My using became my priority. I didn't care about my business, my health, my family, or anything else. As long as I could get high life was ok. If I couldn't get high, I would lie and manipulate the situation until I could. I started writing bad checks to either buy crap I didn't need, or to cash to buy pills.
I managed to cover my checks as best as I could, but I just got to the point in which I didn't care about the consequences of my using anymore. I couldn't get out of bed without something in my system. I would blow off appointments at work if I was high. I felt like I couldn't function if I wasn't high.
I also began stealing money from my parents. Something I still feel really bad about. I can't remember what brought everything to a head, but somehow my parents figured out I was on everything I was on. So they began watching me like a hawk.
I didn't really care what they thought about it either. It's my life and I was going to do what I wanted. But they had other plans. They sat me down one day and said either I was going to treatment, or they were going to throw me out, and disown me. So I relented and planned to go to treatment against my better judgement.
At work I asked the girls to just say I was gone, and take care of my clients while I was gone, but with the understanding that when I returned my clients would come back to me. (They never called once while I was gone, or bothered to see how I was doing.)
My parents chose a facility down in Milwaukee, they figured it was far enough away that if I decided I was leaving I wasn't going to be walking home. It was a womens program, and I could've stayed for 6 months, or longer, but I had it in my head that I was only staying for 30 days.
So my mom dumped me off at treatment. I was never so scared in all my life. I just wanted to go home, or run, but where would I run to? I wanted to hide from myself most of all. I didn't want to face anything, it would be easier to keep on pretending. I also was clueless to the fact that all the crap I was coming off of was messing with my emotions along with my body. I was feaking out.
When I arrived it was in the afternoon, so everyone was in their groups.After they let out I met girls that were all hugging me as they met me, which was way bizarre. I wasn't usued to people being nice. Especially if they weren't expecting anything.
There were two houses. One used to belong to the priest, and the other was the old nunery. I was in the old priests house. It was a crummy neighborhood, but next door was a beautiful Catholic church. Most of the women that I met were right out of the ghetto, a lot had prostituted to support their drug habits, had smell children, and all around lived a much tougher life than I could've imagined. If I had been more receptive to treatment, I think I would have had more appreciation for what was around me, but I wasn't ready for this. My higher power was trying to show me something, but I was still blind.
There were groups and classes all day. We weren't allowed off the premises unless we were given permission to go to meetings, or were doing a job search. We weren't allowed caffiene or sugar either. They gave me a pile of homework. I finished it within a few days, and thought I was some sort of super hero. I had it in my head that 30 days of treatment was somehow going to "fix" me. Little did I know................
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Money Does Not Equal Success
So I rented a chair in a local salon. I met with the owner a few times, and she seemed really nice, supportive, and was successful. I figured she would serve as a good example for me. I also wanted out of dipshits house. I needed to make money in order to get my own place.
I had began to use morphine and oxycontin on weekends along with benzodiazapines. (Xanax, Valium, Etc.) My drinking became almost non-existant. I stuck with drugs that were less obvious. At least I thought they were less obvious.
So I signed my lease, and went shopping to stock up on all of the supplies I would need in order to run my own business. I started on July 1st that year, and soon became reasonably steady. I had a decent following starting. I got a checking account, and actually started out being somewhat responsible with the money I was making.
Soon after I started the owner and I began partying on weekends. We went to parties, and on several occasions she gave me some pills. Her mom's potent benzos, and her own ADD meds. We were fast becoming friends. Since she wasn't of age yet I would also buy her alcohol.
Things came to head with the jerk I was living with, and I moved out one day while he was at work. Since I had limited access I only moved the important things, and ended up having to go back for the rest. I was back at my parents house yet again with the hope that I would be getting my own place soon.
With the money I had coming in I had more than enough to spare for more pills on more occasions. I started using pills 3-4 days a week, and then 4-5 days a week, and eventually daily. When I couldn't find any I was either too depressed and panicky to function, or starting to get dope sick.
I would also use at work, therefore the quality of work I did began to suffer. I was always leaving to score more dope. I tried to get as much as I could everyday so I never had to go without. I would snort so much morphine or Xanax at work I was often nodding out if I sat down, or just way out of it.
I would go home to my parents, sit down in the recliner and nod out. My dad knew something was up, my mom always made excuses for me. I often couldn't remember what I did once I started to nod out.
Right around this time I also got engaged to my on again off again boyfriend of 5 years. I spent most of my time at his place because we both used and that way I could isolate from the rest of the world.
The owner of the shop knew I was using heavily, but didn't know what to do. The other woman that worked there just went out of her way to be as rude and nasty as possible. I'm sure I made them look nad as well as myself.
Soon the only reason I went to work was just to make money to support my habit. I didn't care too much about what kind of work I was doing, as long as I got paid.I didn't even want to work, or run a business. I just wanted all the financial rewards that came with a business.
Using was numbing me out, and when I was somewhat lucid, I was completely miserable and didn't even know who, or what I was anymore. I just knew that I had to keep using, and nothing was going to get in the way of my using..........
I had began to use morphine and oxycontin on weekends along with benzodiazapines. (Xanax, Valium, Etc.) My drinking became almost non-existant. I stuck with drugs that were less obvious. At least I thought they were less obvious.
So I signed my lease, and went shopping to stock up on all of the supplies I would need in order to run my own business. I started on July 1st that year, and soon became reasonably steady. I had a decent following starting. I got a checking account, and actually started out being somewhat responsible with the money I was making.
Soon after I started the owner and I began partying on weekends. We went to parties, and on several occasions she gave me some pills. Her mom's potent benzos, and her own ADD meds. We were fast becoming friends. Since she wasn't of age yet I would also buy her alcohol.
Things came to head with the jerk I was living with, and I moved out one day while he was at work. Since I had limited access I only moved the important things, and ended up having to go back for the rest. I was back at my parents house yet again with the hope that I would be getting my own place soon.
With the money I had coming in I had more than enough to spare for more pills on more occasions. I started using pills 3-4 days a week, and then 4-5 days a week, and eventually daily. When I couldn't find any I was either too depressed and panicky to function, or starting to get dope sick.
I would also use at work, therefore the quality of work I did began to suffer. I was always leaving to score more dope. I tried to get as much as I could everyday so I never had to go without. I would snort so much morphine or Xanax at work I was often nodding out if I sat down, or just way out of it.
I would go home to my parents, sit down in the recliner and nod out. My dad knew something was up, my mom always made excuses for me. I often couldn't remember what I did once I started to nod out.
Right around this time I also got engaged to my on again off again boyfriend of 5 years. I spent most of my time at his place because we both used and that way I could isolate from the rest of the world.
The owner of the shop knew I was using heavily, but didn't know what to do. The other woman that worked there just went out of her way to be as rude and nasty as possible. I'm sure I made them look nad as well as myself.
Soon the only reason I went to work was just to make money to support my habit. I didn't care too much about what kind of work I was doing, as long as I got paid.I didn't even want to work, or run a business. I just wanted all the financial rewards that came with a business.
Using was numbing me out, and when I was somewhat lucid, I was completely miserable and didn't even know who, or what I was anymore. I just knew that I had to keep using, and nothing was going to get in the way of my using..........
Friday, June 3, 2011
Homeward Bound
My using finally spiraled to point of me not being able to hold a job for very long. I had a few short lived jobs, and my mom tried to help me financially a little, but soon I had to move home. I felt defeated by this, like my life was over and I was a complete failure.
I managed to get a job fairly quick when I was home, but I spent every spare moment I had getting comepletely wasted. I soon began to date a guy who introduced me to Dilaudid, a potent painkiller. I loved the way it made me feel, it surely killed the pain.
It struck me odd that instead of throwing up like I always used to on Morphine, I was now getting incredibly high. I just assumed that my body chemistry had changed, and apparently in my favor.
My job was short lived, and I broke up with the Dilaudid guy. I My dad had me bartending at a Knights of Columbus dinner when I met yet another jerkbag in my life. He was a great enabler, but then would get angry when I used.
He allowed me to use until I was in a stooper. I would up in detox one Christmas. (I still feel really bad about that. My poor parents.)
He bought me paraphenalia, gave me cash, let me take his car when my license got revoked, and tried to get my family and anyone else who would listen to hate my guts. I went out with him, because on appearance he seemed like the type of guy I "should" be with. Underneath it all he's a porn addicted wierdo, and possibly the most mentally abusive freak I've ever known.
So I did would an sick addict would do, I moved in with him. I got a second OWI just before I moved in with him, and had to beg him to take me anywhere. Then when I'd disappear and use, he would threaten me. Say he was going to lock my cat out in the garage, or lock me out in the cold.
He would also narc me out to my family at every turn. Took me years to be rid of him completely. By now no one can stand him, and I must admit if he stood close enough I may just hit him. I certainly wasn't a saint by any means, but that guy is the biggest, phoniest jerk I've ever known. I think the fact that he was so fake made me livid.
The more he tried to control, the more I bucked. I used out of hurt, anger, and every emotion there ever could be. Things were great! I used. Things were terrible! I used.
During this time period I also sought (on my own) outpatient couseling, but I had no desire to stop. I thought just showing up at these sessions were supposed to magically cure me, or something. After I did the voluntary thing, I had to go on account of my 2nd OWI.
They suggested 12 step meetings. So the first meeting I ever went to was an AA meeting. As soon as they brought up the "God" thing I panicked and it was many years before I went back to any 12 step groups.
I think my logical brain was trying to peak out in these times, but my addict brain was too powerful and stomped out any thought of trying to get straight. At this point I could string together a couple weeks to a month clean, and then I was back at it ten-fold.
I would try to set dates to stop, try and figure out ways to ween myself and nothing worked. I had surrendered to the fact that I was an addict and I always would be. But I didn't really want to be the way I was, but I didn't know where to go from where I was at. It's really quite an exhausting way of life, or should I say death.
Well wasn't sure what to do, or what to try next. I knew I had to get out of the jerks house, and make my own way. I decided to rent a chair at a local salon and run my own business. Surely financial success would make me happy enough to stop using..............
I managed to get a job fairly quick when I was home, but I spent every spare moment I had getting comepletely wasted. I soon began to date a guy who introduced me to Dilaudid, a potent painkiller. I loved the way it made me feel, it surely killed the pain.
It struck me odd that instead of throwing up like I always used to on Morphine, I was now getting incredibly high. I just assumed that my body chemistry had changed, and apparently in my favor.
My job was short lived, and I broke up with the Dilaudid guy. I My dad had me bartending at a Knights of Columbus dinner when I met yet another jerkbag in my life. He was a great enabler, but then would get angry when I used.
He allowed me to use until I was in a stooper. I would up in detox one Christmas. (I still feel really bad about that. My poor parents.)
He bought me paraphenalia, gave me cash, let me take his car when my license got revoked, and tried to get my family and anyone else who would listen to hate my guts. I went out with him, because on appearance he seemed like the type of guy I "should" be with. Underneath it all he's a porn addicted wierdo, and possibly the most mentally abusive freak I've ever known.
So I did would an sick addict would do, I moved in with him. I got a second OWI just before I moved in with him, and had to beg him to take me anywhere. Then when I'd disappear and use, he would threaten me. Say he was going to lock my cat out in the garage, or lock me out in the cold.
He would also narc me out to my family at every turn. Took me years to be rid of him completely. By now no one can stand him, and I must admit if he stood close enough I may just hit him. I certainly wasn't a saint by any means, but that guy is the biggest, phoniest jerk I've ever known. I think the fact that he was so fake made me livid.
The more he tried to control, the more I bucked. I used out of hurt, anger, and every emotion there ever could be. Things were great! I used. Things were terrible! I used.
During this time period I also sought (on my own) outpatient couseling, but I had no desire to stop. I thought just showing up at these sessions were supposed to magically cure me, or something. After I did the voluntary thing, I had to go on account of my 2nd OWI.
They suggested 12 step meetings. So the first meeting I ever went to was an AA meeting. As soon as they brought up the "God" thing I panicked and it was many years before I went back to any 12 step groups.
I think my logical brain was trying to peak out in these times, but my addict brain was too powerful and stomped out any thought of trying to get straight. At this point I could string together a couple weeks to a month clean, and then I was back at it ten-fold.
I would try to set dates to stop, try and figure out ways to ween myself and nothing worked. I had surrendered to the fact that I was an addict and I always would be. But I didn't really want to be the way I was, but I didn't know where to go from where I was at. It's really quite an exhausting way of life, or should I say death.
Well wasn't sure what to do, or what to try next. I knew I had to get out of the jerks house, and make my own way. I decided to rent a chair at a local salon and run my own business. Surely financial success would make me happy enough to stop using..............
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