It's finally warming up enough that I can start to come down on the M-done again. When I get this low and drop my dose I feel cold all the time. Being cold means being achy and sore and unable to move properly. With the summer coming I can try again. I'm so close, only at 30 mg right now. That seems like nothing but let me tell you it sure seems like a whole shit load once it's gone.
I love it so much when counselors tell you that withdrawal symptoms are mostly psychological in nature. "Oh", they say, "I'm not discounting that there are some physical symptoms, but a lot of it is in your head." Times like those I wish I could immediately curse them with instant withdrawal symptoms and let them tell me then that it's all in the head. If you want to be technical, everything is in our heads. Every feeling, emotion, sensation - it all starts in the head. We're not imagining a sudden lack of endorphins, there really IS a sudden lack of endorphins and that fucking hurts any way you slice it.
So our clinic is located in this middle class, rural neighborhood in a split level, converted barn. It looks more like a house now which has been converted to office space. The building is spacious, cold, and impersonal like most clinics. Because it's in a rural area, you need a car to get there which helps cut down on some of the bullshit and the lingering that happens at most urban clinics. But you're always going to have the odd, loitering, hanger-on as is the nature of clinics. It can't be avoided.
Mike and I do our best to get there early every day because the earlier you get to a clinic, the better. Well, at most places there is a busy half hour to an hour directly after they open for all the folks who work early-morning jobs like farming, painting, construction. Some places have a half hour reserved only for people who can provide proof of employment so they can dose and leave. We did that when we first started M-done, but it got mad old because there is inevitably a problem causing you to be late for work. And unless you are super open and tell your boss you're on M-done, you end up having to make all these excuses which make no sense because, of course, they're not true. It didn't take long to figure that the best way for us would be to simply work nights and then we wouldn't have to stress about whatever the clinic threw at us. Hold my dose, whatever, I got all day. Anyway, the percentage of people who work full-time jobs is absurdly low at most clinics. That being the case, after the short a.m. rush, it's pretty quiet until about an hour before they close. Fifteen minutes before closing is mayhem.
But sometimes, no matter how early you get there, no matter how much you do to mind your own business, someone just has to fuck with you. And so be it. So I get there the other day and there is this girl and her husband and baby there and I really don't like this girl because she is one of those nosy type people who insist on talking to you even when you go out of your way to be as inaccessible as possible. A while back I was standing in a corner waiting for my turn on a particularly busy and crowded day and she literally snatched, snatched I tell you, my book right out of my hands. It was an Anne Rice vamp book, and she was all, "Oh, I read this ages ago, in like high school, oh my God!" So of course I was like, roll my eyes, "Hmph, yeah, great." And we really never hit it off since. There are other little, nit-picky things I could harp on about why else I don't like her - but really, what would be the point?
So she was there this day and her husband (by the way, it's like faggy Jack Sprat and his tubby wife go to Old Navy with their baby) and he was just coming down from the dosing landing and she was downstairs by the door with her baby, talking to the director as if she had already dosed. And there was some other random 'regular' who was between husband guy and us. So we do as usual, keep our eyes cast down, don't speak to anyone, sign in and go up to waiting area. The girl ahead of us is sitting there waiting for husband to get out of the way which took a while, then she doses while we quietly wait in line behind her and as she finishes she starts to holler, "Oh, wait, isn't what's her name next? Where is she, blah-blah get up here!" And I'm like, "Un-uh, no way, we're next. You snooze, you lose. She ain't here, she ain't next, so's the name of the game." And of course, she didn't like that and huffed past me to fume to her dumb friend. Who by the way, was all "Let her go." As if it weren't my turn and I was gonna go whether she condoned it or not. Mike and I show up there together every fucking day, and if I stop and have to talk to my counselor or something and someone shows up in between us and signs in and goes upstairs before I do, I have to wait for them to go. It's fucking happened, like three times, and whatever, my bad, I sucked it up. Their turn. Not to mention, they are no job, trusty trust funders who have no place to be while I've been at work all night and want to go to sleep. So we both dose, me first.
As I go to leave, I have to walk past this lady, still fuming. And still sitting up in the waiting area which is not cool - leave already, get a life, it's not Panera. So she can't resist and looks at me and says, "You're a miserable bitch." Which automatically elicits a "Yeah, and you're a fat cunt." Okay, I know two wrongs don't make a right, but fuck that. I know I have very little restraint and it's childish to say that she started it, but she did. If you can't take the heat, don't go in the kitchen. And for once in my life, I didn't get blamed for the whole thing. As some know, I've been kicked out of a clinic for fighting already. That time it was I sprayed some ass w/mace for stealing my wallet out of my car when I gave them a ride and smoked em' up.
So the moral of my story: If you go to a clinic, mind your own business and don't pick fights because you never know who will just lose it and spray you with mace.
1 comment:
Hm, "fat cunt" was in poor taste. Shouldna made fun of her weight like that.
It reminded me of an email joke I got yesterday about a retired lady who got hired to greet at Walmart. She's at the door and a gal walks in with two screaming, outa control kids. The gal starts mouthing off at the retiree who asked if the kids are twins. The gal gets irate, saying they're 7 and 9, do they look like twins, are you stupid, and other nasty things.
The retiree says "No. I just couldn't believe that more than one man would ever sleep with you. Have a nice day and welcome to Walmart."
Silly cunt...
Keep The Faith*
Robb
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