Tag Archive | opiates

Unexpectedly sad and blue.

Husband took Son  to the movies.  He had told me they were going to spend time together, but for some reason when they started preparing to actually go out I started feeling really left out and lonely. I don’t know if it’s because I have been housebound for the past couple of weeks or what but I really felt lonely and sad and left out.

Today has the added complication of being the anniversary of my brother’s death. On October 30th 2007 my 20 year old brother finally did what everyone has been fearing and fatally overdosed. He had gotten hooked on those pain killers, was drinking heavily, and mixing the opiates, alcohol, and benzos.

At the time of his death, he had already overdosed multiple times. So when we first got the news, that it appeared he had taken too many pills, and that he was unresponsive and rushed to the hospital, I was scared for him but felt sure that he would get through this.

Before I lost my brother, I somehow thought the people that were closest to me were somehow off limits for tragedy. I felt like people that I loved were meant to go through hard times and come out stronger on the other side. That was the way it always had been, so I had no reason to believe anything different. It was a terrible shock to find out otherwise.

I still very clearly remember the day of and the week after losing him. It seems like a dreadfully unfair irony. There are so many things that I want to remember that I can’t seem to, and yet this thing that I would desperately like to block out I can’t seem to forget.

I remember the hours spent at my parents house leading up to the wake, after the wake, after the funeral. I also spent hours with a few of Brother’s closest friends cleaning up his room.

There were lots of ashes and cigarette butts, pill bottles and Jack Daniels bottles. Random pills stuffed in crevices of furniture. My brother was also compulsive about keeping a journal. And he had milk crates filled with notebooks. Some of them had prose, some poetry and many of them had his cartooning.

I remember marveling how death takes away dignity and privacy. Just due to a miscalculation of exactly how much his body could tolerate, all of Brother’s dirty little secrets were out there for everyone to see. In life, he had been quite particular about what writings and cartoons he showed to which people. After he passed everyone had their hands all over everything.

Right now in my own recovery journey, I am in an awkward space trying to transition to a different medication routine as I’m facing multiple surgeries. I find this incredibly frustrating some days trying to find the right Dr trying to get the Dr to agree on the proper routine for me all of which is hindered by lately being stuck not having safe and proper transportation. I’m incredibly afraid of not having this settled before winter time with the snow setting in. Even so, even feeling like I am NOT in the best routine for my situation everyday that I am present with my family and for my family is better then even my best day of active addiction. So yeah I struggle right now I’m super blue but I carry on.

Please forgive any typos or inconsistencies in this post. I used speech to text software to compose this. My hands hurt terribly and I still needed to write so this is the result. Thank you for being a place for me to vent.


Stupidity standoff

Husband and I are both waiting for the other person to do some cleaning up around the house. He feels like I should because he’s at school all day. I feel like he should because he’s healthier and more able-bodied than me. But we’re both stupidly stubborn and nothing is getting done.

I really, really  want a life that’s different than this. One with some built in escape. Some something. Something else..to get me through this. But I guess that’s the addict in me talking now. Hmm.. what can be done to shut her up?

A meaningless black cauldron of swirling failure..

Today’s title is part of a quote from Baljeet, a character on Phineas and Ferb, one of our family favorites. The episode is posted above but in case you don’t feel like spending 20 minutes, this is the exchange from which the quote is taken.

Is everything ok?

If by ok you mean that my life is meaningless, black cauldron of swirling failure then yes, everything is groovy.

That’s not at all what I meant by ok!

Anyway, humor aside, I have been really struggling lately with shame and depression. My eating and cravings for other things have been out of control, probably because persuing the wls and some of my other doctor’s appointments have been pusing me to deal with my food issues. I also find myself relentlessly approval seeking and feeling like even more of a failure when I don’t get the response I am looking for from whomever I am seeking approval from at the moment, be it Husband, various medical professionals, friends, WordPress, etc etc.

I’ve decided to do another blog commitment to try and help myself at least somewhat by regular writing. I think I’ll do a 30 in 30 this time, as 90 posts in 90 days was good for me, but also a daunting undertaking and I would like to be able to finish what I start.

So this is the first of my 30 in 30. An added twist I’d like to add to this commitment is that I will end each post with at least one thing I am grateful for from that day. One thing my hardass counselor taught me was how much cultivating an attitude of gratitude helps you get through difficult times.

Today I am grateful that Son’s first attendence at the youth group he’s been looking forward to joining went very well. It makes me happy to see him happy and accepted in a positive place.

The heart and the butterfly…


I absolutely love this necklace Daughter gave me for Mother’s Day. She gives beautiful jewelry because one of her jobs is working at the Piercing Pagoda at the mall. We looked at several different “Mom” pendants before settling on this one.  It was perfect with the pretty script,  the nice long chain, the heart and the butterfly.

Butterflies have kind of been a talisman for me in recovery.  At one of the first meetings that I really participated in, I saw a story in one of the grapevine magazines that they were giving out to newcomers. this story was not new to me, but it had always been inspiring.

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it had and it could go no further.

Then the man decided to help the butterfly, so he took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings. The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly. What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life. If God allowed us to go through our life without any obstacles, it would cripple us. We would not be as strong as what we could have been. And we could never fly.

(author unknown)

I cling to this story when I get discouraged.  I know that God must have something great for me and that if I don’t give up my wings will unfurl and I will be able to take flight!

3 things I did during active addiction that I cringe to think about now..

I have been in substance abuse treatment since March 10, 2013. I am by no means perfect but I have managed to stay in compliance with the same program since then, without any use or abuse of my drug of choice, prescription painkillers. Having a clear head means remembering some things that you’d just as soon forget though, and as I’ve been struggling lately, I felt inspired to post a few of these things to remind myself why I never want to be that woman again.

1. I neglected my children’s needs for my high or due to my withdrawals. At the time, I blamed it on my health (and I do have legitimate health problems) but the reality was I was heavily abusing any opiate (also sometimes benzos) I could get my hands on. So that had me super high and out of it at times and when I was withdrawing I would be angry, sick and unavailable to them. Daughter suffered for this in many ways that Son did not end up as she was older. It has been painful for me to see and know, as she’s now in college, if I’d been there for her when I was supposed to she wouldn’t have nearly as many issues with math and math anxiety. And math is important to her long term goals as she wants to be a nurse. Son was in the second grade when I detoxed and I have been an active part of his education since then. He’s now finishing 4th grade and his progress has been amazing. I do often wonder, though, how much his anxiety issues and stammer are my fault. Nonetheless, as imperfect as I was and am, I know I am a huge percent better mom now. I make sure he has all kinds of things that I couldn’t or wouldn’t do for Daughter. She is happy about this. When things were at their worst with the pills, she’d sometimes scream into my drugged out face,”Get your crap together! Don’t you dare do this to him too!!”

2. I drove, loaded, with the kids in the car. It’s only by the grace of God that all I ever did was put small, cosmetic damage type dents. I have a dear friend that crashed with her 3 kids in the backseat and 2+ years later, their lives are still forever changed. Friend has made amazing progress and even managed after serving time to get full custody of 2 of her 3 kids. Her eldest lives with her dad, and only sees her mom on the weekends that her dad deems Friend worthy. As she is still in a sober house living situation and just barely got the other 2 back this isn’t something Friend is ready to take to court.

3. I overdosed on multiple occasions. Sometimes, I didn’t know what happened. One night, I mixed a bunch of Percocet, caffeine pills, and Klonopin. Back then Daughter and I used to go to the all night Laundromat to do 2-3 weeks worth of laundry at a time. Husband was super controlling and rage prone back then and we would kind of look forward to these trips. That night however, I was on edge about something, so I bummed a few Klonopin off my Mom. I felt mellow after the first one. But then I took a few more Percs and a couple of No Doze, with the idea of getting the pain relief, motivation and energy to get through the night. They hit me weird, however, and all of a sudden it seemed like a good idea to pop another 2 Klonopin. I don’t remember much of what happened after that except 2 things that stand out clearly.

First, I remember being woken up by Daughter screaming my name and lightly smacking my cheeks. I was reclined in the driver’s seat of our car with the radio blaring Lady Gaga, and Daughter kept saying,”You weren’t breathing! You weren’t breathing.” That is scary as hell (for obvious reasons) and also because we lost my brother in 2007 due to that same type of overdose. He mixed Percocet and Klonopin with who knows what else all the time but for some reason, on 10/30/07 he ended up with just the right opiate/benzo cocktail to just go to sleep and then stop breathing and by the time they found him it was too late.

Second major highlight of that messed up night was when I got home and went to go pee before bed. I vaguely remember going in the bathroom, then the next thing I knew I was on the bathroom floor and my face hurt like hell. I had passed out and hit my face on the heater grate. I blamed it on my bad knees, saying that my knees gave out when I stood up after peeing, but really I had just blacked out. I had a concussion, a cut cheek (within an inch of my left eye) and a badly bruised fat lip. I know Son remembers this at least a little because every now and then he mentions the time I fell and got a “giant purple swelly.”

Other times when I KNEW I had taken too much of one thing or another, I would wait it out, monitoring myself, instead of asking for help from anyone. I would lay on my side, with the idea of not choking should I puke, and set alarms on my phone. I would then wait it out, usually playing solitaire or some other game, self assessing every 45 minutes or so till I felt safe to go to 2 hour increments of time. I never asked for help even though I was scared, sometimes really scared, because I was always MORE scared of someone in power finding out how out of control I was and cutting off my supply.

I also lied, cheated, manipulated and stole from loved ones and even a few strangers on a regular basis. Bottom line though, being so screwed up with my priorities that my precious children and even my own life came second to the almighty opiate is what haunts me the most.

Deep need for something different..

Pain and poverty are crushing me right now. Wondering will I be able to make it out the door to this appointment or where is the money for our next bill coming from or what joint is going to give out on me when I wake up tomorrow.

Husband is being a self righteous prick about the whole thing by constantly reminding me how hurtful my eating habits are. Like I don’t know. It;s an addiction and I am going to have addict behavior towards certain foods.

He has no idea how close I came to relapse last night. I was at Mom’s so Son and I could spend time with Niece before she and Sister go back to Texas. I obsessively thought about stealing one of Mom’s fentanyl patches and chewing my way to oblivion.

I didn’t though, because I’m at a point where even the deepest of misery doesn’t stop me from playing out the consequences of that type of decision in my head. What if I overdosed? Even if I didn’t, everyone would know where the patch went and it would mean more rehab. Which may even mean bringing DCF back in to our lives. Even though that case is closed I still feel like they’re hovering.

I’m still  miserable though. My church is buying me a wheelchair so at least when I go places with Husband i will be able to be wheeled around instead of struggling to  limp along leaning on the walker. It should make some things easier.Still though, I crave numbness

This only makes me want to scratch your eyes out more!

There are days that I know for a fact my bank balance (pitifully low) pain levels ( acutely high) my agitation and anxiety levels (also dangerously high)… all of these things are greatly affecting how I feel about people around me, namely Husband. I am SO bitchy right now. All I want to do is anything I can’t! Go for an angrily fast walk. Go blow money on breakfast out and a bunch of clothes.I’m fucking hungry,angry, lonely, tired. AND I HURT so fucking bad. What am I supposed to do when I feel like this? When mass quantities of fast food followed by oxy oblivion sound like the only answer? What am I supposed to do now?