You Always Say It’s the Best.

Now playing: The Weeknd’s “The Hills.”

I’ve got a lot to say today, so buckle up kids.

Let me start off by saying that this morning, I woke up at 7:38 am, showered and got ready, and caught the 8:26 bus to my talking circle group. It must be months since I’ve been able to do this; that’s a victory in and of itself. To start my day without stress, frantic free — I’d forgotten it was possible. Perhaps it’s because my body feels better, looks better, and isn’t hungover every morning. Maybe.

So talking circle today was really heavy. It was very goals focused and since my meeting with my counselor yesterday, I’m not sure what my goal is. Honestly, before February 2018 I thought that I was somehow engaging in moderation. Like, if I don’t do a gram of coke in two days, then it’s not a problem. Yeah right.

Limits is what that was. I’ve tried to set limits for myself i.e. with alcohol. I’ve said hard “no’s” to continuing to use certain stimulants — I’m even reducing my caffeine intake! But that’s not a goal, or that’s what I’ve concluded. My sober brain finds it easy to say that I’ll only drink 2x a week and it’ll stop at 3 drinks. But when moderation is discussed, you have to acknowledge that after 3 drinks, you have a choice to make and you are not in a place to make that choice. In a perfect world, I’d pace myself, consume the drinks over a period of 3 hours with water in between. What reality tells me is I’d probably down them all in an hour, drink no water, not have eaten properly earlier during the day, keep drinking, and end up laying down in the bathroom of your favorite bar texting BK about how sad you are and how you can’t go home.

I talk a lot about alcohol and not about using other substances and I think that with the exception of cocaine, I moderate them very well. Opiates were being abused, majorly, for a while. Maybe a year and a half. I’d go so far as to mix them with alcohol because apparently, I don’t fear death. There was even the time that I was on like, Tramadol and had drunk one of those $15 bottles of Grey Goose (I think it’s 20 mL?) and even learned that you have to take them before Gabapentin so they work, because they won’t after Gabapentin (if I remember correctly.) But that night wasn’t good, I felt like I was going to die. I even texted BK that but I knew he couldn’t do anything — he doesn’t have my address despite having been to my house multiple times and there’s no way I could have asked a family member to take me to the hospital.

I continued to use them and only stopped in February; oh God, the fucking pain. I’m a total wimp but I don’t think that was it. My whole body ached, I was sick, just — don’t do it kids. Just don’t.

The point of that is that besides alcohol and opiates which I’ve now kicked (almost three months clean!) everything else was fine. Sure, I had to budget about $180 per pay period (biweekly) for blowcaine itself, not counting the alcohol, the occasional molly or shrooms. Or like, whatever the fuck else I wanted. Many of my friends I’ve discovered are drug dealers so like, they’re fine with hooking me up and letting me pay later, or I’d use my credit cards (they take Venmo now!) or like, I’ll admit it: I’ve done shit I don’t like for drugs. In retrospect, something tells me that’s not moderation.

I’m pretty good at moderating things like hallucinogens. Research (Reddit) tells me that it’s not good me to take MDMA more than quarterly due to my mood disorder; I need a higher dosage and it takes longer to take effect which is awful for me. I have a substance abuse problem, I want that instant gratification. Oftentimes that leads to me using more and that’s never good. The opposite of that happened at the last music festival! I took half to see how it’d affect me and I felt comfortable taking the second half on the first day. The second day I only took half. To me, that’s moderation. LSD is moderated in that it might be a yearly thing for me. I still have only done it once but I’d like to try it again. Shrooms I do use more regularly so I’d have to investigate what moderation would mean. Quarterly seems attainable.

Moderating cocaine is like moderating…. something that’s difficult to control, I don’t know, you make up the example. Like controlling the amount of times a baby cries. I cannot and will not even try to do it. Somehow, my self aware highly intelligent self still has the end goal of moderation. My bank account is going to hate me forever. I used to tell BK that I could never imagine my life without blow and I still can’t. It’s not even fun anymore, it’s mostly just there and something I’m comfortable with. Something to do when I’m bored*.

Coke is an expensive, habit forming, brain and nostril destroying habit. So moderation is up in the air but abstinence seems so far away. And maybe it’s because limits are my internal motivations trying to control this thing called addiction without anything external to maintain it. How am I supposed to motivate myself when I started this program without a reason? Nothing’s pushing me forward, not really. Today in a moment of anger at my current work situation I messaged BK “what’s the point?” I left it at that because the full thought was “what’s the point of sobriety if my life falls apart anyway?” Maybe investing in myself isn’t enough either.

Moderation is full of choices: do I order that next drink? Do I pop a molly at this concert? Is it a good idea for me to even go to this event? Abstinence makes the choice for you: Don’t fucking do it.

Something has to mean something, anything, to keep me going. Some people said it was their health, their families, hell even being court or work mandated. Me, I’m just floating. Treatment feels like it’s part of the dream right now even though it’s going well and I’ve met some great new people. Maybe right now my life’s at a point where my goal is to have a goal (PLEASE watch this clip of what I’m referring to.) To have motivation and meaning. Huh. Time to pick up The Stranger again.

Part 2 coming soon* I’ll be touching on boredom and substance misuse. Hell yeah.

P.S. title chosen because no, Abel, I am not the real me when I’m fucked up. Or I’m trying not to be.

 

I Wanna Take You for Granted.

Now playing: Matchbox Twenty’s “Push.” 

I know, I know — you missed me yesterday. But I had nothing to say. I needed some time away seeing as how my previous post was one of those dramatic ones that I wasn’t expecting to ever write. Funny how I forgot recovery would have good and bad days.

Today has been better.

Except I injured my foot twice in two days and the pain’s pretty bad, but given my history of narcotic and prescription pain pills abuse, I don’t want anything and I wouldn’t be given anything anyway. So there’s that. Just something else to deal with. Work — where this injury happened — has also been weird. I was reprimanded for something that I shouldn’t have been reprimanded for, and it’s affected my entire mentality. Essentially I was accused of not wanting to do my job, of insubordination.

When that happened, all I could think of was “I want a drink.” I even asked my coworker if she wanted to go out but she had to get home. I never realized just how many Thursdays after work I’d go to the bar with BK and drink away my workday stress. Because work sucks the life out of me and I only have so much energy.

That sort of, kind of, except not really brings me to the point that I wanted to touch upon earlier in the week but didn’t because I suck — alcohol! And how pretty much everyone drinks and it’s everywhere.

My bitch ass is trying to “get sober.” Whatever that means. For right now, it means drinking a maximum of 3 drinks, two days a week. That is nothing compared to what it was before but it is also (I think) manageable and attainable. Challenges with that goal are that if I’m drinking vodka Redbulls, 3 drinks go by very quickly and before I know it I’ve drank so many that I’ve started drinking Jameson and I end up on the floor. Five times a week. Funny how alcoholism works.

But like, I always think about how my friends go out for drinks multiple times a week and don’t seem to have a drinking problem and can control themselves. They have stressful jobs too. So what’s different between us? Sure they don’t like, do drugs, but they have and drugs don’t necessarily mean you have a problem. My intake counselor said it might just be genetics or bad luck. Or the fact that the first time I had a drink it was to quell a deep loneliness and I was 10.

But who knows, really?

The worst thing about this stupid sobriety thing isn’t the fact that I want to use, it’s those stupid Facebook memes. The ones from those pages your aunt likes that say stuff about how you’re spending your weekend drinking a bottle of wine, or how you used to lie to your parents about spending the weekend with your bff and it was really keeled over drunk. God, have some respect. It’s fucking normalized problematic behavior.

Everyone I match with on Tinder is like “let’s go get drinks!” You are a damn stranger, how about we go to Starbucks? Every profile has a photo of them with a beer. First of all, beer is disgusting unless it is laced with acid and I’m already drunk. Alcohol is everywhere and it’s just never going to go away.

And I need to learn to say no to it. But I can’t. BK and I went to the bar where I got (slightly) drunk before a concert (then I got trashed at the concert. Lovely.) He repeatedly asked if I wanted a drink. I kept shrugging because I honestly didn’t know if I did. Looking back, I probably didn’t want anything, because I didn’t want to be out at all. Sometimes I experience that pesky discomfort I mentioned before and I don’t allow myself to be present, so naturally when he brought me a cider with a shot of fireball, I drank it. Or most of it. I hadn’t eaten (because eating is hard when I’m actively using) and if I had kept going, it’d be bad. The glass sat there on the table, mocking me, calling out to me, as if I was doing something terrible by not drinking it. And BK completely understood and said if he wasn’t sober, he’d have finished it. Because we’re alcoholics.

So then shame took over because I wanted to finish it, not because I was enjoying it, but because it’s alcohol and I’m obligated to. Same goes for the day we hit up That Alley and he bought me a bottle and proceeded to tell me I’m only fun when I drink but amended it to say that it seems I’m only having fun when I drink. (But I am fun when I drink, or roll, or trip, just FYI). I didn’t want the bottle, I didn’t want to drink, but I took it and did anyway. He told me, with such fucking ease, “then you don’t have to take the alcohol.”

Wouldn’t that be fucking nice?

But I haven’t drank in a while. I don’t keep track, though. That way I won’t be disappointed. I haven’t drank and I haven’t used. I still want to. Cravings are still pretty bad though I suspect that’s more psychological than physical at this point. I work in an area that’s drug heavy and though I’ve never purchased drugs there — and would never — it’s tempting every time I walk there.

Alcohol is everywhere and it’s going to be everywhere. It’s far too important in this universe to ever go away. People drink and don’t become alcoholics and then some do and develop problems and they get help and they come through on the other side. I want to get to that side. I want to be able to sit at a bar with some friends and have one ridiculously sugary drink and be done after that. I want to experience things, like my friends birthday at a bar with a lot of coin operated machine games and feel welcome instead of out of place and unwanted; to be able to join in conversations without thoughts of wanting to down a bottle, pop a molly, or snort a gram. Let’s face it, snorting a gram would have me depressed after 45 minutes anyway and who wants that when you’re supposed to be having fun?

BTW ever since I stopped using, I’ve been eating like a fucking pig and I’m pretty sure I’ve gained at least 5 lbs. I’d complain but these enchiladas are delicious. Oh well, back to Leah Remini’s Scientology show. Ta ta!