AcidRAEn
Bluelighter
The past 5 years have been one hell of a roller coaster ride. I graduated from high school back in 2006 and as I was the oldest of three girls being raised by a single father...I had no freedom until that point. I spent the next six years making friends and began my ascent. For the first time in my life I felt free and I experienced happiness. I met like-minded people. I smoked weed and drank and camped and lived out of my truck and it was so much fun. When I started to sell weed I started to meet the junkies. For some reason their misery was intoxicating..perhaps because I had spent so much of my time before then hating life and myself. They flocked to me, told me their darkest thoughts and I felt like I was helping them out in some way. The first time I used a needle I trembled..it was my 19th birthday. After that I didn't use a needle again for quite some time. I didn't have any issues with addiction at this point..everything was just for fun..for the experience. It was edgy and mind-altering and different from the mainstream life all of my peers were living. I was so cool. (ha) I continued on this path for quite some time...and I'm not sure when the misery I had previously felt started leaking back into my life. Suddenly all of these substances weren't for fun, it wasn't for the experience..it was to get by. At some point I had stopped helping those junkies by offering advice...instead I was lamenting right along with them. Previously when I had gone out drinking I knew my limits and I laughed at those who got black-out drunk and made asses of themselves. I prided myself on my ability to get drunk, have fun and not be obnoxious..now I was getting black out drunk every time I walked into a bar.
Then one of my junky buddies moved back to town after being gone for a few years and another friend I had always helped in the past relapsed, and it was a perfect storm. We were either scoring pain pills (oxy's, dilaudid's, methadone's, etc) from the connections around town when we were low on cash or we were driving two hours to score heroin on our paycheck days. I was experiencing withdrawal for the first time. I had witnessed it quite often, had run something of a half-way house in '08, but I had never felt it myself. My best friend who had been on the run with her junky boyfriend came back to town after he was arrested and we moved in together. Things went from bad to worse. We were using multiple times everyday, I was developing track marks and we were getting behind in rent. Then I met Eli. It got even worse. He had even more connects we previously had no access to and suddenly I couldn't even afford $200 rent. It started to really affect my performance at work, I was either nodding out or almost collapsing from withdrawals. Eli and I fell head-over-heels in love. It was the first time that I was a girlfriend..and not just a friend. Although our relationship was built on our drug use we also connected on a deeper level, we both shared a misery, and it just created an inferno. Things came to a head when my friend who had moved back to town got very sick. A bacteria from his mouth had gotten into his bloodstream and shredded his heart. He lasted a month before using again, causing the infection to come back. That time he didn't make it. I visited him on his deathbed, and to this day I cannot forgive myself for how high I was when I held his hand and said good-bye to him.
A few days later I lost my job and we were served with an eviction notice. Seeing my friend die really scared me. He knew that using again would kill him and it STILL wasn't enough to keep him clean. My manager from the restaurant helped get me into rehab. I went to the local community services board but they were only able to get me into a detox. I had planned to go cold-turkey but then found out I could get a metadone taper. They gave me my last dose on the fifth day and showed me the door. I went home more sick than I had been when I first went in. Eli had a buddy who was a manager for a local hotel so he was able to get us a room so that we could sweat out the worst part for a few days. No matter how bad we felt, we still had each other to get through it. A few days later we moved into my father's house. A week later we had started to pick up some methadone's again.
And then...I found out I was pregnant.
It was shocking news. Due to an ovarian cyst I had a few years back it was supposed to be very difficult for me to conceive, and with our heavy drug use I didn't even think I could get pregnant. I was very wrong. The doctor told me I was going to miscarry..so I continued to use (though nowhere near as heavy as our previous use). A month later and still no miscarriage I went to another doctor who told me the fetus was healthy. At this point I knew I had to quit. It was very very difficult to quit, especially with Eli still using.
8 months later I had a beautiful baby boy to take care of, and no desire to use.
3 months later Eli went to jail for a robbery he committed while blacked out on over 100mg of methadone. He had no recollection of the robbery.
A year later and I'm still going strong. I broke down a few months ago after Eli was sentenced to 43 years in prison (with 30 suspended) and did 2 10mg methadone's but all I felt was guilt as I looked at my son's beautiful face and I didn't even enjoy the high. I knew I wouldn't use again.
So, now to get to my point (sorry for this long winded-post but I felt a "brief" explanation of my past experiences was semi-necessary) I don't really know where to go from here. Meaning, I've identified myself for so long as a drug-user, it became who I was. I'm at this weird stage in my life where I'm figuring out who I am as a person, as a mother, as a sober adult. Not many people get the chance to start all over, so I am trying to remain optimistic and view this as a rare opportunity to take full advantage of..but I'd be lying if I didn't say it's completely overwhelming. I'm trying to figure out who my friends are, and who I just did drugs with..and I'm wondering if my friends are ever going to look at me as anything other than a junky. I live in a small town, where everyone knows everyone's business, and I'm worried that no one in this community is going to look at me as anything other than a junky. I keep in touch with my best friend I was living with, she moved to a bigger city and is still a heavy user, so I don't see her often, as I won't allow myself to put my son and I in that situation..but at the same time I feel like I am betraying her in some sense. I still have that overwhelming need to mother the junkies...to try and ease their pain..all while knowing that it's something I need to move away from if I truly want to start over. I just feel guilty being one more person to abandon these guys.
I guess what I'm looking for is some advice, and maybe some encouragement from those who have been clean longer than I. How did you start rebuilding your life? I know it's not easy and I know it won't happen overnight. I just feel so confused sometimes. I can't imagine where I would be right now if I didn't have my little guy, and I don't think I would be clean right now if I didn't have another being who solely depended on me. I know I want to provide him with a good life, so that's a place to start at least. I know this would sound crazy to people who have never struggled with addiction but I'm hoping it makes sense to those of you who have...do you ever figure out who you are?
Then one of my junky buddies moved back to town after being gone for a few years and another friend I had always helped in the past relapsed, and it was a perfect storm. We were either scoring pain pills (oxy's, dilaudid's, methadone's, etc) from the connections around town when we were low on cash or we were driving two hours to score heroin on our paycheck days. I was experiencing withdrawal for the first time. I had witnessed it quite often, had run something of a half-way house in '08, but I had never felt it myself. My best friend who had been on the run with her junky boyfriend came back to town after he was arrested and we moved in together. Things went from bad to worse. We were using multiple times everyday, I was developing track marks and we were getting behind in rent. Then I met Eli. It got even worse. He had even more connects we previously had no access to and suddenly I couldn't even afford $200 rent. It started to really affect my performance at work, I was either nodding out or almost collapsing from withdrawals. Eli and I fell head-over-heels in love. It was the first time that I was a girlfriend..and not just a friend. Although our relationship was built on our drug use we also connected on a deeper level, we both shared a misery, and it just created an inferno. Things came to a head when my friend who had moved back to town got very sick. A bacteria from his mouth had gotten into his bloodstream and shredded his heart. He lasted a month before using again, causing the infection to come back. That time he didn't make it. I visited him on his deathbed, and to this day I cannot forgive myself for how high I was when I held his hand and said good-bye to him.
A few days later I lost my job and we were served with an eviction notice. Seeing my friend die really scared me. He knew that using again would kill him and it STILL wasn't enough to keep him clean. My manager from the restaurant helped get me into rehab. I went to the local community services board but they were only able to get me into a detox. I had planned to go cold-turkey but then found out I could get a metadone taper. They gave me my last dose on the fifth day and showed me the door. I went home more sick than I had been when I first went in. Eli had a buddy who was a manager for a local hotel so he was able to get us a room so that we could sweat out the worst part for a few days. No matter how bad we felt, we still had each other to get through it. A few days later we moved into my father's house. A week later we had started to pick up some methadone's again.
And then...I found out I was pregnant.
It was shocking news. Due to an ovarian cyst I had a few years back it was supposed to be very difficult for me to conceive, and with our heavy drug use I didn't even think I could get pregnant. I was very wrong. The doctor told me I was going to miscarry..so I continued to use (though nowhere near as heavy as our previous use). A month later and still no miscarriage I went to another doctor who told me the fetus was healthy. At this point I knew I had to quit. It was very very difficult to quit, especially with Eli still using.
8 months later I had a beautiful baby boy to take care of, and no desire to use.
3 months later Eli went to jail for a robbery he committed while blacked out on over 100mg of methadone. He had no recollection of the robbery.
A year later and I'm still going strong. I broke down a few months ago after Eli was sentenced to 43 years in prison (with 30 suspended) and did 2 10mg methadone's but all I felt was guilt as I looked at my son's beautiful face and I didn't even enjoy the high. I knew I wouldn't use again.
So, now to get to my point (sorry for this long winded-post but I felt a "brief" explanation of my past experiences was semi-necessary) I don't really know where to go from here. Meaning, I've identified myself for so long as a drug-user, it became who I was. I'm at this weird stage in my life where I'm figuring out who I am as a person, as a mother, as a sober adult. Not many people get the chance to start all over, so I am trying to remain optimistic and view this as a rare opportunity to take full advantage of..but I'd be lying if I didn't say it's completely overwhelming. I'm trying to figure out who my friends are, and who I just did drugs with..and I'm wondering if my friends are ever going to look at me as anything other than a junky. I live in a small town, where everyone knows everyone's business, and I'm worried that no one in this community is going to look at me as anything other than a junky. I keep in touch with my best friend I was living with, she moved to a bigger city and is still a heavy user, so I don't see her often, as I won't allow myself to put my son and I in that situation..but at the same time I feel like I am betraying her in some sense. I still have that overwhelming need to mother the junkies...to try and ease their pain..all while knowing that it's something I need to move away from if I truly want to start over. I just feel guilty being one more person to abandon these guys.
I guess what I'm looking for is some advice, and maybe some encouragement from those who have been clean longer than I. How did you start rebuilding your life? I know it's not easy and I know it won't happen overnight. I just feel so confused sometimes. I can't imagine where I would be right now if I didn't have my little guy, and I don't think I would be clean right now if I didn't have another being who solely depended on me. I know I want to provide him with a good life, so that's a place to start at least. I know this would sound crazy to people who have never struggled with addiction but I'm hoping it makes sense to those of you who have...do you ever figure out who you are?
