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..............
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