Every time I fart, I fear it’s going to be a wet one so I rush to the toilet and sputter out some liquid and little shit. Finally the shit is shitting out of my system.
This happens every time I stop. Withdraws have never been debilitating for me, fortunately. Probably because my psych has me so pumped up on benzos. My legal addiction. The one that’s OK. Who knows. Having a runny nose and shitting a lot is not really that bad. People talk to me about getting dope sick or sweating or feeling like death. I just can’t empathize. And at the very least, I know I’m cleansing my colon of all the packed fudge from my last binge.
Now that it’s been a couple of days, I’m feeling better again. It’s the beginning of the usual cycle. I get clean for a little while, recognize the benefits, and then just decide fuck all, I’ll get high because I have the money; have the time; have a bullshit reason. I want it to be different this time. Just like I have all the others. Melodramatic me with my last post. I’m back at home. My father loves me. The air is clear. I want it to stay this way. I spent Sunday in bed drinking apple cider mimosas.
I don’t know what is so hard about quitting. I commit to myself, but I can’t make the resolve. I’m in constant denial. I don’t need help. I just need a good reason to just stop and put an end to this soul-sucking, money-draining, family-ruining, relationship-shitting-on behavior.
Focus on the good shit, right? Four days since my last shot, I feel a lot better.
It’s like when I quit smoking pot. It sucked for a long time, but then I realized there is a difference between pot vs. no pot. And I preferred no pot (even though I still preferred yes opiates.)
I love and hate heroin. I watched a documentary, Seduced and Abandoned, about raising money for a movie. That title and phrase directly applies to heroin.
It’s far too easy to find a reason to use and after you do, there’s no more. And unlike a movie, the lights don’t go dim and then come back on a second later so you can leave and go home. They stay off for a while. You never really leave. The more you want to use; the longer the darkness. The less you want to continue being a drug addict; the shorter.
At least I have a normal salaried, career-relevant job now, a second relevant part-time job at a non-profit, and a third volunteer commitment to a cause I’m passionate about. These are reasons to stay clean, but the challenges they present are what scare me. I don’t want to fail and when faced with something new, it’s so much easier to run and hide in my bed with a tourney, a bag of freshies, and some good dope for a couple of days.
Even if my “recovery journey” (that sounds so fucking gay and I can’t articulate in any other manner) has been wrought with relapses, they’ve been fewer and far between each time. The trajectory is a positive one. I’m doing better in life. The more things get back to my personal sense of what is normal, the more I want this to just end. Of course, as soon as I delete my numbers, I get texts telling me to come through, or I bump into someone who’s always holding at that exact moment where I just realized I have a few hundred in my pocket and I’m so proud of myself for not spending it on drugs. Nothing worth doing is easy: a constant reminder stapled to the inside of my eyelids.
Ultimately though, heroin will abandon me. And I would much rather abandon it.