I need to examine my life and change and do it soon. But ironically if I am straight I am more deluded and in denial than when I am high.
Not that I'm exactly ever ravingly off my face. My DOCs are booze and Dex.
Was deluding myself for months that the Dex thing was okay because it was helping me drink less and seemed only thing that enabled me to get out of bed.
Only a few months ago I was managing on 25 mgs per day - but now a "moderate" day on Dex for me is 50 mgs (10 x 5mg tabs). Most days it's at least 15 x 5mg tabs.
The last few weeks I've been flat out bingeing and have fallen into a pattern of 20-25 tabs over 24 hours, followed up by loads of booze plus Valium or Xanax and then 24 hours at least of bedridden exhaustion.
Of course once that passes I ALWAYS think and BELIEVE "oh I'll just have 4 or 5 today...". Then the 4 or 5 Dex start to wear off and I feel flat, so I drink, to avoid taking Dex, and then under the influence of drink end up taking more Dex ...
The non-Dex days are just non-days.
There is nothing I want to do unless I have Dex. (Sorry this is a trifle repetitive).
I don't want to do anything or speak to anyone. I don't want to try. What is there to "try"?
I'm usually flat ass broke for three or four days per fortnight ..because of how expensive the Dex is.
If I don't have any Dex I begin my day with a big mug of red wine and I just drink steadily all day,,usually lying in bed reading books about serial killers or concentration camps.
If I don't even have wine I take mirtazapine and try to kill the time by sleeping as much as possible.
Actually I prefer the wine routine - being an alcoholic "shut in" reading rubbishy books isnt much to shout about, but it seems less abominable than pretending to be dead for 72 hours on Mirtazapine/benzoes..
I missed my therapy group last week because I had no Dex and was too hungover the next morning to make it. I despise myself because I called up and said there had been a "crisis" with my dad.
I really wanted to give group a proper try. I just didn't have enough pills. Which begs the question: can I be said to be "giving it a proper try" if I refuse to go unless I am artificially perky?
Anyway it's a "closed" group and my counsellor warned me that if I missed more sessions I can't attend anymore ... flakes aren't welcome, and I can understand that - the premise is progress by getting to know each other properly, and obviously dickheads just dropping in when they feel like it would fuck that up ...
I still have my one-on-one sessions available if I want them. I'd like to just tell my counsellor the truth: that I didn't show because I got ripped. But I've got residual paranoia about such admissions because of years of family court torture, when I learned that EVERYTHING can be subpoenaed, and hence lied habitually to ever doctor and psychologist I ever saw. I had to back then...I don't have to now: my counsellor has promised she won't blow the whistle on me just for illegal usages of anything ...but it's a bloody hard habit to break, misleading doctors and psychs and saying "oh I'm basically fine". I just seem to do it reflexively now.
I'm a long way gone...
Lost my courage. Lost my desire. I am too apathetic without Dex and/or booze to want anything. Too apathetic,,sometimes, to even ...enjoy eating. To even want to eat when I am hungry. To even open a curtain. It's scary. Where've I gone?
Had a scary dream the other night about Dex. In the dream there was a prison. There were crusts of bread that were left overs from the last meals of hanged men. The other prisoners were desperate for this bread, because it made you feel amazingly strong and clever and tireless. It was called "The Bread of Hell".
Not that I'm exactly ever ravingly off my face. My DOCs are booze and Dex.
Was deluding myself for months that the Dex thing was okay because it was helping me drink less and seemed only thing that enabled me to get out of bed.
Only a few months ago I was managing on 25 mgs per day - but now a "moderate" day on Dex for me is 50 mgs (10 x 5mg tabs). Most days it's at least 15 x 5mg tabs.
The last few weeks I've been flat out bingeing and have fallen into a pattern of 20-25 tabs over 24 hours, followed up by loads of booze plus Valium or Xanax and then 24 hours at least of bedridden exhaustion.
Of course once that passes I ALWAYS think and BELIEVE "oh I'll just have 4 or 5 today...". Then the 4 or 5 Dex start to wear off and I feel flat, so I drink, to avoid taking Dex, and then under the influence of drink end up taking more Dex ...
The non-Dex days are just non-days.
There is nothing I want to do unless I have Dex. (Sorry this is a trifle repetitive).
I don't want to do anything or speak to anyone. I don't want to try. What is there to "try"?
I'm usually flat ass broke for three or four days per fortnight ..because of how expensive the Dex is.
If I don't have any Dex I begin my day with a big mug of red wine and I just drink steadily all day,,usually lying in bed reading books about serial killers or concentration camps.
If I don't even have wine I take mirtazapine and try to kill the time by sleeping as much as possible.
Actually I prefer the wine routine - being an alcoholic "shut in" reading rubbishy books isnt much to shout about, but it seems less abominable than pretending to be dead for 72 hours on Mirtazapine/benzoes..
I missed my therapy group last week because I had no Dex and was too hungover the next morning to make it. I despise myself because I called up and said there had been a "crisis" with my dad.
I really wanted to give group a proper try. I just didn't have enough pills. Which begs the question: can I be said to be "giving it a proper try" if I refuse to go unless I am artificially perky?
Anyway it's a "closed" group and my counsellor warned me that if I missed more sessions I can't attend anymore ... flakes aren't welcome, and I can understand that - the premise is progress by getting to know each other properly, and obviously dickheads just dropping in when they feel like it would fuck that up ...
I still have my one-on-one sessions available if I want them. I'd like to just tell my counsellor the truth: that I didn't show because I got ripped. But I've got residual paranoia about such admissions because of years of family court torture, when I learned that EVERYTHING can be subpoenaed, and hence lied habitually to ever doctor and psychologist I ever saw. I had to back then...I don't have to now: my counsellor has promised she won't blow the whistle on me just for illegal usages of anything ...but it's a bloody hard habit to break, misleading doctors and psychs and saying "oh I'm basically fine". I just seem to do it reflexively now.
I'm a long way gone...
Lost my courage. Lost my desire. I am too apathetic without Dex and/or booze to want anything. Too apathetic,,sometimes, to even ...enjoy eating. To even want to eat when I am hungry. To even open a curtain. It's scary. Where've I gone?
Had a scary dream the other night about Dex. In the dream there was a prison. There were crusts of bread that were left overs from the last meals of hanged men. The other prisoners were desperate for this bread, because it made you feel amazingly strong and clever and tireless. It was called "The Bread of Hell".
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