mess that's called my life. I just want to get better already.
I had stopped in my favorite Mexican food joints last week, then Robert came in, saw me and sat down. I hadn't seen him in a while. I'm still making 9th Step payments to him for my amends, then he told me he tried to kill himself last month. "Jesus, Robert WHY?," I asked. His sad eyes told me he'd been dumped by wife to be number 5, he lost more money to her, more business, he said he'd had enough and ended up in some recovery house for depressive episodes. Lost another home. Again. How I know that tune. We talked for a while and I told him what my story was. I guess lately almost everyone has felt like shit it seems for one reason or another. Robert has always been a normie when it came to alcohol and drugs, but he keeps falling for the wrong women and they screw him out of his money every time, and so it was no surprise to me that he lost almost wife number 5, but the suicide gig was a first. He told me he had a 12 step program for sex and love anonymous, SLA, I guess.
Robert has always had to have his drama where women were concerned so that makes him as sick as I am only in a different way. We all have our demons I guess. So I feel blessed that the past 4 nights the fatigue or the w/d's haven't bothered me, but come Tuesday the fatigue is likely to hit me again, although I'll try to keep a positive outlook. Sometimes life is just too damn much for me and it would have been alot better if I'd never picked up that damned ultram. It's what started me jonesin for drugs all over again, when I was fine clean. It's true that it's easier to stay clean than it is to get clean, but the w'ds are gonna come again as I keep reducing my dose. God it sucks. Acute withdrawal. There's nothing cute about withdrawal. I was fighting with myself not to take this addiction back down to the level of acquiring some real drugs. My doc wrote me an Rx for my favorite old time pain killer fiorinal #3, which is a barbiturate with codeine. It's just been sitting at my pharmacy the past few days. I had asked for it so I wouldn't have to go through another episode of a fucking migraine that would not go away even after 3 days.
When I pick them up, I'll turn them over to Mom so I won't be carrying them around in my purse. The fact is my insurance won't cover the cost of my non narcotic migraine headache meds which cost $125 for 6 pills and 6 pills don't last long sometimes. I simply don't have the money so I'm fucked. The doc gave me all the samples of the non narc meds in the office which will hold me for a while, but Mom will have my other Rx as a back up. It looks like things are starting to look up for this country, although it will take time. I wasn't sure I'd live to see a black president, but we needed some new blood in the office. The damn Repubicans weren't so hot and seeing as how the stimulus package passed, maybe Mom can get a reverse mortgage and get out of debt to the friggin banks. Anyway, it was nice to hear from my guy. Love you, miss you too baby boy. Sitting in my apartment shooting up in the big master bedroom is one of the happiest memories I have of life, though I've been doing what I can to make happy new ones in a drug free lifestyle. During the good times it's easy, but not so during the tough times, like now. God bless.
