It’s time to put all of my cryptic blog posts into perspective because I’ve had a weird fucking week.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have attachment issues. If I feel really connected to someone I focus on that a lot because it made me feel good, which on its own is a small enough feat to deal with. However, I have also been weaning down on my methadone. I went down 2mg on Friday which doesn’t seem that big but the usual dosing ratio for weans is 10% or less and I am now on 28mg. It’s a big jump. I don’t feel any withdrawal symptoms, nothing worth taking note of at least; so far my wean has been a pretty comfortable experience as far as I can tell. Compared to heroin withdrawals, it’s wonderful.. and the fact that the weight I’ve gained is melting off makes me happy too. I was at 130 mg which is a relatively high dose, and after a year of stability I was asked to wean at least below 120 because they don’t know the long-term effects of dosing that high for long periods of time.
I was so scared, and then a few months later I saw I had gained like 70lbs in recovery. 20 of that was probably needed, and the rest I despised. I’ve lost about 30 now, so I would like to go another 20. But I didn’t begin losing weight, regardless of how well I ate and exercised regularly until I went below 50mg. High dose = weight gain.
Anyhow, some other things are going on between my hormones and my doses. I have only been in a few serious relationships.. I had a girlfriend early on, I was young… 2 years on and off, then my first serious boyfriend and I started dating when I was 17 and I stayed with him for one week short of 5 years. Things got so toxic and ugly, we began dating when I was still using and continued after the fact. Things were just… ugly. I am always hesitant to call people “abusive” but I am learning you can still be a decent person, and an abusive one. There are beautiful people with hideous qualities, as in: every single one of us.
We broke up two years ago, and have remained in some sort of contact since although it was usually sparse until the end of this May after my “current” (at the time) boyfriend and I had broken up. We did psychedelics and went to a concert, I think it made him feel really nostalgic, as those things tend to do. But since then I have felt a sort of pressure from him, knowing he is suffering and missing what we once had. I am uncomfortable, because I am still grieving from a recent heartbreak at this time but he gets so wrapped up in how hes feeling.
I had been so depressed these past few months, and a few weeks ago I started finally feeling like myself again. I decided to get my tattoos fixed up, go out again, and be happy, and treat myself to the things I wanted to do. Live and not just be alive.
I have had these experiences, that I can’t get into too much because my parents read these blogs (hi mom) and I have no idea what it all means or if it will mean anything a month from now. It makes me happy, it’s kind of beautiful and I’m addicted to an experience instead of a substance.
I decided now was a good time to talk to the ex I had been hanging out with again, and ask him if he would ever be satisfied as my friend or if it would hurt him watching me move on still? He reacted in a negative way, and then apologized. Then lashed out at me again, in, I dare say: an abusive manner (which is a bit soul crushing).
I had a real good cry after that one.
I continue to enjoy my life, and then the boyfriend I broke up with in May who shattered my world for a little while decides that 4am is a good time to call me up, drunk from a blocked phone number, but say nothing. Just to wake me up.
I had no idea who was calling so I decided to hang up.
Then an unknown number asks me to check my spam box.
And then it’s a big outpour of regrets and “I fucked up” ‘s and “I miss you” ‘s and what else you’d expect from a horny drunk dude.
I knew this would happen… and never mind that this is the same night I think to myself for the first in a while throughout these three years (it does happen from time to time) that “Hey, I should just fucking get high. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, and no one really has to know do they? Why does it have to be a big deal. I’m not the same person I was before.” I know I act manipulative when I ask people to get opiates for me, and they shouldn’t listen to me. Listen to your gut people, it IS a bad idea, those warning lights are there for a reason. I am good at being manipulative when I want to though, I forget that sometimes.
I was strong through this bullshit with my ex though. He continued with it yesterday, and I am so fucking glad that I love myself enough to not give a shit. (If you’re reading this, because you realized you fucked up after you cheated on me and treated me like garbage. Good. Learn from your mistakes, and treat the next girl better than you treated me. Spite is easy, I wish you well… just the hell away from me.)
SO by yesterday afternoon I am bugging the fuck out with anxiety. But I can’t go to yoga yet because I don’t want to mess up my butt tattoo again. So I go on a 15k bike ride, and nope. Still don’t feel better even after all that sun and biking. So I text the fuck out of people, and piss them off and make everyone sick of me and my rambling anxious ass so I decide I’m gonna get some drugs.
I don’t have money but I can plan to get drugs.
And by drugs, I mean opiates… I’m not perfect and I am not in narcotics anonymous, or an abstinence based recovery. I drink mushroom tea, I smoke weed (although its more socially acceptable for me to somehow because the government agrees I need it medically?), and I drink alcohol from time to time. But I am going to fucking college, and I have my shit together for once in my life while also being able to be a little bit crazy because that’s who I am.
I’ll pick up later. I’m going to bed, because I’ve made an anxious ass out of myself. I wake up in the morning, someone I care about thinks I’m annoying this morning too which always makes me act like a kicked puppy. I’m crying, I realize I should probably go to yoga but I feel so shitty and I have CRAVINGS FOR DRUGS.
So, I do something smart for once and call my addictions counselor and leave her a very sad message. She phoned back within an hour and probably thought we were going to have a short call, but when I got into what my week had been like she listened and her voice was like the calm in this storm I needed to remind me of how fucking good I’ve been doing.
So now I’m on my fourth joint in the last 40 minutes or so, I’m crying but its good, I have my yoga class booked and I cancelled my bad idea plans.
Want to see more of the emotional roller coaster of my mind?
Tune in, I have no idea when! I either write 6x a day or once a month. 🙂