This is one of the intimate old entries from one of my REAL diaries - I've decided I will add some of these so you can get to know who I used to be....
Warning: some of these are pretty hard-hitting and may be upsetting/triggering.
I'm just picking up random diaries and opening at different pages.
To quote Alice Cooper: WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE
Dec 15, 2004 (age 20) - TRYING UNSUCCESSFULLY TO DETOX
Well, two more days have passed where I've done nothing at all. Well I've constantly tried to ring Laura but still no one's answering. All I want for Christmas is my friend back. Unfortunately if she's making me choose (as I have a dreaded feeling she might be) between her and methamphetamine, both of us know what will win. It seems to be chemically impossible for me to stay straight. I couldn't even manage a day! I got thoroughly tweaked yesterday, finished off that ounce today...
Marika was helpful on Tuesday - but I can tell she's starting to believe in me a little less. When I told her what happened with Laura she said 'what's happening to you, Lydia?'
I had to admit that what was happening was I was fucked-up on P again. Marika agreed! She said that basically if I couldn't get it together over the New Year and if this detox doesn't work then I'm going to have to look at rehab again, whether it's the Bridge or a longer-term program.
God, I'd rather die a painful P-influenced death than end up back at Odyssey!
You'd think that would have scared me into dropping the needle!
I said how I didn't think I was so addicted that I was like I was before and I was terrified of going back to rehab.
Marika said I should be more terrified of ending up the way I was when I first came to CADS.
I left CADS determined to get through this awful fortnight!
You know I don't think I can live without meth. It's like that guy says on '28 Days': 'If straight people only knew how wrong it felt for an addict to be straight they would never dream of asking you to go straight'! Or, as Ozzy Osbourne says (sings): 'If you could be inside my head - you'd see that black and white is red.' I always interpret that as meaning that it doesn't make sense to an outsider, but logic doesn't apply when you've got an addiction.
I love that song ('Flying High Again') because it's so true!
Mum tried to get my head off the shit when she got home, by taking me over to see Mav. Bad idea. She's been reading my 'Getting Through Amphetamine Withdrawal' booklet and really thinks that I can distract myself out of craving P...with my horse who I used to compete like a pro on, tweaking!
Maverick was not pleased to see me. He was in a cranky mood, probably thinking I was going to ride him when his back's sore. I fed him a handful of carrots and put my arms round his neck. I checked his cover was on properly and felt the lumps on his back - which seem to be going down again.
He had his ears flat against his head and his lip was curled.
Okay, I'm not the fucking horse whisperer but I know that means I should have backed off. But I'm, as is obvious, not a person with a sensible bone in my body and instead I gave him another hug. I just needed to feel some comfort - God knows, I don't feel like very many people care or understand what I'm feeling.
Maverick's not meant to understand but a warm, silky hug with a gentle animal is comforting enough. Unfortunately, Maverick isn't a gentle animal - he's a young, highly-strung, stand-offish horse who was gelded much too late. He's the equivalent of an equine methhead....and you don't try to get close to a grumpy methhead or you practically get your kidneys dislocated.
Unlike a methhead, Maverick has a good set of fangs. These fangs attached themselves around my side and he tossed me to the ground. It hurt so bad I had tears in my eyes and I don't normally cry over physical pain. I think part of it was emotional actually - the hurt of my beloved horse biting me.
I know animals don't do things like that out of spite but everyone seems to be out to get me at the moment.
NB. Marika was my drug counsellor for 5yrs (ie. till the beginning of this yr - she became more like...well she calls me her 'sister') then she moved to another city.
CADS stands for 'Community Alcohol and Drug Services' (its free here and covers counselling for addicts, family/friends of addicts, group education for ppl trying to kick, detox services and methadone services - best of all, its harm reduction-based, though you can choose to try and become abstinent) - I still continue to go to them for counselling services.
Warning: some of these are pretty hard-hitting and may be upsetting/triggering.
I'm just picking up random diaries and opening at different pages.
To quote Alice Cooper: WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE
Dec 15, 2004 (age 20) - TRYING UNSUCCESSFULLY TO DETOX
Well, two more days have passed where I've done nothing at all. Well I've constantly tried to ring Laura but still no one's answering. All I want for Christmas is my friend back. Unfortunately if she's making me choose (as I have a dreaded feeling she might be) between her and methamphetamine, both of us know what will win. It seems to be chemically impossible for me to stay straight. I couldn't even manage a day! I got thoroughly tweaked yesterday, finished off that ounce today...
Marika was helpful on Tuesday - but I can tell she's starting to believe in me a little less. When I told her what happened with Laura she said 'what's happening to you, Lydia?'
I had to admit that what was happening was I was fucked-up on P again. Marika agreed! She said that basically if I couldn't get it together over the New Year and if this detox doesn't work then I'm going to have to look at rehab again, whether it's the Bridge or a longer-term program.
God, I'd rather die a painful P-influenced death than end up back at Odyssey!
You'd think that would have scared me into dropping the needle!
I said how I didn't think I was so addicted that I was like I was before and I was terrified of going back to rehab.
Marika said I should be more terrified of ending up the way I was when I first came to CADS.
I left CADS determined to get through this awful fortnight!
You know I don't think I can live without meth. It's like that guy says on '28 Days': 'If straight people only knew how wrong it felt for an addict to be straight they would never dream of asking you to go straight'! Or, as Ozzy Osbourne says (sings): 'If you could be inside my head - you'd see that black and white is red.' I always interpret that as meaning that it doesn't make sense to an outsider, but logic doesn't apply when you've got an addiction.
I love that song ('Flying High Again') because it's so true!
Mum tried to get my head off the shit when she got home, by taking me over to see Mav. Bad idea. She's been reading my 'Getting Through Amphetamine Withdrawal' booklet and really thinks that I can distract myself out of craving P...with my horse who I used to compete like a pro on, tweaking!
Maverick was not pleased to see me. He was in a cranky mood, probably thinking I was going to ride him when his back's sore. I fed him a handful of carrots and put my arms round his neck. I checked his cover was on properly and felt the lumps on his back - which seem to be going down again.
He had his ears flat against his head and his lip was curled.
Okay, I'm not the fucking horse whisperer but I know that means I should have backed off. But I'm, as is obvious, not a person with a sensible bone in my body and instead I gave him another hug. I just needed to feel some comfort - God knows, I don't feel like very many people care or understand what I'm feeling.
Maverick's not meant to understand but a warm, silky hug with a gentle animal is comforting enough. Unfortunately, Maverick isn't a gentle animal - he's a young, highly-strung, stand-offish horse who was gelded much too late. He's the equivalent of an equine methhead....and you don't try to get close to a grumpy methhead or you practically get your kidneys dislocated.
Unlike a methhead, Maverick has a good set of fangs. These fangs attached themselves around my side and he tossed me to the ground. It hurt so bad I had tears in my eyes and I don't normally cry over physical pain. I think part of it was emotional actually - the hurt of my beloved horse biting me.
I know animals don't do things like that out of spite but everyone seems to be out to get me at the moment.
NB. Marika was my drug counsellor for 5yrs (ie. till the beginning of this yr - she became more like...well she calls me her 'sister') then she moved to another city.
CADS stands for 'Community Alcohol and Drug Services' (its free here and covers counselling for addicts, family/friends of addicts, group education for ppl trying to kick, detox services and methadone services - best of all, its harm reduction-based, though you can choose to try and become abstinent) - I still continue to go to them for counselling services.
