What is Friendship?

How do I always manage to find these people? It just occurred to me that part of it is that they all, most recently anyhow, have been connected to the methadone clinic. I thought maybe this time I had done better because this girl didn't ever do heroin. She became addicted to her pain meds after a surgery she had after having her kids. So I though that since she didn't smoke weed and never really was part of a drug scene that maybe she would be different than the people who had. I thought maybe she would have her shit together more. But the more time that goes by I'm finding her to be very needy. I hate that in a friend. When a friendship becomes off balance and there is always one who needs something and then always the other one giving, it isn't really a friendship anymore. It's now a relationship of a whole different color. I feel like when I'm always the one who is giving it starts to suck me dry and I begin to resent the relationship. For some reason it seems like all the people I ever connect with are like this.
And I have to believe that in some way it is a reflection of myself. I have a difficult time being comfortable around people who aren't like that because I never really spent any time with people who were stable. Ever. Like never in my whole life, aside from in passing, have I ever really gotten to know anyone who kept a full time job, didn't get a bitter divorce, wasn't on loads of psychiatric drugs, dealing with legal issues, or a massive drug problem; or possibly a combination of those. I don't know anyone really happy and successful. No one who loves what they do. I wish I had someone near me who I really respected so I could see what they do and then copy them. Because isn't that really how humans learn everything? Isn't that why Rosetta stone is so effective? Because not only do you see the words, you see the action, you do the action yourself and then call it what it is. I wish I had someone who could show me the day to day activities of a happy, successful person. It's like learning anything. If you try to teach yourself something by reading books about it and then trial and error, you may eventually become competent. But it would be much more effective and probably faster if you could study along with someone who is already proficient in the thing you want to do. Hence, schools and teachers. Why don't we just let our children go out there and figure it out? It probably wouldn't be that effective.
Well, anyway. I'm trying to set my life up so that I spend more time around people who I want to emulate. In five years I don't want to be reading old posts and thinking, "My, nothing has changed. I'm still floundering and unsatisfied with life". I want to be able to look at my life and not feel like a failure. I want to have friends who I love and respect. I want to be around people I admire, not people I pity and resent. And I think for that to happen I have to have more respect for myself.
I think I took a positive step in that direction by finally breaking up with Mikey. And I'm really happy that we have been able to remain friends. We see each other every couple of weeks - because he's been living at a friend's house about an hour from me since, probably, May or June. And I miss him sometimes, but overall my stress level has decreased significantly. I sleep better, I get more exercise. Overall I just take better care of myself because I'm not playing mommy to him. But I'm so totally not ready to begin dating anyone else right now. Eventually I do want to meet someone, and I really want kids someday and I'm worried I'm getting too old. I'm terrified I'm going to be one of the women in the world who hits early menopause and can't have kids because I waited too long.
And then other times I think that it's selfish to want kids so badly when the world is so overpopulated. And I would definitely adopt but I wouldn't be allowed probably because of my history with drugs, right? And I couldn't afford it. Doesn't it cost a ton to adopt children? You would think with all the kids dying and starving all over the world they would give one to me. I might be wacky but I'd be a great mom. I know I'd at least be better than some. This girl I was talking about earlier (I would never write this if I ever, ever, ever thought she would read it, but there's no way in frozen hell. So it's okay...right?) swears and screams at her kids every time I'm on the phone with her. I want to say something, but how? What? It will not go over well. No one likes to be told what to do with their kids. Especially by someone who doesn't have kids of their own. It's just too easy to dismiss what they're saying because it comes from someone who has no clue what it's like to be them. But I do know how much I still remember the fucked up things my mom said to me and this lady is worse. I'm trying to talk to her and I can barely make out what she's saying because her kids are being so loud in the background. And it's every single time I talk to her. So then she's like, "Hold on, will ya?.......Shut THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!". I don't even know how to react.
Okay, I know this sounds so awful. How did I become friends with this person to begin with? Using the word friend is, well, not quite accurate I guess. Because we don't know each other very well. I guess it's a relationship which was going from acquaintance towards a fledgling friendship when it hit a rut at way too needy and I'm getting nervous and want to abandon the whole thing but feel like I'm in too deep. Yikes!
Okay. Instead of panicking and doing something I'll regret, I'm going to take it slow. I'll try to assert myself in the meantime so that I don't end up spending too much time on the phone giving advice or listening to her scream at her kids. School starts soon and I'm thinking once she has had some time to herself I could begin to let her know that it bothers me that she talks to her kids like that. Maybe. What do you guys think? Do you say anything in this situation? Okay, I'm not going to ramble anymore about this until I get some advice of my own.

Almost

I remember people telling me not to get on methadone. They warned me that I would end up as addicted to it as H, but worse. At least with H you know that four, maybe five days and all but a few insignificant physical symptoms will remain. After the initial detox period, I found with H, that the rest was mainly psychological. As in my thoughts were consumed by cravings and daydreams about getting high. But with the methadone, it's all more subtle, but so long and drawn out. For me, I've tried it fast and slow, methadone detox is months of mild withdrawals most of the time, peppered with the occasional bout of diarrhea. The lack of sleep really starts to get to me. It's so hard to get comfortable when you're laying still, aware of every physical sensation. There's no distractions when you're laying in bed and it's quiet. You can feel every muscle spasm, every bead of developing sweat, your thumping heartbeat, and racing thoughts.
I was super close to getting high on Friday. I actually went to the only place I know of these days in Brattleboro where I might find dope. I haven't actively used for over five years because of the methadone, so I really don't know anyone anymore who does that shit. Most of the people I used with have moved, died, are in jail or disappeared by now. But there are a few places that seem like they will always be there. One of those I feel okay about walking in and knocking on the door unannounced and uninvited.
I drove myself into Bratt which was stupid because my car is illegal in VT and I have warrants over there too. But I just had it in my head that the only way I would ever be able to sleep ever again was if I found some opiates. When I start to think that way, all fear and apprehension seems to float away and I'll do things I maybe wouldn't normally do. (Note: I'm not sure this would happen if dope were readily available. There would be no need to become reckless in such a scenario). But I made it into town fine, no police sightings. And rather than drive into town I parked on the outside, really close to the NH border at the train station and I opted to walk the rest of the way. I thought that way I would be less conspicuous to any cops, but there were frickin cops everywhere. They were driving in circles around the few main blocks and they were on foot in the area where I could have asked random people for dope, so that was out. Thankfully, I kept telling myself, I dyed my hair brown just the day before so I didn't look entirely like myself. Many of the Bratt town cops would know me by sight and they make a game of checking the warrant lists for people they know. I know this because I've been told as much by cops themselves in the past when I've been picked up for a warrant. Anyway, I made it up to the house which really isn't far from the train station but it's up a big hill. I started off feeling cold as it's been really gloomy and drizzling rain for weeks up here. By the time I walked up to the deck, I was dripping sweat, I felt like I had to crap my pants and my jeans were chaffing my thighs. It's strange that almost all places that you have to go to get dope sort of look the same. Obviously there are differences but rural, urban, whatever, you generally have to go into a shitty, dank, darkly painted or dingy yellowed hallway. Much of the time someone conducts the deal in the hall. Sometimes you go in an apartment. And many times the apartments are surprisingly nice compared to the hallway. Even in some of the crappiest cities I've been to. There can be throngs of dealers outside and then inside everything is meticulous. Maybe the apartment is owned by a girlfriend or elderly relative. Many times the apartments are shit too. It's more interesting to see the contrast of the mildew and falling plaster compared to the floral, ruffled shams and matching tablecloths littered with ceramic figurines of angels and kittens. Anyway, this particular apartment I went to on Friday is one of the shitty ones, no angels, no kittens, no flowers, pretty much nothing pretty and delicate about it. Everyone who lives there is on disability and if they're not junkies they're on their way or recovering. I like the guy who owns the place, let's call him J. He's quiet and soft-spoken and even though I know I'm always buying him something when I give him my money, there's something about him that makes me not really care. But he didn't answer the door. Some guy I've never met before comes to the door all puffed up with no shirt on. He's kind of handsome in a mean way but he's really no taller than me at five two, so he's obviously got a Napoleon complex and we immediately don't like each other. I asked if J still lived there and I heard Carmel's voice from inside (that's the lady who I got kicked out of the Brattleboro M-done clinic with/because of) so I kind of talked over him to her while pushing my way through the door. I also didn't like him because as soon as he opened the door he exclaimed very loudly, "Wow, you look high!", and I was like, "Ah, no, it's the fucking opposite actually". So then he jumped down my throat like he ran the place, "Well, what do you want?" I told them dope or bupes or something. So he was all, "I'll give you two bupes for forty". And I said three for forty and Carmel said yes and he flipped and wouldn't do it so I was all fuck it I'll just take em, whatever. But then he pulls out his shit and all he has are Suboxone which I don't want at all. So I called him out and said I didn't want that because they have nal-whatever, that stupid opiate blocker which would make me sick because I'm on methadone and not sick enough. And they were all pissed and telling me I didn't know what I was talking about because I had said bupes and Suboxone has bupenorphine in it. It does, I agree, but it also has that other shit. Subutex has just the bupenorphine and you can shoot it without getting sick. I guess you can shoot suboxone too but I've been told it makes you feel really sick for a while and then you feel high after that, I'm not willing to try it. The one time I shot some liquid medication I didn't know exactly what it was, I thought I was going to die.
So anyway, I didn't want the suboxone, they really do nothing for me but make me sick and give me a headache. So I tried to ask if they had anything else, or if anyone else did. But by then this guy and I really were about to jump on each other. I had my hand on my mace but I knew I was outnumbered, so I was trying to keep everything in perspective and get out without a scene. Nobody else was going to step on his toes by offering to get me something else. I know they wanted me to buy their last suboxone so they could use my money to buy something better for themselves. But this was really going nowhere. The guy was muttering about how he was trying to help me out but if I couldn't see that then whatever. So I ended up being like, "Go Fuck yourself and I stomped out. So now I'm not so sure about going back. If I knew that asshole wasn't there I would. But he seemed all over-coked up or on steroids or something. I'm totally a downer person and the other end of the spectrum throws me into flight, or fight more likely.
After that I was not up for dealing with the police so I left town thinking I'd go to Keene but when I got there it just seemed like more effort than it was worth. So, defeated I went home sulking. I wanted Mike to drive me to the city so I didn't have to embarrass myself asking people for dope who look at me like I'm the devil. I prefer it when I don't even need to do more than get out of the car and people ask me what I want. But he wouldn't and I didn't want to go alone and end up getting the car impounded.
End result: many Aleve's, klonadine (hydroxy HLC, however you spell it), vitamin D, and California Poppy extract. That put me out for, like, five hours or so. Then I sort of inevitably toss and turn until about six when I can convince Mike to go to the clinic.

Addiction, Recovery, and Smoking in the Truck Yard

There's guys here who's job it is to drive around in a bobtail (the front part of a tractor-trailer) and pull trailers away from doors so drivers can pick them up, and they move trailers around the yard. There are generally two or three on a night. They are mostly back, forth and all around; but sometimes they find a little hidden nook and they park and sit there. Maybe they're napping, perhaps smoking the ganj, or jacking off, I don't know, don't really care. I just wish that tonight they would do what needs to be done up here and skeedadle on out of here. How's a girl supposed to get stoned around here with all these lurking employees?

I know that at least 90% of the people who work here get stoned. I mean I'm the "security" guard so I smell it wafting from guys' open car windows all night as they come and go. But I also know that there are plenty of people who will justify doing something themselves and then rat out someone else for doing the exact same thing. I admit that part of the draw is the amount of risk involved. For that short time, as long as it takes for me to rummage through my purse, find whatever I brought to smoke that night (sometimes a pipe and some bud, sometimes a blunt), and wait for the coast to clear before I sneak outside to stand in the shadow and smoke, I'm not thinking about time and the hours to go before I can leave this place to live the part of my life I wait all the rest of the time to live. For ten to twenty minutes, I am 100% in the moment.

I dropped another five mg last Wed. before my weekend, thinking that would give me a few days to adjust before coming back to work. Well it's taken a few days to register with my body and I just started to feel crappy last night. My eyes were constantly dripping and my nose was running. I rubbed my skin raw around my nostrils having to use the cheap, brown handpaper rolls to wipe my nose all night. I haven't bothered trying to wear eye makeup; I have to wipe the drip from my eye so often, it wouldn't last long at all. The only good thing about going down on the M-done is that I start to lose weight faster. I rarely have an appetite when lowering my dose and I begin to have more and more energy as I go down. I just hope I can get past the last five mg this time w/out using.

Part of my problem is that I am fed up paying fifteen dollars a day when my dose gets this low. By the end we're paying over three dollars a mg which is way more than the cost of any street drug I've ever bought, that's more than frickin' oxy's. It wouldn't be so annoying if the clinic we go to now wasn't so disorganized and unproductive. We are supposed to have a certain amount of counseling when on M-maintenence and although there are counselors employed there, they spend the majority of their time filling out paperwork, answering phones, and manning the reception room. There are no groups, like men and women groups or even the basic HIV or policy groups. I hardly even get piss tested and I've never had a treatment plan done in over a year at this clinic. If they actually had all the requisite services available I may not be so opposed to paying the fifteen no matter my mg dosage.

The best clinic I went to was my first one in Greenfield, Massachusetts. When we started there, southern Vermont didn't have its own clinic yet. Neither did, I beleive, Chesterfield, New Hampshire. Granted, Greenfield CSAC had been around for a while, so they had had time to work out kinks of the sort Keene Metro is dealing with today. But honestly, when you think about it, does it make sense to have to go to a special clinic to get methadone? If people can pick up a methadone prescription at the pharmacy for a pain diagnosis, why can't we pick one up as addicts, most pain patients are addicts anyway. Same with oxy's, vicoden, percocet, morphine - all over the pharmacist counter, but not methadone. I think this has to do partially with the fact that authorities in the fields of law enforcement, addiction treatment, and mental health have decided that addicts need to show how hard they are willing to work for sobriety. This method adheres to the belief that addicts are inherently weak, indulgent people who need to learn discipline and values. Perhaps one reason addiction is so rampant in our society is because the way we judge addicts and approach recovery is all wrong.

Methadone Worries

When I first started this blog, my intention was to write a lot about the methadone program and particularly its shortcomings in an effort to spread awareness. But I sort of became sidetracked with getting to know what blogging was all about. But as I've spent more and more time on here, I'm getting to know what's out there and how stuff works. I'm hoping that with time I will find my niche and what works and what doesn't will come easily. I intend to write more about my difficulty getting off M-done. I'm still at 30mg but I plan to go down next Wednesday, my last day of my work week, and I'm wary because I didn't have a great success the first time. I promise I'll keep posting about how awful I feel and how miserable it is to be an addict in a time when fellow man feels obligated to dictate what I put in my body, and therefore makes me feel pressured to adhere to social norms even if I would rather not. It's hard to say what's worse sometimes. Being sick when you can find or afford your fix. Or pretending that the world's okay without it at all.

PS to all the people that commented early on, I'm sorry I didn't always leave a reply, I wasn't sure how you were supposed to answer people. I thought maybe it's best to use the comment box, or maybe I should just address them in next post. I didn't know what the deal was. So I promise it was not that I was not interested in feedback. On the contrary. So please leave comments, I promise I'll reply now that I know that's the forum in which to do so.

Nosey People

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.

Over-worked, Over-tired, and in a Rut

So I've been thinking lately how I've been lucky to have accomplished in my life many of the things that I wished for myself as a kid. So many people are successful as far as what has been expected of them and in ways that support the essentials. Far fewer are able to cross off the things which they just wished they could do no matter what anyone thought. And that's sort of all I managed to do. I was obsessed with Volkswagen buses and I managed to putt my way through a handful of those. I wanted dreads, I finally managed that. I travelled cross-country a bunch, did the whole travel, music, drugs things. I've gone to college, and worked a billion jobs. I've fallen in love and been ditched and found love again. And still there leaves much to be desired and a sense that something is missing.
I always had a connection to plants and herbs especially. For a long time I was really interested in studying natural medicine. That was sort of my whole thing in school and it's always sort of what I envisioned my career path to be. But somewhere along the way I lost that vision and embraced this whole chemical dependence thing. Before,I had been all about finding that in life which brings happiness through health and nature. I suppose that somewhere along the way I became infatuated with the instant happiness and sense of well-being I got from drugs. I'll always feel that there is a place for that sort of pleasure, but too much of even the best thing can be poison. I think I need to reintroduce myself to parts of me that have been dormant for a while. Maybe I'll feel like I'm moving forward again, then. Because they way I feel now I may as well set up a tent in a hole and live there in a rut forever.
The first thing I need to do before anything else is wean off the last little bit of M-done. That will help me save a hundred and five dollars a week which could be much better spent in other places. For instance, if I could free up those funds then I could perhaps think about trying to get my license straightened out. I am stuck all the time. I can't drive myself anywhere because I don't have a license and I've been caught too many times now driving w/out one if I don't stop now I'll have no license to get back. Until I can do those two things there's not much point in focusing on anything else, it would be jumping the gun. First things first.
I also realize that I probably feel sick a lot and over-tired because I don't get enough sleep and my schedule is a mess from working nights. So I'm going to be playing with my schedule over the next few months while I'm trying to get off the M-done, yet again. My goal is to get eight hours of sleep a night and to attempt to keep my sleep/wake schedule the same on my days off as when I'm on. I've read a lot about how a disruptive sleep schedule can really wreak havoc on a person physically. This is going to be a challenge because I work twelve-hour shifts. By the time we drive twenty-minutes past our house to dose and back I'm lucky if I have an hour and a half left before I'd have to go to sleep in order to get eight hours of sleep. I have to remember I need to be up by six p.m. to have enough time to get to work on schedule.
My first thought is that I need to go grocery shopping for the whole week at once, on one of my days off, as opposed to my current daily shopping tendency. That will save a ton of time, in theory. That will take much planning on my part. Planning ahead which is so not my forte. I used to like cooking and baking when I was little and into my teens but as an adult it feels like a chore a lot of the time. Although I'm beginning to enjoy preparing meals more in our new place. There is something peaceful about it that makes everything done there seem less sucky. I like to be able to eat whatever I may be craving that day, at that moment. So when I shop day by day, I'm sure to get what I want, to eat. I just don't get any sleep. I need both. So I'm going to try really hard to get Mike and I not to have to go to the store every day. I've wanted to join a CSA for our summer produce for a few years now. That way I would get a weeks worth of veggies every week and I could plan around whatever we got. Depending where you join you can get fruit and honey and stuff too. And it's actually cheaper in the long run, especially since there are only two of us and we need only buy a half share. I think it seems like I'm spending more when I shop all at once because it costs more at first. But it ends up being less than spending smaller amounts each day.
I know this is such completely mundane information. I suppose I know people look at it - but blogging is more like a diary, it seems, for most people here. Maybe the voyeuristic nature of blogging is a large part of the appeal. People can't help looking in on the lives of others. Even the mundane can be fascinating sometimes.
So my short, short term goal is to shop for the whole week this weekend. Buy enough stuff on Saturday to have breakfast, lunch, dinner and snack foods for the whole week. That is my challenge. After that, get more sleep and try again to get off the M-done. Then hopefully I'll have more energy and more money available to accomplish bigger stuff and eventually get my license back.

I read all this shit out there by people who say they still get high while on methadone. Are you guys skipping days and then getting high, or are you on wicked low doses? Cuz even though I've gone way down and have managed to stay at 30mg for a few months, I still don't feel shit when I use H. I haven't used in a while, not since I tried to kick the m-done, but man I wanted to get high yesterday. And honestly, if I thought I could have, I would have.

We had to euthanize one of our cats, Chuck Norris, and that's just so fucked up. He was such a good cat and he was only a year old. He was totally healthy it seemed and we took him to get fixed and get his shots last Saturday and he seemed really messed up from the anesthesia but eventually he began to walk around and eat, so we thought he was recovering fine. But I woke up the morning before yesterday and he was all small and frail looking, hunched under a shelf in the bathroom, drooling. It was obvious something wasn't right and we called our vet, the same one who had fixed him. She didn't seem to think it sounded serious and said she could see us at one. So we drove to the clinic to dose and I started to panic about him so we called a few vet hospitals in Keene and made an appointment for as soon as we could get him there. But we should have brought him directly to the vet. Not that it would have saved him, but maybe he would have been in less pain.
Even the vet cannot say for sure what happened. He probably had a pre-existing condition that was exasperated by the surgery and the move. He may have gotten a blood clot from the IV anesthesia and that may have travelled to his heart causing a lack of oxygen. Either way, he had heart and respiratory failure and because of the lack of oxygen, even though he was in an oxygen tank, some cell damage took place. His right arm where he got his shot was dead and limp. It was so horrible watching him suffer. Everything I read about cats and these types of symptoms on the Internet said that the survival rate was very low and upon survival of the initial episode, life expectancy is short. Had we brought him home to nurse him, he would have been in agony. Maybe if I had enough drugs to keep him medicated and happy, I'd try to hang on to him longer, but I don't.

What else is there really to say? Life is sad and mean and fucked up. It seems like there is no rhyme or reason to so many things in life. Why do bad things happen to good people? I can come up with as many theories as the next person, but nobody really knows. All I could tell him was that we loved him and if I had to die I would go the way he went. They basically OD'd him with barbiturates, which for him was likely as peaceful as a heavy, heavy heroin high for me.

It was late in the day before we finally made it home and I really want to bury him well and plant flowers where he's buried, so we decided to bury him tomorrow (or today, I guess). But I wasn't sure how the other animals would react to knowing he was there, so I left him in his little box in the trunk. I know that sounds horrible, he's not just laying there. He's in like a cat body bag (creepy) and then a box with my sweatshirt but I can't walk past the car without cringing.

Cat Dying = Sucks, Sucks, Sucks!!!!

This never-ending night is finally coming to a close and I can put my crap in my car and get ready to go. I just want to sleep through it all until it isn't sad and fucked any more. If I can't medicate myself heavily with my #1 drug of choice, I'll settle for puffing tough and sleeping the day away.

Ready to Move - Only Two Days Left!!!! And then some stuff you Never Wanted to Know.

Beware. Before reading this post, you are forewarned that there is talk of abortions and related subjects. If that upsets you, don't read it. Thanks.



Wow, I'm so ready to move. We've been packing like crazy. The one good thing about moving is that you get rid of all the crap that you don't really need. Since this is the second time in six months that we have moved, we've really cleaned out a lot of clutter. I'm a big pack rat. I save everything, all my bills and receipts and school work. It's kind of crazy. So I've been tossing everything that is dated before 2008. Unless it's really important, like my tax returns; those I keep for seven years and no one will convince me I shouldn't bother.

I finally have gotten up the courage to throw away a ton of clothes. I'm not actually throwing them away, I want to donate them because they are nice, I just don't fit into them anymore. I gained a ton of weight when I got clean. I think it was partially because I actually began eating regularly. But I also had huge sweet cravings like I've never experienced before. And I guess because I was so skinny I didn't think much about it and ate whatever I wanted. Now I can't wear anything from back then. I've lost a lot of it but I'm still a ways to go to my preferred weight. I need to lose at least twenty-five pounds to feel like myself again. Until now I've been hanging onto all my old clothes thinking I would wear them again some day. But they are beginning to seem out of style or not age appropriate and I figure a new wardrobe would be good incentive to lose weight. Once I'm back to a normal size, I get to buy new clothes. Until then I have to wear all the bulky crap I've bought since I got fat.

I was doing well for a while. As I decrease my dose the weight starts melting off, but I've stabilized at 30mg for now until it warms up. Coming down in the winter is too hard for me once I get below 30mg, I start to feel cold all the time. I think it might be easier in the summer. I need to at least try every option I can think of before resigning myself to being on m-done forever. I really hate being associated with the clinic at this point. I feel like if that's the kind of place I associate with then that crap will always be in my life. I just don't want all the shit that has to do with using in my life. I don't want know-it-all junkies blah-blahing in my face every morning about why they don't work or why such and such is the way it is when they really have no clue. I don't want feigning freaks sniffing around my car and asking for rides and stealing my wallet and Cd's when I look in the rear view mirror. I don't want to have to hide my wallet in my own car or pad-lock all my doors where I live so the neighbors can't break in as easily. I'm sick of pretending I don't think the whole scene sucks. I just want out. And although I love heroin more than many things on earth, I'm not sure I love her enough to have to share her with all the fucking people who love her too. Sorry, I know I'm bitching and I don't mean to offend everyone out there who is not a sneak-thief junkie. I know because I've been there that not all H addicts are created equal. But the bottom-of -the-barrel junkies outweigh the functioning addicts in numbers and in defining the reputation of addicts and it sucks!



On a completely different note... I was riding in the car on the way to the clinic this morning. Mikey was driving the back way through Winchester along the river and it was foggy and dark. We were listening to early Bowie and watching the sides of the road silently, the mood was melancholy for sure. And I was thinking, as I often do, of the boy who I loved so much when I was younger and apparently still love. And it's kind of terrible because I feel like it's a mean thing to think about especially with Mikey there beside me loyally driving to the clinic like he does every day without fail. And it's not as if I don't love Mikey and the thought of leaving him makes me queasy. But almost every day a moment comes when I picture this man's face and wonder where he is and if he's okay. And I wonder what I would say to him if I saw him, and I feel lame about how bad I look, overweight and pasty m-done skin. And then I hope I don't run into him any time soon. And then I maybe it would have been better to see him when I was using because then I was so thin and had nice clothes and we had loot and partied all the time and I felt invincible for so many years. It would have been so easy then.

Now it would be so difficult it seems impossible and stupid to even wish for because what would be the point anyhow? If it were meant to be, it would have been. But I wonder if I'll ever love someone like that again. And do you give up someone who you know will always be there for you forever and who you really consider a best friend and truly love for something so elusive as this feeling you can't even really define?

Anyhow, I was seventeen when I met this guy I'm talking about, and we were together until I was about twenty-two or three. Wow. As I write this is realize that that means it has been almost eight years since we've even seen each other. Is it totally crazy that I still think about him? We had this crazy relationship, we fought all the time but we had a wicked physical connection. It's like no matter how much we fought, we could always have sex and we would be all in love again. I've been with a handful of other guys since then and it's never quite clicked like that. And even though we fought, it was, looking back, always about the most absurd things. But anyhow, as I was looking out the window this morning I realized that it was me who doomed the whole relationship. I always blamed him - for his short temper and his inability to be steady. I always thought he just didn't love me enough. But now that I have been through years worth of sad moments, I picture his face in this one moment, and I know it was me. If I could turn back time, I swear it would be to that moment. I would absolutely make the opposite choice.

So many feminists would hate me for this, if anyone read this blog. Anyhow, I got pregnant when I was eighteen and as the story would suggest, I had an abortion. I didn't even think about it, I was freaked out and my mom thought I would be throwing away possibilities if I had a kid, I guess there was a part of me who probably thought that too. My mom didn't really like this guy, she thought he wasn't that smart and kind of mean. He was mean, but he was smart too. But you have to remember I was already having this major culture clash happening. My parents had recently been divorced and I had moved out a year earlier. I had just graduated high school early from a public school I hadn't attended since I was in junior high. So I didn't have any friends from the school I just graduated from and my old friends were all caught up in their own little world of prep school graduation ceremonies and parties and college acceptances. And I felt like a total loser, living at my boyfriends mom's house in his old bedroom. I just couldn't picture myself anywhere and I definitely couldn't picture myself with a baby. But I just wish that someone who I trusted had sat me down and made me think about what I was really doing. I wish I had told his mom. She had him when she was fifteen and she was someone I admired and have mad love for even today. If she had told me I would be okay, that she would help me, that I could still be someone, I may have hesitated, maybe at least I would feel now that I made the decision after weighing all the possibilities. But I didn't. I didn't think about it. Like a lot of things in my life, it seemed to happen outside of my body. As if I were floating above this weird girl aborting a baby she had with a boy she loved, as if it weren't really happening, as if I, Nellie, could still change my mind.

But after eight years of swearing I would make the same choice again if I had to, I realize it is a lie. I just say that because it makes it seem less awful, less like the wrong decision. I'm sure for some people it is totally the right thing to do. And I don't in any way condone pro-life agendas. I think everyone should have the right to choose whatever they feel is right for them. I just wish I hadn't been so brash and quick to decide. I know now that I didn't ask him what he wanted. That sounds crazy, right? Why wouldn't he have spoken up? He did, in his way. His face was stone for weeks, maybe months. And he would come and go which he didn't do before. And even though we tried to keep it going for years afterwards, there was always a resentment underlying the whole relationship. I'm sure he resented me for not including him in something that was partially his decision and I resented him for not stopping me.

Why write this? Why even admit it? Just to feel sad? I want him to know that I am sorry. Even if I never tell him, the cosmos should know that I'm sorry.

I really don't understand how some people are so easily able to just let shit go. That was my favorite thing about heroin. When I was high, things didn't seem so annoying. I'd always explain to people by saying, "I could crash my car and be all bleeding and still be like whatever, it's just a car. Oh, shit, is everyone okay?". I understand how to let go while high, just when I'm not do I have a problem. And seriously, despite all the opinions contrary, methadone does not count. I do not feel high on that stuff, all it does is make me not physically ill and slightly lethargic. One of the folks I keep tabs on said it well on his blog today, describing it as "that warm, fuzzy, everything is okay with the world" feeling. Very few times have I felt that without the aid of drugs. I know all the who-ha about how we can transcend the superficial high of drugs through meditation and surrender to a higher power - perhaps I just am not ready to fully embrace the concept.
So I got to work tonight and I have to go inside the warehouse building to punch in and then I walk back out to my little security shack. And yes it is ironic that I work as a security guard. It actually embarrasses me a little - I justify it because it is not a real security job, I just check trucks and employees into the yard. I have no authority, so it's not like a turned into a rat, right? Most of the time I just blog, watch movies or read, waiting for a truck to show. So as I was on the way back to my shack I noticed that the receiving office staff was still here which is late for them. So as I passed, I paused and said, "Wow, you guys are here late tonight." Then I sort of paused and waited for the lady to say something to me, like "Yeah, just doing blah blah blah". But she didn't, she just gave me a look, like what the fuck do you care sort of look. So I was all, "okay, well, have a good night". And I proceeded to shack.
I hadn't been out here more than fifteen minutes and she comes knocking on the door with some paperwork for my shift. Generally this paperwork is already here when I get here. But on occasion, it is not. In such a case it generally is brought to me by some member of the office staff within a few hours so I wasn't overly concerned. But she was all, "You really should have stopped by on your way through". Now this is the very same woman I had just spoken to. So now it is my turn to think what the fuck? I swear I have a sign on my head that reads 'Take out all your fucked up issues and insecurities out on me because I'll let you'. So in my head I'm thinking, "Am I crazy? Didn't I just talk to her? What does she consider 'stopping by', if not that?" So I say, "Uh, I did just stop by, didn't I?" And she seriously replies, "Well, you just ran through saying something about staying here late." Okay, whatever, am I crazy or is she? Is what I did not considered stopping by? What do you do in a situation like that? You can't really make a big deal about it because obviously the lady has a stick up her ass about something and probably won't be reasoned with. So of course I acquiesce and say, "okay, well, thanks, see you later". But really I want to say, "Are you for real? Are you really that miserable of a person that you have to make things up to be pissed about? Give me my paperwork and get out of my shack and don't come back until you seek therapy".
I know it is a petty battle. I know that many people would say to just let it go, it's not worth arguing about. Well, I think people use that excuse far too often. Do you let it go when you see a parent hit their kid in the grocery store? Do you call someone out when they make racist or sexist comments? Where do you draw the line? Maybe if people began to call out other people on their questionable actions, people would not commit questionable acts with such nonchalance?
I look forward to becoming very old so that I can say just exactly what I think and get away with it. People tend to make allowances for very old women or men, they will respectfully listen to comments they may otherwise balk at. I plan to be very rich and very feisty and say whatever I want and I will hire a driver so that I can go wherever I please.

Boring post #27

I just finished 'America Anonymous' by Benoit Denizet - Lewis, another book about addiction. This one was a little different in that it wasn't just about drug addicts. It cycled through the stories of eight addicts - two sex addicts, a food addict, an alcoholic, a shoplifter, two drug addicts, and a gambler/drug addict who was also an addiction recovery counselor. It was interesting because I'd never really thought that much about anything other than drug addiction. Rather than labeling a million separate addictions, maybe we should simply categorize addiction as a disease itself and the compulsion could be for anything in the world from sugar to crack to clothes. Isn't that what addiction essentially is, a compulsion to do or behave in a certain way despite negative consequences? So in that sense a person could become addicted to anything which makes them feel better or numbs feelings for any length of time?
I mean these people seriously seemed to believe that they were powerless over food or sex, it caused havoc in their lives, it even led to physical ailments in the case of food especially. But where do we draw the line, when does something stop being a conscious decision and become an addiction which we are supposedly powerless over? Because the word powerless would imply that we have no control over our actions and many people find it difficult to accept that someone who shoplifts is not in control of their actions and is in fact addicted. Does that mean if a person gets caught shoplifting they should be offered rehab over traditional sentencing? Perhaps a combination of methods, such as a fine and mandated treatment, would work the best for almost all addictions?
Anyhow, I thought the book was worth reading, especially being an addict. I've always tended to be the type of addict who thought I was somehow different, even better than other addicts. Simply because I had been a pretty well functioning addict the whole time I used, not stealing money for drugs or prostituting myself, I have an unfortunate habit of scoffing at other addicts. That's is my big problem with meetings, I have a hard time relating. But when I can read about people's feelings and experiences and process them on my own I realize that we are all more similar than we would all probably like to admit. It's an easy read too, the language is casual even as the content can be challenging at times. Check it out.
It seemed like it may have been warming up for a few days there. Kids were wearing t-shirts even as the sun went down. And now we have a drizzle of freezing rain, not quite snow but not really rain either. I think that is the worst combination as far as driving goes. I may as well count on not getting out of work on time because the woman who comes in to work after me is always, without fail, always, always late when it snows. Often she calls out altogether, I suspect that happens on days her kids have school cancelled. I can't get upset at that because I would want the same understanding if I had kids. Only she waits until the last minute to call out and then I'm always stuck here for her until my boss sees fit to come to work. So I should just plan on being here until at least eight and then driving to the clinic in the icy rain/snow. It really wouldn't be such a big deal if it were just me and I didn't have to ask Mike to wait around until who knows when. Plus, our days are already so short, working 12 hour shifts sucks.
I've been feeling so lethargic lately. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down and gunky and I know it is related to being on methadone. Sure, it takes away a lot of the need for heroin but it creates other issues. If heroin didn't make us euphoric we might notice the damage it does a little faster, well, that's methadone - heroin with no euphoria. But it is so hard to get off. I'm on such a low dose compared to what I was on and still it feels like too much while also feeling like not enough.

Vastly Disappointed in Vermont....

Life is hard and I find myself thinking so much about all that is wrong with the world that I tend to forget about everything I have that I should be grateful for. I know that sounds like some recovery bullshit - but I mean it in the most sincere way possible. My life is far from perfect but I find that if I think about what I do have instead of dwell on all that I have yet to accomplish, I actually get further from the places I don't want to be. I am so disappointed in myself that I could not make it all the way off the done program. I know that five years doesn't seem like a long time for folks who have been on it for twenty-five years - but we're talking about FIVE years of my life, five years of having to be at a creepy clinic every morning to jump through hoops of pink methadone. However, as much as I think there is wrong with the methadone system, it's better than being out there using in the current War on Drugs climate. Just the few days that I was out relapsing made me remember just how crappy it is to have to be at the mercy of whomever it is who has my drugs that day. Don't get me wrong, we're at the mercy of those running the clinics, and I have very strong feelings in regards to the belief that clinics are merely legal drug dealers; yet there still seems to be just a shred more dignity left inside me when I walk out of the clinic than when I walk out of some shitty dope spot. So in this situation I have to remember how long it took for me to get in to the clinic to begin with, I have to remember how bad it feels to be sick and that so many people have to drive hours every day for their dose. I tend to be pissed that I got kicked out of the clinic in my own town (for what I obviously think are poor reasons) and I should be glad that there is at least an alternative within a thirty-minute drive and I should be even more grateful that I have a reliable ride in my boyfriend's vehicle. In the days during my relapse I ran into the two people who we got kicked out with due to an argument on clinic property and they are full-fledged back on dope and look awful and skinny and are living on the floor in the back of some leech's apartment. In a rather related rant; how can the people running these clinics preach that they are there to help, as opposed to being there to make a bundle of money off addicts, when they kick people out for typical addict behavior knowing full well that they will in all likelihood go right back to using? These people were doing well at the clinic, especially compared to where they had been. The clinic director knew the probability of these two going right back to the streets and he can still fall asleep at night? There could have been so many alternative ways to punish us, ways in which we would have learned a lesson and grew as people, ways in which we could have given back to the clinic community and still been humbled but not entirely destroyed; yet this director chose to punish us in the worst way possible and single-handedly turned the lives of four people into a tumult because he was scared of the poor image that would be reflected upon the clinic because of our behavior. I find this is a common attitude among clinic directors and their staff; but to open a clinic which is a business profiting off the disease of addiction and then become irate when your customers act like addicts seems foolish to me. If these people who open these clinics were not prepared for controversy than perhaps a methadone clinic was not the best business choice for them. On a positive note - those of us who have benefited from methadone in many ways, but who feel clinics leave much to be desired, need to band together and make the public recognize that we deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. There are a lot of people across the globe on methadone who are valid members of their communities, as if all people aren't valid in some way or another, but what I mean is that we work and/or go to school, raise families, and contribute to society while not continuing to use illicit drugs. We shouldn't have to revolve our lives entirely around our daily dose, we shouldn't have to fight with insurance companies to be covered for a legit medication, we shouldn't feel like we are at the mercy of anyone, we should be able to go on vacations and not be forced to endanger our lives when we have to drive hours in the worst weather to get our medication. State and Federal governments are making arbitrary laws based on statistics at best and personal misconceptions at worst, and we need them to make laws that make sense for the real people who are using the real services in our daily lives. We need to let lawmakers know that there are real, living and dying people behind the numbers and we are sick of being held prisoner in liquid handcuffs and we are tired of living with the stigma of addiction which for most of us is caused by a pre-existing psychological disorder such as anxiety or depression but could be anything. We are the only ones who can put an end to harsher sentencing for drug addicts than rapists and pedophiles.....And anyway, thanks for reading my rant. The point I guess I was working towards is that as much as I'm disappointed in myself for not reaching my ultimate goal at this time, I'm sort of proud of myself for at least choosing the lesser of the two evils because at least on the methadone I am stable enough to change all the other crap going on around me which makes me unhappy. And thanks to all of you who have been checking in on this blog and power to all of us who have to suffer with this addiction for the rest of our days.
N.

What The F**K Is This Life?

Why are we here? There is no real answer no matter if you believe in everything or nothing there are no real answers because nobody really knows. And I'm sick of religion because even as obvious as it may be that there is something else out there, we don't know what. We call it this, that and the other thing but it's all the same thing, this God. Some power, some influence, but most of us ignore it because it's scary to think about.

As I get off my methadone dose I feel like I'm coming back to life. I feel like I have been locked in some vault within my own body for five years. As the methadone seeps out of all my bones and fat cells it's like a shell is cracking within me and the person who I was before is coming back. There are many bad things about that girl but there are so many things that I miss about me that I want back. I realize how sedated I was on the dose I was on. You get there so slowly and usually you are so grateful because you think you can't get off dope any other way. I had got off dope myself once or twice and then gone through rehab but I always started using again as soon as the money was flowing again. But now I think the best way to quit dope is to go to a private rehab for months or more until you really feel life differently but that is not possible for me and most other people. I checked into how much private rehabs cost and it's like at least $5,000 a week and that's a low estimate. Who the hell can afford that? Movie stars, the independently wealthy? So the rest of us have to feel the pain, every moment of it and withstand it mostly alone and pray we make it through and can go back out there in the world without finding the nearest heroin to take the pain away. You just know it's out there shuffling through the hands and veins of so many people and it would be so easy, just so easy to feel so sweet. And that's your primary memory, will it be forever? I know all the people on the firmly sober side of the fence would say I'm in danger of using and I shouldn't come off my methadone. Maybe you are right - but I think I'll always be in danger of using and what am I supposed to do, just stay on legal shitty heroin forever? I'd rather be crazy and energetic and free and deal with the constant pain rather than sedated and zombified wearing liquid handcuffs.

You have to remember that methadone clinics are FOR PROFIT businesses. They are there to make money primarily and if they happen to help some people in the process, well, all the better I guess. I do think that there are individuals who sincerely care and want to help but they are forced, by threat of losing their job or license to practice, to conform to the impersonal care which is currently the norm. I've seen a lot of those folks get frustrated and burnt out. Is it really that difficult to see how methadone clinics are essentially legal heroin dealers? They make you jump through hoops to get your dose, just like all our dealers used to do. Instead of wait in the rain for three hours, show me your tits, get me some cigarettes....it's be here every morning within a specific two hour gap (maybe more if it's a big clinic), don't talk to us in any way we don't like or we won't dose you, don't get upset, don't smoke weed, no you can't go down, see the doctor.....and if you do all this, we might give you your dose. The major similarity: We pay, We are the customer, They work for US, and they dictate the rules. How does that go down, most of us are at clinics voluntarily for our OPIATE abuse issues, not for smoking herb, or to go to redundant AIDS education meetings when we don't have AIDS and know all about it anyway. I know a lot of it is federal but like that makes it legit, the feds are the ones waging the war on drugs, again, FOR PROFIT. The best interest of the addict is not the foremost thought of anyone of these organizations.

If for some reason you cannot pay for your methadone, they will detox you faster than you can say, what the fuck? But if after years and years of being clean and you decide you want to go down, they will make it so extremely difficult and frustrating to get your dose lowered. You will have to see the doctor, the director, your counselor, fill out paperwork, oh yeah, and beg. So you see the issue I hope, if it's in their interest "There is no danger in dropping 10mg a day. The physical pain of withdrawal is all in our heads". But if we want to go down 5mg every three days, well then they need to monitor us for heath and mental stress and make sure we are not endangering ourselves. That's crap. Stand up for your rights, we signed paperwork coming in stating that this was voluntary and we were allowed at any time to stop treatment of our own will, even if we were openly stating that our goal was to go out and use, that is our perogative. Would you still shop at CVS if every time you went in the told you that you could not buy anything without first buying a $15 bottle of perfume? No you would not. But that's what the clinics do to us, they force us to continue paying $15 a day when we want to get off while we are waiting for the proper "paperwork". BE WARY.

On a more positive note, I am down to 15mg - that's SO close for those of you who don't know. But I do hear it's the worst once you are down to zero, like the second or third day I've been on zero I think I'll be feeling it the worst. But I did discover something to help...it's a secret though until later. Please leave any comments you may have. At this point I even welcome those who really think I'm wrong, just let me know what you think.

Methadone Madness

There are SO many things in life that you will never believe just because someone tells you about it. Anyone ever addicted to anything knows what they were told about the "dangers of drug addiction". But we did it anyway because we had to find out for ourselves. At least I remember being conscious when making the decision to begin to use harder drugs that I was doing it partially because I knew I couldn't judge it without properly experiencing it for myself. In the past I had looked down on people who became addicted - I maybe was not even aware of how judgemental I was before I became an addict. In a lot of ways I would not do a thing differently, I learned a lot about myself through my addiction, I actually became a better person in many ways. I'm much more forgiving of the faults and shortcoming of others and I see my own much more clearly than before.

But today I am not a better person, I'm a bitch to everyone and I feel like crap. No one ever mentioned during my methadone intake that there was a huge potential to gain a ton of weight unless I was very thoughtful about what I ate. I gained almost 65 pounds just because of the methadone. Well, I can't blame it all on simply taking methadone - but it does make you feel sleepy and lethargic in a way entirely different than real opiates. There's no euphoria just the sluggish, heavy feeling especially at first and then you get used to it and start to think it's normal. Beware of all the sweets cravings that many people get when they get off H. I thought I ate a lot while I was using, rehab nurses were always impressed by how healthy I seemed despite my heavy usage. But I realize now that I ate hardly anything or I threw up what I did eat or fell asleep in my food dish. I had also been naturally thin and fit my whole life from playing sports and being active and had always been able to eat whatever I wanted. That changed abruptly after getting off H and I really wish someone had drilled it into my head that I better watch what I eat because now I'm miserable and have never been so overweight in my life. I was always under 110 lbs and now I weigh in at 155.5 on a good day. I'm hoping that as I keep going down on my dose I'll lose weight more easily, I've also really begun to pay attention to what I eat. A word to those with better planning skills - Try not to come down on your dose too fast and deprive yourself of food at the same time, you may not be safe for public exposure,

I've been on methadone going on five years or more now and I know there's people out there who make me look like a baby in the life of methadone maintenance. But despite the fact that I hope to God that I'm not a methadone lifer as far as being a patient, I do want to be involved in making methadone patients legal rights a lot more clear. Aside from all the physical discomfort and cravings patients feel while getting on or off methadone, we also suffer from the heavy burden of social stigmatism for being addicts.

I also have a bone to pick regarding the absence of proper aftercare for patients. Some clinics offer some counseling for a short period after ending dosing but it does not seem to be common. I don't even get regular counseling while being on the program. What am I saying 'regular'? I havn't had an appointment since I began. Since my intake at my current and least favorite clinic, I have heard more about my counselors life than she has of mine. I feel like I have to find my own support system because it is really the money that theses clinics are seeking. Heck, I could open my own clinic - there are permits to obtain but it is a profitable business like any other.

To anyone considering beginning or ending methadone treatment, please leave a response, I really want to hear other people's experiences. I'd like to know what people like or don't like about the clinic they go to. There are clinics all over the country, the world - what is it like for you guys out there. We need to let people know that we are medically taking methadone and we need people to know that it can make us really sick and we need rights. We should not have to be afraid to tell our places of work that we are on methadone, we should not have to feel discriminated against because of something we were genetically predisposed to and are attempting to remedy. Please let's hear from all you Daily Dosers out there!

Think Things Through....

Anyone considering methadone as a means to quit dope should try to do a little research first so they know a bit about what they are signing up for. I know it's difficult, because by the time a person seeks treatment, life is pretty bad. At least some parts are bad enough to make the rest seem like it may not be worth it; and to be honest, most of us would have to admit that lack of funds is the usual road block keeping us from using forever. The point I'm trying to make is that I feel like I jumped right into treatment without asking a lot of questions because all I cared about is that I knew I would feel better. I just didn't want to be dope sick anymore; and by this time it was a rather regular feeling as I was unable to afford the amount of dope I needed to stay high. The filthy rich can blow through fortunes on dope so it should be no suprise that even though my boyfriend and myself were working full time and hustling and selling glass art that he made, we still couldn't swing it. I truly believe that I will never say that I regret the decision I made to begin methadone treatment; I simply wish I had been mentally able to enter into a better informed situation.
Knowing all that I know now about clinics (whether they be Metro's, CSAC's, Habit Opco's, or corporations under other names), I still believe that methadone is a gift to the field of recovery and to all of those whose lives have been changed by it. I think patients could benefit from treatment in numerous ways if clinics were to operate as non-profits. It would be great if patients could pay less for smaller doses; as it is set up now, the cost is the same for 10 mg as 300mg. The way things stand as of now, there is hardly any aftercare to speak of and depending upon the individual clinic patients may be required two hours of counseling or more a month and others may be offered no counseling at all. Evidently there are many changes that could be made to improve the current situation. For any changes to take place, however, caretakers and professionals in the field need to collaborate with patients to come up with procedures that accomodate both parties equally.
A major reccuring gripe I hear from patients is that they feel like they are treated as criminals rather than medical patients, the majority of whom are in treatment voluntarily. Obviously, the women and men who choose to work at a methadone clinic must have a certain level of compassion and understanding towards the patients being accomodated at these clinics. The doctors, nurses, and administrators could all probably make more money someplace else and deal with a lot less grief on a daily basis as well, but they choose to use their skills to help addicts find recovery. For that I have respect for these people. But just because some people feel for us addicts does not mean they understand us or, more importantly, trust us. I can't count how many times I have been treated like I was a liar and a thief because I was a recovering addict, I have been told countless times as I'm sure we all have that "the way to tell and addict is lying is to see their lips move." I resent such assumptions because there are many, many well funtioning addicts in the world, myself being one of them. A few bad apples should not make the whole bushel worthless, right? I know plenty of women and men who worked and raised their families and even attended school throughout the time they were using. All addicts are not morally inept individuals, in fact there is research that shows addicts to be, on the whole, trustworthy, compasionate and highly intelligent individuals who are suffering from a disease even they cannot define or understand.
All this being said, it should be clear that I am ready to move on from this stage in my life.

TO BE CONTINUED.......

If Only We Could Travel Through Time....

For the sake of all those who have yet to go through heroin detox or opiate replacement therapy, I wish that I could go back and begin this blog from the moment immediately before I got clean. Like many addicts, I knew in my soul that I needed a drastic change in my life long before I actually made any changes. Part of the problem I had in initiating change was that it was difficult to get the answers I was looking for and even more difficult to put together a plan that may work to keep me clean over the long term. I saw over ten different doctors and therapists over the course of many years while I sought a program which would work for me. I believe that it would have been really helpful to be able to find some resources out there for people in my position. If I had had access to a non-judgemental, unbiased source of knowledge and information regarding opiate dependence, I may have saved myself a lot of heartache and physical pain.
I can't even count how many times I tried to get clean on my own. But I do remember vividly the excruciating pain of it as if it were yesterday. Once I found out about medically assisted detox programs, I realized it was possible to detox with relatively little discomfort if a person was under the supervision of a medical staff at a rehab facility. With the ability to be detoxed and back on the streets within a week or less, it's easy to fall right back into using because most rehabs don't set up adequate aftercare programs for their patients. I in fact wondered if they hoped patients would come back because it is after all a profitable business with state care going for over a thousand dollars a day and up. After several years of trial and error - of cold turkey, of trying to wean myself, AA, and NA, and even a year or so of suboxone - it was the methadone that finally made recovery a possibility.
As much as I credit methadone maintenance therapy with changing and possibly saving my life, it may not be the best thing for everyone. First of all, one must understand that methadone clinics are not non-profit. It is in their interest to make money off their patients. Methadone clinics are not charitable organizations - so if lack of funds is the main reason you want to quit drugs, methadone may not be the answer for you as it sometimes feels like it costs as much as my old habit. It doesn't, of course, cost nearly as much but it seems that way sometimes. There are many, many more reasons to think significantly about whether methadone is right for you - so if it's something you are thinking about for yourself or someone you love - PLEASE STAY TUNED FOR MORE TIPS FROM THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN THERE! PLEASE, i WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM OTHERS WHO HAVE EXPERIENCED ADDICTION AND ARE ON THEIR WAY TO RECOVERY EITHER PHYSICALLY OR MENTALLY.

Diary of a Drug Fiend

This blog is for all the addicts and recovering addicts and everyone who loves an addict and wants to help; or simply to those who would seek a better understanding of what it really is to suffer from addiction. I was a heroin addict for a long time and I have been clean now going on five years. I want to share what that journey has been like for me in the hopes that my reflections may help others with their journey down a similar path.
It is my hope to clarify some misconceptions our society holds in regards to addicts. I want to dispel many myths and rumors which support the belief that all addicts are unintelligent, lazy, morally weak people who think only about themselves. In fact, addicts cross all boundaries of race, gender, age, and level of education to name just a few. There are so many reasons why people become addicted, nothing is black and white in regards to addiction anymore. A substantial number of medical experts regard addiction as a disease not unlike diabetes or cancer and that is a belief which seems to be more and more acceptable to the medical community.
However, there are still millions of people out there who would imprison us for our disease rather than seek a path towards rehabilitation for drug offenders. I want to address methadone as a treatment for addiction because I believe it is equally misunderstood. People seeking recovery through methadone maintenance are routinely discriminated against at NA or AA meetings because we are not considered clean. It is difficult to find a doctor who does not have a bias against methadone patients and it can be difficult to find a job or even receive school loans from the feds. Please stay tuned to discuss all these topics and more. Stay Clean!!!