Brokenbeyondrepair722
Greenlighter
Hello Hominids,
It has been a while since last time I posted an update. I do not want to leave the people who care for me here hanging, but I have been through changes that have simultaneously hurt, worried, bewildered, and empowered. I finally after so many years of IV meth use I put it down and walked away. It felt impossible at certain points, and I could not tell those around me either because I can't keep a roof over my head and admit to my drug use. So, I had very little support, I told my father that it was the flu, and because he is drug naive he was not able to piece together what was actually happening. My father is the most amazing man I have ever had the displeasure of disappointing. Until now, I slept so hard (hardest and longest sleep I have ever had) I ate and tried to keep things as healthy as possible. I also started working out today, and although my arms are so much better, they are still torn up. I wore a short-sleeve shirt, and I ran on the treadmill. (It was so humiliating and equally freeing). Quitting left me with the feeling that strong hands were kneading my muscles under the skin on my arms and legs. I am struggling with the changes in my body shape, I have gained weight and I am trying to keep my anorexia in remission, but when the meth train stops, the anorexia train slowly begins to chug for me.
I did this because I had slipped so far that I was unable to make eye contact with anyone. I was always sweaty and overamped, and so ashamed to be around anyone who was innocent or a good person. I quit on my own, and now that the physical withdrawal has calmed to PAWS. The real hard stuff begins, breaking and undoing the psychological addiction. Meth unleashes dopamine at a level that is unmatched, and I could not stop worrying as I was quitting that I will never feel joy again, that I have permanently altered my brain and destroyed my potential. I have wasted so much time, lost so many jobs, I have lost people's trust, and I have lost so many parts of myself. As the crowd I hung around with to just not be alone while high started to get older, I am 27, and they were all that age, some of them were in their thirties. The party had ended, and all of us could not leave. I was tired of sitting naked in a musty bedroom, wondering what the red stain on the blanket stapled over the windows was. Watching a "friend." try to bang another "friend." but only pushing his softie against them. I was going to do a big shot .60 and I saw some of the people watching me and waiting for me to become disinhibited after administering. I went to the bathroom and locked the door, and after doing the shot I threw up, got too hot, and with throw up on my hands I tried to que up some shitty porn on my broken phone. I wanted to die, I went home and I could not bring myself to dump out my bag, so I kept it just incase I could not go without. I made it one week, then two, then three. I had my good friend come over and clean my room while I laid in bed unable to form a sentence or even sit up and suck in my gut. My friend found my bag and took it without my knowledge. After a month I was planning on getting home and doing a little, not through my arm but just swallowed. I found that the bag was gone and I looked and looked. after thirteen minutes the craving passed and I saw the tape all the way through.
I am so thankful for my friends, and I am so thankful for the Ryan White Program, I am so thankful for the love and patience of my father, I am so thankful for the memories, and the beautiful years I spent with my mother who loved me so so much, and I am grateful for all of you angels here. Especially Keif Richards for his empowering words, his kindness, and insight he gives in every post.
(I am sorry for the scatter brained post, and the choppy language and story. I am still working on regaining some mental clarity, go figure you get clean and you look better but I am dumb)
It has been a while since last time I posted an update. I do not want to leave the people who care for me here hanging, but I have been through changes that have simultaneously hurt, worried, bewildered, and empowered. I finally after so many years of IV meth use I put it down and walked away. It felt impossible at certain points, and I could not tell those around me either because I can't keep a roof over my head and admit to my drug use. So, I had very little support, I told my father that it was the flu, and because he is drug naive he was not able to piece together what was actually happening. My father is the most amazing man I have ever had the displeasure of disappointing. Until now, I slept so hard (hardest and longest sleep I have ever had) I ate and tried to keep things as healthy as possible. I also started working out today, and although my arms are so much better, they are still torn up. I wore a short-sleeve shirt, and I ran on the treadmill. (It was so humiliating and equally freeing). Quitting left me with the feeling that strong hands were kneading my muscles under the skin on my arms and legs. I am struggling with the changes in my body shape, I have gained weight and I am trying to keep my anorexia in remission, but when the meth train stops, the anorexia train slowly begins to chug for me.
I did this because I had slipped so far that I was unable to make eye contact with anyone. I was always sweaty and overamped, and so ashamed to be around anyone who was innocent or a good person. I quit on my own, and now that the physical withdrawal has calmed to PAWS. The real hard stuff begins, breaking and undoing the psychological addiction. Meth unleashes dopamine at a level that is unmatched, and I could not stop worrying as I was quitting that I will never feel joy again, that I have permanently altered my brain and destroyed my potential. I have wasted so much time, lost so many jobs, I have lost people's trust, and I have lost so many parts of myself. As the crowd I hung around with to just not be alone while high started to get older, I am 27, and they were all that age, some of them were in their thirties. The party had ended, and all of us could not leave. I was tired of sitting naked in a musty bedroom, wondering what the red stain on the blanket stapled over the windows was. Watching a "friend." try to bang another "friend." but only pushing his softie against them. I was going to do a big shot .60 and I saw some of the people watching me and waiting for me to become disinhibited after administering. I went to the bathroom and locked the door, and after doing the shot I threw up, got too hot, and with throw up on my hands I tried to que up some shitty porn on my broken phone. I wanted to die, I went home and I could not bring myself to dump out my bag, so I kept it just incase I could not go without. I made it one week, then two, then three. I had my good friend come over and clean my room while I laid in bed unable to form a sentence or even sit up and suck in my gut. My friend found my bag and took it without my knowledge. After a month I was planning on getting home and doing a little, not through my arm but just swallowed. I found that the bag was gone and I looked and looked. after thirteen minutes the craving passed and I saw the tape all the way through.
I am so thankful for my friends, and I am so thankful for the Ryan White Program, I am so thankful for the love and patience of my father, I am so thankful for the memories, and the beautiful years I spent with my mother who loved me so so much, and I am grateful for all of you angels here. Especially Keif Richards for his empowering words, his kindness, and insight he gives in every post.
(I am sorry for the scatter brained post, and the choppy language and story. I am still working on regaining some mental clarity, go figure you get clean and you look better but I am dumb)
