Desperate for a Change.

Now playing: Kygo’s “Stranger Things.”

I have had multiple posts in my drafts since I was 19 days abstinent. Today is day 24. Fuck all of those posts — tomorrow I go back to work and I am anxious about it. At first, the point of going to rehab was to moderate my drinking and stop my cocaine use, but other drugs were fine. I didn’t have problems with them, so I didn’t see the issue. But after starting groups and hearing others share, really digging down deep and doing some work, I realized that was just a fucking reservation. A reservation for relapse. “I can do MDMA at this music festival but no drinking or coke so it’s okay.” And then everything immediately would go downhill, because coke helps MDMA comedowns, and then coke comedowns are the worst and your brain tells you just one more line will help and pretty soon you’re locked away in your room every night, snorting away the loneliness you’ve created for yourself.

I don’t want that anymore. I can remember the feelings I had on molly during my favorite EDM set; the way I was at ease, feeling the music, thinking of all of the good times I’ve had and the people I’ve had them with. But I can’t remember the whole show. I have hardly any videos and the ones I have are shit. Because I wasn’t fully present. So what’s the point of remembering the feeling if I can’t remember like, the performance? The counselors keep saying that with time our brains will reset themselves and we’ll start having fun again. But that it’ll never be “as fun” as when using because we aren’t supposed to have an overabundance of those chemicals in our brains. Initially I interpreted that as “so I’ll never have fun again.” Now it’s “I’ll be able to have real fun.”

I lost myself to drugs and alcohol a long time ago; I don’t know who I am when I am using. But I know that I lie, cheat, and steal, and everything around me falls apart. With recovery, I can create a “me” that I like. And maybe one that other people like too. But I’m not doing this for anyone else; that isn’t the point anymore either. I can’t control what other’s think about me and it doesn’t matter anyway, because what I think of me is the most important. And I’ve lied less even though I didn’t directly say I was in rehab to my family. I told them I wasn’t working, I was in an outpatient program working on mental health and other problems. I’d tell them what I learned. Sometimes part of recovery is knowing who to tell and what you can handle, and I can’t handle the reactions my family would have. Part of me doing this for myself means putting them aside for now. And putting work aside.

Looking back, I have so much guilt relating to work — the way I handled relationships with fellow team members , was late/absent constantly, to the way I organized (or disorganized) my things. There is a lot of anxiety built up around facing repercussions for that; a part of me has fabricated a scenario where I’ll be immediately brought into a meeting — public — and reprimanded for… everything. Some fears are valid (i.e. misfiled paperwork I didn’t get a chance to organize from past cases, current cases missing some paperwork that I should have asked for support with) and others may not be (i.e. being told that I’m on probation due to incompetence, my job is on the line due to medical leave, generally reprimanded without a chance for explanation or improvement.) But this guilt should be an opportunity instead of a deterrent. This will allow me to show and prove to my coworkers that I have changed. I’m not perfect, and I’m not naive as to think that 24 days into recovery I’ve learned all that I need to maintain sobriety, but I’m trying. And that’s what we aim for, isn’t it?

“We claim spiritual progress, not perfection.”

I will walk into my workplace and allow myself to process what I feel. I will not deny myself this imperative right; it’d make me a liar, set me up for emotional relapse, and then what’s keeping me from using? Aside from navigating my own relationship with my work, there’s interpersonal relationships to maneuver. It will be awkward and uncomfortable. I know people are talking about me behind my back — BK has confirmed that at least two people “know,” but he claims they were mostly concerned and not talking shit. Surprisingly, I was worried about my situation being spread around but I was also just interested in how badly people would look if they did trash me. Imagine: your coworker has to go on medical leave for a disability that you find out is related to substance abuse. You spend that time bashing them while asking about them, and finding out they’re doing well. Said person returns — what do you do? In the incredibly toxic place where I work, it’ll be extremely easy to find out who said what but that is so tiring.

My 11:30 AM Saturday NA meeting — not to be confused with the 11:30 AM Sunday NA meeting — the topic was “I’m sick and tired.” I’m sick and tired of getting in my own way. For the longest time, I sat in my counselor’s office or in fucking room 5, and said the right thing. Talked about how I needed to set boundaries, voice my feelings, said that I lost my mentor, who was the most important person in my college career — but it was all bullshit. Bullshit because until I believed what I was saying and fucking did it, it was meaningless. It was all true, and new, and related to the work we were doing. But it wasn’t going to stick. I was fighting myself, still not wanting to go to meetings, still thinking that I’d probably go use the same day I finished the program. Down the line, somehow, thankfully, I changed. And I woke the fuck, realized that yeah — I am the problem. I’m addicted to not feeling, dealing, and.. something else. I can’t remember. The acronym is FDR. Anyway yeah. Sitting in that room with everyone else, who all have so openly and honestly shared, I realized I couldn’t go on like this. I thought AA was dramatic in saying that if someone drank again they’d die, almost immediately, but that’s true. If I went right back to using how I was, and took that many opiates with alcohol, I would die. But there’s no way I could go slowly because I’d trigger a part of my brain that automatically goes for excess. I’m sick and tired of fooling myself, faking it. I’m fucking powerless — over drugs and alcohol. But that’s okay. Because I can take back my power.

There are so many things that I still need to work on — not personalizing, my codependency, generally problematic behaviors. But now, I have the time and the tools to work on them. I’m not running away. I’ve been practicing them. I tell people when I don’t want to do something. I take some time to formulate my thoughts and use “When you, I feel” statements. If I am angry, I do the same. Because if I am the problem in this situation, drugs and alcohol are just symptoms. Symptoms I’m treating (with abstinence) so they can’t resurface. For so many years they were what I used to deal with dissatisfaction, anger, overwhelming loneliness and discomfort within myself so extreme that I couldn’t even imagine anyone liking me. It’s a tried and true method that worked until it didn’t; until using and drinking became the reason that you isolated and withdrew, that no one wanted to invite you places, that you grew to truly hate yourself and do things you never thought you would.

It hurts so much to think of the times I’ve hurt people because of addiction; all the times my friends had to throw me into ubers because I could barely walk, the time I ruined my sister’s 20th birthday by being trashed, all of the work events I’ve made a fool of myself at. Addiction took precious time away from me. My actions took time away from me. My inability to communicate ruined work and ruined home. At the very least I owe myself the opportunity to practice saying, “Hey, I feel overwhelmed. Can I get back to you on that? When is it due by?” If I don’t voice what I want, how can I get it? I’m not a child anymore, I don’t have to silence myself so that others don’t have to worry about me. I don’t have to act like it’s all okay when I’m spiraling downward. “Someone else’s emergency is not my own,” and it’s okay for me to say no to things. If I get guilt tripped, then I can try to have that conversation as well. I’m not even ashamed to say that I have a problem. It’s not a joke either. It’s something that I may be able to talk about in a lighthearted way, but those around me know that I’m serious about it this time. Fuck, I know that I’m serious this time.

My stupid saying was always “I can stop doing drugs and drinking. I just need help not starting again.” And y’know what? I got that in a weird ass way. Firstly, I realized that no, I can’t ‘just stop’ because without this program, I’d gotten like, nowhere with abstaining. And second of all, I have so much power within me that’ll help keep me from going out and picking up. Just knowing that there are things out there is a reason. It’s going to take me so much more, there’s so much recovery still left, which is why I’m still going to five groups a week. And five outside meetings. Because my “12-step meetings are bullshit” ass loves NA and I feel welcome and I can relate to them more than AA and just. I’m giving myself the chance to fucking find a place in the world. Maybe that’ll help too.

BK told me “wow how times have changed” when I didn’t get upset that he called me a druggie. Said I’ve done good and made a lot of progress especially in expressing my emotions. Of course he followed that up with saying I’m still going to get mad because that’s “who I am.” Immediately I told him that that was negative and I’ve worked on my anger a lot. Which, I guess, proves his point. To me it seems both counterproductive but necessary to acknowledge my progress. Without it, I feel like I’m living in a void and my efforts aren’t as obvious as I think they are. But this can sometimes blur the lines between “I like when people comment on positive things I’ve worked on” and “I’m doing this so people see I’ve changed.” As a tangentially related comment, today I had to call my mom out on her constantly saying things like “I just want my child back,” or pointing out my constant “bad mood” when oftentimes it’s me asserting a boundary. The desire to have my growth acknowledged stems from a place of wanting the environment around me to change with me and that takes time. I changed so much in three weeks — it’s entirely insane to think my family dynamics can do the same. Right, I’m also working on “unrealistic expectations” both for myself and of others. That’ll really be tested tomorrow.

So now it’s 10:52 PM and I really want to hit up this 8:30 AM meeting tomorrow even if its just for like, 45 minutes. Which means it’s bed time. If you read this, thank you. If you’ve read this and my previous posts, thank you even more. I don’t plan on discarding this blog because as sporadically as I’ve posted, just knowing I have this as an outlet is so helpful. I type as if I’m talking to someone because then I feel like someone’s listening. That I’m not alone.

Thanks for helping me not feel alone.

 

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!