sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

I find myself watching that show on A & E INTERVENTION from time to time. Sometimes I get sucked right into the addicts story of woe while other times, the addict ends up infuriating me so much that I fear I'll end up giving myself a stroke! I know that every addict is different and so is their tolerance, etc but you'll be hard pressed to convince me that someone who has just been using for a couple of years is going to have as difficult a time kicking then someone who has used for a couple of decades. Whatever, that's not really what has got me all fired up!

I am very much aware that there are a whole lot of people who drink or drug so that they are able to escape or forget some awful past trauma, or to self medicate either diagnosed or undiagnosed mental health issues. I also think that there are a whole lot of us out there who drink or take drugs just cause they like to drink or take drugs! I was most definitely one of them.

It's often much more difficult to watch the addicts support group as they struggle to come to terms with their addict and his/her behaviour. Without exception, they all seem to have a tendency to blame themselves in some way for the addicts problems. Maybe that's true in some cases, but I suspect that more often than naught, it is not at all related. Maybe they're simply being too hard on themselves. Certainly if they actually did something terrible, then my guess is that they already know it. So, if they are unable to actually think of anything that they could have done to cause them to drink or drug then there probably isn't anything at all. They should attempt to move on and stop torturing themselves with guilt, vainly searching for that traumatic event that caused their loved one to become an addict. They may simply have to accept that perhaps their addict does what they do simply because they love getting drunk or high for this and this alone.

I wished many times when I was young and immature and arrogant that I had something in my past to be tortured about. It's a lot more romantic and punk rock if your life is filled with some sort of angst! Unfortunately for me, I was as far removed from that lifestyle than one could possibly imagine - now, since my late teens and early twenties, I've since managed to change all of that and wish that I didn't have some of the baggage I've now managed to accumulate in the past two decades!

I was fortunate enough to be raised by involved, loving and kind parents, given every middle class advantage. I did exceptionally well in school. earning a full paying scholarship to university upon my high school graduation. I was a lifeguard at our local pool every summer and worked as a waitress at the local truck stop during the school year. I had more than enough friends and no terrible, life altering story to tell about my teen years or even any tease worthy physical defects. I had what many would consider an idyllic childhood and yet, I still managed to spend two and a half decades abusing substances as if this were my true life's calling.

I discovered booze in my mid teens, and I loved it. I mean, I couldn’t believe how much I loved it. I then managed to spend the next many years of my life enjoying it to great excess. I drank because I liked getting drunk too much. It fit just right inside my mind. Eventually, of course, the drinking got less fun, certainly less exciting, and in fact, actually started to get boring. It never got to the point where my drinking interfered with my work or life but still I could see that if I didn't reign myself in that I'd be unable to maintain the status quo much longer.

Drinking was much easier to walk away from simply because I had something newer and shinier to replace it with. I still had a pretty idyllic life even though I'd since been through a couple of really nasty relationships but even so, I never used any of this as an excuse to continue my substance abusing lifestyle. I had now simply integrated this into my everyday routine. Even at the very end of my final out of control opiate addiction two and a half years ago, I was never, ever using because of some awful trauma that I was trying desperately to suppress. To the end, and I mean to my absolute final hit with that syringe filled with about 12mg of dilaudid, I was using simply because I loved to use. End of sentence, full stop. Period.

In the end, it doesn't matter much how you got yourself addicted, once you are, you have a struggle ahead of you, and I don’t think that falling into addiction this way is any “worse” than falling into addiction and abuse for any other reason. Nobody plans to become a desperate drunk or drug addict, certainly not initially or intentionally, although as a species, we seem to be hardwired to seek out pleasure – and for those of us that seem to get more pleasure out of a drink and drugs than others, it’s understandable why we might get ourselves into trouble.

Gobshite?

I have been tossing and turning since I posted that last post. Mostly because it somehow feels like self serving gobshite ( a word I can't seem to get out of my head). Fuckery.

It isn't. Fuckery, that is. Self serving- perhaps. Fuckery? No.

It's just that I came from such fabulous insanity, and the only way I could spend my life, intimately, with someone else is if they, too, experienced insanity. Why?

I don't know, other than that is the only thing that ever felt right. I needed someone that was broken- too.

But, there is a catch to this broken. Who ever I was to be with had to be broken, but then they had to pull themselves up from the depth of despair with their finger nails and chose to live for themselves. Chose to live well, despite the odds. Fuck the odds.

What would you expect of a little girl who spent the first conscious years of her life in the grips of a man who laughed at her as she wore the mess of his abuse? And, who had to laugh with him, or he would give her something to cry about. Then this little girl spent occasional Sundays submersed in alcohol induced insanity- with her real father who she didn't know and never would. And grandparents, one of which who only grabbed her preteen breast on special holidays, when he was really drunk, after her grandmother urged her physically to "sit on your futhers knee . Go...veronna(again, she meant grandfather)." The cheek of him and her.

Where would you expect that little girl to be? On the street, selling her body? You wouldn't be alone. I saw it in there eyes as I grew up, rebellious- they thought I was there.

Oh, dear.

And then there is a boy.

This isn't a sad story- although, I understand it evokes that emotion. It is just a story about a girl and a boy, who against the odds grew up, grew up to want something more for themselves. Chose to live well, to live happy. Then they met each other.

Considering my requirement of having someone in my life that could appreciate life the same way I did and do, I think that the odds are incredibly small that, who ever that person was, that they wouldn't have addiction issues. I think, that I am not addicted to anything more sever than cigarettes is amazing.

So, there it is. Beside me stands a man that can understand and know where I came from and I him- and, we don't have to talk about it. It just happens, that after all that, he is a heroin addict... in recovery.

My point being- sometimes it's not that people choose to stay with an addict, they chose to stay with someone that has an addiction.

I think there is a difference. I know there is.

mantra: there but for the grace of god go I

Clean to dirty in the blink of an eye (THE REASON RELAPSES SUCK ASS!)

This is a post that should probably be on my personal blog; I am not sure the reason for posting it here. Well, other than Scout's request for fresh material. So what the hell, maybe it will do some other hurting soul some good.

I almost relapsed to night. No wait, relapse is to pretty of a word, it's too much a recovery word, and not being one in recovery, and what I did or almost did tonight being pretty fucking ugly, let's just call it what it was; I almost slammed some dope tonight. Yup, no I am not talking about smoking some weed, or taking a drink. I am not even talking about doing some lightweight opiate like a few Vicodins. No, I went straight to the connection's house to score some dope in order to "fix" a gram straight to my head.

I was sitting in Costco, eating a polish dog and drinking a coke. I had had a particularly bad day, well as far as bad days go for me, and I have more than my fair share, today was a fucking shitty day, which fell on the heels of a shitty week, and is standing before a pretty bleak and shitty near future. Now I preach about staying in the moment as often as possible, and well, maybe this is the exact reason one should do so as often as possible. See already earlier in the day I had considered using, after all it was just the night before I had be asked if perhaps I was using again. Being a few days shy of 90's sober, meaning without heroin, but with the use of methadone. I took offense, I mean how dare she question my sobriety, I'm fucking 90 days clean, WTF, and to top it off, I am in the exact same spot every time she had ever asked and I had lied. Meaning not once had she ever asked if I was using when I wasn't using, except last night. I was pissed off. I was indigent, but fuck, even if I was using, it's not like it's her fucking business anyway, I am outta here in two fucking weeks, what's it to her anyway. Those were my exact thoughts the night before.

So I sat in Costco, like I said, eating my polish dog, and I think to myself, who has dope? See, I had already made the leap from; well if I am getting blamed, I might as well do it. to; I hurt so fucking bad, and muscle memory of how all of that washes away in the matter of seconds. to: I just got pissed test at the clinic, so I am good for at least 3 weeks. to: I am on methadone, meaning I can use just tonight, be back on my dose tomorrow, no worries of an extended "relapse" (was I used that word, at that time). to: I am on methadone, so I better get a full gram, because a half gram might not be enough and I want to get good and loaded. to: calling the one person I know who still uses. This happened all in a nano second, all on a subconscious level, but nevertheless, it sent the conscious Ej. into direct action. That is the only way I can explain the process of a relapse for this junkie. The only way I can tell you what happened, was because I never went through with it.

Turns out this person happens to be hold, he has 3 grams, but they are $60 per. Fuck, I don't really want to spend $60. But make no mistake, if I can't get it for less, $60 it is. I say I am on my way over, and head over. But I had already made another leap, one I forgot in the first set of leaps, and that one was: I will stop at the main connects house and see what's going, what kind of deal he'll give me. Side Note: This is the very same connection who for the last 8 months of my last run, I had worked for. I had free dope and an extra $2K a month in my pocket, all for making 3 or 4 deliveries a week. But near the end, someone got busted, and I am a smart man, I knew that by this particular individuals arrest, meant trouble for the organization I was involved in. I cut my losses, and bailed. Gave up the $2k a month and the free dope, went back to paying wholesale prices until I got back on MMT.

As it turns out this was a very wise decision. As I learn at the connections house, they came for him about a month ago, and they subsequently raided everyone who worked for him at the same time. These were all the people I had worked with just months prior. This could have been me. This was me. As he told me the story, all I could think was, thank god I got the fuck out. They didnt get the connection, he was smart, he used people, they were the one's who got busted. While I listed to his story all I could think is thank god I am not in this life anymore. He lost his kids, of course he would get them back, he could afford those high priced attorneys. But fuck, that could have been me that went down with the 6 or 7 others. That was me. I didn't even bother to ask about the dope, I knew he wouldn't have any, and by that time, I had lost all interest.

I was walking to the car, thinking about how blessed I was. How I had almost made a huge mistake, how had I not left the world when I did, I would have had made an even bigger mistake. I thought about how good it felt not to NEED to get loaded like so many times before. I thought about how good it felt not to wake up every morning with that same need. How good it felt that I wasn't lying to my family about using. About how proud I was that I could look at my daughters and not feel shame over being loaded, or worse, waiting for them to go away so I could sneak off to get a hit. I thought about all my beautiful, wonderful friends, that would be crushed if I had done it. I felt such relief of not having to eventually admit it and not have had let anyone down. How those things meant something to me for the first time in my life. I had never cared about how what I had done or was going to do would affect anyone. No addict does, we are selfish and self centered people who are self involved. I was happy. I thought about all these things not in a nano second, but I thought about each one, as if time had stopped. I went over each and every detail, I felt the feelings, I relived the moments, I played them over and over and over again. Then as I got to my car, I got a text message. It was from D, it was a picture of my daughters. I just smiled. It was a message from God, he was smiling upon me. He was basking me in his light. He was showing me the exact reasons I made the decision I did, that I had made the right decision, and that I had answered to a high calling. It was beautiful, it was magical and ultimately divine.

Until the next day, which is all gloriously posted in the comments section and you can all read about my true insanity there.

Re: A Spoon

I recently read JW's beautiful post that was used for the article in the San Diego Reader, and it is very moving. If you haven't read this yet, please go read it first, it really is a deeply moving piece of writing. It brought back strong memories of my early stages of recovery (I have been recovering or attempting to for about 10 years). I could very much relate to exactly what she was going through, and as an addict, what she was being put through. I wrote her an email to share my thought's on the post, and with the recent topic of lying (one of the ugliest parts of addiction), well, I felt that this went well with the entire topic of addiction and wanted to share it with everyone.

This is a quote from her post in reference to her asking her husband why he would use again after having been clean for a period of time:

"All he would say is that his friend asked him if he wanted to use, and he said yes, and then they got the drugs."

Here is my comment, with some added content to expand on ideas and thoughts:

I remember those times, when I first tried to recover, I would spend months clean, maybe going to meetings, maybe not. I would avoid my "friends" who were still using, even though I may have stupidly hung out with them before and not got loaded; then BHAM! "Let's get high." That's all it takes, a stupid little idea, three little words, that's it, that's all it took. Whether I had the idea alone, or I came up with it while with a friend, there is no thought process involved, the idea is formed, and immediate action is taken; this is where the addiction takes over. Any ability to think, to separate right from wrong, any bit of conscious that attempts to remind you of the past consequences of the very same decision is thrown by the way side, as the addiction takes over. If thoughts do arise questioning the decision you have just made, they are so easily dismissed, they slide so quickly to the side and are replaced with confirmation that everything will be okay, 'I'm only going to do it once, only today,' and the addiction takes over. From then on it's all muscle memory, the ability to think is lost, there are no thoughts of wifes, or girlfriends, promises and vows, no thoughts of consequences or where this decision will lead; as an addict active in addiction, it's a part of you, of who you are, it is all powerful and there is no denying it once the addiction takes over. This is why a recovery program is necessary for those early in recovery; as the AA Big Book states, we have no mental defense from taking that first drink, shot, snort, etc. (and yes, I can say this even though I am not active in a 12 step program, because I have the experience).

Reading that one sentence brought all that smashing home to me. I loved reading it, seeing where it all began for JW, reminding me that it is exactly the same place it started for me. It reminded me how human G is, and how alike we are. It also reminded me that I need to have more compassion for him, for all of my fellow addicts. He is my brother, all of you are my brothers and sisters in recovery. We share a common experience, a common bond, we all suffer from a devastating disease, one with grave consequences on our mind, body, and soul. I can't believe how outrageous I have been in being judgmental of him, and of other addicts. How dare I, honestly, how can I pass judgment on another addict, and not be looking at myself.

There is another section of the post where she talks about why her husband would have her bring him something that contained his drug paraphernalia in it:

Oh, and why he asked you to bring the shorts, I believe was his way of telling you, of giving himself up, without having to just come out and admit it. Admitting it would mean admitting to the lies and deceit that went into hiding the relapse or the addiction, it's not something an active addict is capable of; I don't believe that an active addict has the capacity for honesty when dealing with loved ones. I remember doing this so often with D, near the end of my last run; not caring that I left dope splattered all over bathroom sinks or leaving wrappers in the trash. This was never exactly a conscious decision, but a way for the man to scream for help when he is being held under by the addiction. I believe that every addict reaches a point where they no longer wish to use, but having no control over their ability to stop, to not lie about it, or to even admit they are using, or have relapsed, that the subconscious mind takes over and does things that would be against the addicts addictive nature.

Your husband is a sick man. But every day he gets by without using, he gets a little better. I am a sick man. But everyday I learn just a little, I grow just a little. Some days I make great discoveries and have mind blowing experiences, other days I feel like I am stuck, and still others I feel like I am slipping. While the symptoms of active addiction are so similar between addicts, I imagine that recovery, while taken at different paces, by different people, your husband has to be in a similar place, and it is not an easy place to be. Early recovery is filled with self loathing, guilt, and seeing the person you love the most crushed day after day, the woman who stood by you, and is still by your side, sometimes that in itself is heartbreaking and almost impossible to stand and you just want to distance yourself rather than to face that beauty, the very beauty you came so close to destroying. I think this is the reason that during early recovery it is so hard for the addict to be close, to share, to communicate with his/her partner. Until you are able to learn to let go of the guilt, and to begin rebuilding your self esteem, that you will continue to subconsciously, or even often times consciously push away the person you love. And who ever said that it's not about the significant other, it's solely about the addict, is completely right. Everything we do, every action we take, every lie we tell, has nothing personal involved. It is part of the disease. The comfort one can take in this is knowing that if the addict works at becoming well, and pushes forward out of active addiction, that their lives will begin to change, and their behavior will begin to change, and there is even the hope that one day the addict will recover. That to me is the greatest hope of all.

Thank you to JW for letting me share this here, for writing daily and sharing your experience, your strength and your hope. Reading that post from months ago, and reading everything you have written in the past several months has been exciting for me. Watching you deal with with the trials and tribulation that addiction causes and seeing you triumph and grow in the process, has been a huge inspiration to me.

Thank you to all that participate here, who write posts, and those who comment, and for all of your wonderful personal blogs. It is comforting when I am having a down day, or scared, or worried, to be able with a few mouse clicks, to find someone who is either going through the same issues, or someone who has recently gone through them, and to be able to read their experience...it's just something that is so empowering, so endearing, and I am very grateful for you all.