Frankly, I never wanted to be "sober." Once I figured out how I was abusing substances to numb my feelings, I stopped doing it. I left all people, places & things behind if/when I was reminded of my past. I changed my behavior, particularly avoiding anything to do with SUBSTANCE ABUSE, especially those prone to it.
As far as I was concerned, I had this problem licked. So I thought. What I've come to realize is that pain is an inevitable part of life, which makes it easy to fall back into old habits. We all use interchangeable things to numb it, whether they be good or bad. What's bad for one person may work for the next. I don't really judge people based on what they use-it's simply a question of how often and WHY.
The fact of the matter is that my thing had always been drugs. I liked to get high. I honestly believed I'd die, at the ripe age of 65 or so, hanging from the rafters in a disco club high as a kite on ecstasy or whatever evolution of stimulant type drug was around. Who cares if I looked like a lunatic? It's MY LIFE, right?
The thing is, life is full of pains that hurt enough that I crossed a line from occasional use to more than twenty one days continuously and, bam! I got a habit.
The habit brought bad on top of bad, until one day I had nothing left but the habit. A lot of people are willing to stay there. I'm not. No pain in the world could be great enough for me to ditch my dreams. No substance could ever be strong enough to kill the immense disappointment I'd feel if I let that happen, which is why I hadn't ever let anything become a priority over food, shelter, clothing.
That is, until my security and all the things I worked my ass off to attain where ripped right out from under me by my own mother. It's hard not to stay wasted in that situation, for anyone. Really fucking hard.
My run was brought to a screeching halt, thanks to me picking up the most devastating drug I've ever tried. Although I did manage to keep my beautiful skin, hair and teeth (with pampering, self care), the internal effect seems daunting. I'm tired. Very tired. I wonder if I got schizophrenia because I think I hear music all the time, even though I've been off that crap for more than six months now. I'll never, ever do it again.
It takes twenty-one days to make or break any habit, good or bad. I developed the bad habit of substance abuse again, but I broke the habit on 12/27/13, when I stopped using booze to numb out. It's been far more than twenty one days since I've used any numbers, including doctor prescribed Klonopin. I am now in the safe zone.
The mechanics of habit are a scientifically proven fact. Calling substance abuse a "disease" is a cop-out for everyone involved.
Now that I've broken those habits, with time, I get to do other things to cope with my feelings. I spent months resting, grieving and working through my physical, mental, spiritual and emotional anguish. Now I'm back to writing and doing things to improve myself and my life.
Don't believe me? Try it. Start or stop something for twenty-one days. Nothing will make this fundamental truth more clear to you, than a successful attempt with any behavior you choose to gain or lose.
Through my own extensive positive and negative experiences with making and breaking habits, I live this.
Something else I know is that there does come a point when it's too late, even though we want to believe it never is. I came close. I have made a conscience decision to do all I can to live my dreams. For this reason, I am taking all the time I need to get better, by myself, for myself.
I am. Finally.
As far as what I'm doing for treatment. Well, I've been screaming for help for months, without any success. I have left multiple messages at several mental health providers, including non 12-Step substance abuse specialists, whom haven't returned my calls. This is in addition to, literally, over a year spent on the phone with the organizations that manage my care. I've gotten absolutely nowhere.
I do, finally, have a doctor's appointment for medication on Thursday where I only want to find out if I can be completely done with Klonopin with increasingly better days or will I need to taper off of it to cut the w/d cycle. Other than that, I am not going to take anymore synthetic medication. I will return to medicinal marijuana in the future, when I am legally allowed to do so, if I feel I need it.
No matter what you may have been told, marijuana does NOT effectively numb emotions. It works magic for physical ailments, including panic disorder.
Now that I'm settled into my own, spa-like apartment, I realize I am gonna have to do this one hundred percent alone, which is just like my friend, Amy Lee Coy did it. Her book, FROM DEATH DO I PART: How I Freed Myself From Addiction, has become my model for getting back to me, for me.
Although I may never boast seven years free from nicotine, drugs, alcohol and medication, like Amy has, I can strive to reach my own goals through actions that support my desires.
Substance abuse never will.
In conjunction with Amy's book, I've been blessed to be one of the first people to enroll in her new, online course, Self Recovery of Self pilot course, which is an inspirational video series where Amy outlines what I hope will become a new, productive model of recovery worldwide, since it feels to me that I am truly getting better for the first time in too many years of struggle, with a realistic and definite solution to stop the insanity.
We rest. We heal. We move on.
No Cult Required.
Thank you, Amy.
And, thank you all for still being here.
In the next few months, I will focus on what I will continue to do in support of my true recovery from my supposed "recovery" in alcoholics anonymous. Although is sucked to have to spill it, I'm excited that I get to be your lab rat, minus the chemicals, lies, emotional, physical, mental and spiritual abuse conveyed with the 12 Step Model. This is gonna be EPIC!
'Till Next Time,
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