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Kicking - Parts I & II
Kicking - Parts I & II
I hesitated in posting this for a long time. But I wanted to share something I wrote years ago, after my attempt to "kick" cold turkey. After my mother's death from cancer.
Please, do not read if not inclined.
Just wanted to share.
KICKING - Part I
A drop of sweat squeezes its way out of a hair follicle and unto my temple. It holds. I’m standing in front of the customs official at Yerevan Airport. I’m standing perfectly still. He keeps looking at the picture in my passport, then up into my face. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking this is the same person, but what in hell has she done to herself. I’m thinking about the next two weeks. I’m thinking about the next hour of relative comfort before the gradual, deranged onset of the next two weeks. I’m not thinking about my mother.
I stand perfectly still for hours, minutes, I don’t know. But people around me aren’t still. They’re jostling for their baggage; rushing from window to window; sidestepping the trolleys. The customs official goes away. He comes back. He has a woman with him. She is talking to me in English. I am fluent in Armenian, but I let her talk to me in English. She is very bad at it. It’s almost funny. She speaks.
Why are you visiting Armenia.
I am here to see friends.
What do you have in your luggage.
Who is picking you up?
Do you have any drugs with you.
Technically, that’s true. I’m quite certain she didn’t mean the four grams that are dispersing in my veins as we speak.
She is looking carefully at me. At my eyes. At my pupils. I am standing perfectly still. The drop of sweat begins its slide down my cheek. I could be crying, but I know I’m not.
The ticking is getting slower. I’m convinced the clock is malfunctioning. I dragged it into the spare room when we arrived from the airport. Maybe I should have left it outside. It’s not working properly. The ticking is getting slower.
The television is getting louder. I reach for the remote control and lower the volume. It’s fine, but then it’s louder again. I lower the volume. It gets louder. The television is malfunctioning.
My stomach growls. I cannot eat. I’m too cold. No, I’m too hot. I’m hungry. But, I can’t eat. I can’t eat. I look at the window. It’s too sunny. But at night, it’s too dark. I can hear the ticking in the spare room. It’s getting slower. It’s getting louder. I hold out my hand, trying to keep it steady. I count two ticks. My hand is cold. My hand is clammy. I’m shaking so much I can’t lower the volume on the television, which is getting louder. It’s malfunctioning.
My eyes are staring back at me. The pupils are huge, and they’re shaking. Big black holes, shaking. I can see the insects. They scuttle across my peripheral vision. I turn to them, but they’re gone. I know they’re there. They follow me everywhere I go. I’m like the pied piper. My song is my pain. They go where I go. They feed on my pain.
The pain, the pain, the pain… Red, then white. Red, then white. Shooting through me, lightening white, flaming red. I’m being stabbed. Again and again, the stabbing won’t stop.
I think of my mother. I think of her eyes, of her skin, of her hair. I think of her hair lying in a shoebox in my closet back home. I think of all those strands lying in their shoebox coffin, still gleaming blond, still smelling of her. I think of her hands, her nails, her lashes. I think of her eyes without lashes. I think of her lips. Cupid’s bow. I think of her lips, all cracked and dry. Dark pain. Looming, dark pain. I want the red and white pain to wipe out this dark pain. But, it won’t. The dark pain is all encompassing. The dark pain is huge. I think of my mother, her hair, her lips, her skin, her hands. Her voice.
I am hugging the floor. I never want to let go. The floor is solid. I am not. The insects scuttle around me. I shiver. The door opens. They are standing above me. She is crying. He is holding her. I am hugging the floor.
I am humming. With each stab I am humming. Stab, hum. Stab, hum. I could be groaning. But it sounds like humming.
It’s dark. Very dark. I can hear them breathing. I can hear my sweating. I can hear the molecules in the air drifting by. I can hear every xxxxing little thing. The ticking, it’s slower. It’s malfunctioning. I can hear the building standing still. I can hear it straining against itself. I wait for it to come crashing down. Please let it crash down. I try to hear the building blocks moving. I think they’re moving. I wait for them to shift. I wait. I’m still waiting. It’s eternal, the ticking, the waiting, the sweating, the breathing, the straining, the groaning, I’m moaning, I’m humming. Stab, hum. Stab, hum.
It’s sliding down my face. It hangs on my chin. It drops on my chest. Another one. And another. I could be sweating. But, I'm not. I'm not.
KICKING - Part II
I stare at the statue. Nine years, and it’s still the same. It’s sunny, pleasant, spring. I don’t feel pleasant. I’m cold, I’m shivering. I want to walk away. I want to take a step, then two. I want to keep going until I can turn around and see the statue from far. I want to feel hope. The hope I felt as I walked here. All I feel now is hopelessness. She’s not here. I thought she would be. I thought I’d find her, and she’d hold me again. I want to grab any blonde woman that passes and I want to scream, scream, scream WHY AREN’T YOU HER WHY AREN’T YOU HERE WHY AREN’T YOU ALIVE.
They keep offering me cake.
Have some, go ahead, try it, it’s good, you need to eat, you need to try it, go on, have a bite.
I try some. I can’t swallow. When I swallow, I can’t keep it down. I’m retching, I’m retching, a part of me wants it out, a part of me wants it in.
I leave the toilet. They offer me more cake.
I’m playing. I hit the notes. I hit hard. I hit them over and over again. I’m banging the notes. I clench my hands and keep banging. My fists hurt. It’s nothing. There’s humming, there’s banging. I feel too much, I feel nothing.
I think I’m dreaming. I’m kicking the bed, the chair, the door, the door, the door. I’m punching the walls. I’m yanking the bedspread. I stamp on the heap, over and over again. I want to kick and stamp my way down, down, to the hell I’m already in. I’m spinning, I’m swirling sweat. I’m dripping and flinging. I’m flinching and wincing. I’m screaming, screaming, yelling. They’re in the room, they’re holding me down, I’m kicking, I’m punching, I’m yanking, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming. She’s whispering to me.
It’s ok. It’s ok. Shhh…shh…
He’s holding me down. I look up, he’s holding me still. I see his pupils. They dilate in fear. He says my name. He says my name. My name sounds foreign. That’s not my name. The ticking, it’s pounding. There’s humming, it’s louder. The scuttling, it’s closer. I’m snapping my head. Left, right, catch the buggers. They’re everywhere, they’re everything. They’re mewling, louder Louder LOUDER.
… Something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong. I look at the television. It’s casting shadows. I look at the walls. They are solid. Out on the balcony. The street is empty. There’s no one there, there’s nothing there. The street is empty. The street sounds empty. I go back inside. I look at the television. Pixels that speak, pixels that move. I see lips forming words. I hear nothing. I hear nothing. I go to the room. I watch the ticking. I see the ticking. I hear nothing. Nothing…
She’s here. I reach for her strands. I run my fingers through that golden shower of hair. So soft, so sweet, so shiny. I smooth her locks, I watch my hands. I look up. Her eyes, her eyes, they’re twinkling. She’s smiling, she’s happy, I can tell. Her fingers twirl my hair, pulling gently at the ends. I touch her hands, I tap her nails, strong springboards that extend from the fingers of an artist. She holds my face between those hands and pulls me to her lap. She pulls me to her lap, and I go willingly, I go as my whole body melts with relief. She’s here. She’s happy. She’s holding me. I found her. I was right. I close my eyes. And I wake up.
Besides me is a man who won’t shut up. He keeps talking. He keeps telling me about his ex. She’s beautiful, she’s sweet, she’s the devil’s spawn, she hurt him, he wants her back. He tells me this over and over. In many variations. I stopped listening an hour ago. I’m high, I’m on a plane, I’m going back home. My whole body is alive. My mind is aflame. I’m thinking, thinking, planning. I’m high. I’m euphoric.
A man approaches my neighbour. They are speaking in Armenian. They are speaking about me. I look up. New man is looking down at me. He speaks.
You’re Varso’s daughter.
He nods. He speaks again.
She died recently.
It’s not, it’s not. Go away, leave me alone. I’m high, I’m thinking. Go go go. I turn away. I turn within.
I open the box. They’re lying there, so soft, so shiny, so blonde. I take out a strand, I place it on her pillow. It looks new. I put the strand back in the box. I’m standing perfectly still. I’m standing still, I’m standing in her room, I’m holding the box. I don’t know for how long I stand. I’ll stand forever if I have to.
I’m still standing.
All I can say is.... Wow. I'm crying as I type this. This is so powerful and wrenching. Thank you for your willingness to share this -- I can't imagine anyone with an addiction who would not be able to relate. You have come so far, and yes, you're still standing! You are an amazing lady and I am blessed to be able to read your words. Such strength and determination! Your mother is so proud of you, sweetie, I just know it!
Lots of love,
Strength & courage is moving forward in spite of the fear
Oh My Dear Winged
I cried as I read this. I know exactly how you felt. The pain of it all. The mother you had and I had no more.
As you know my mom died last year. She was ill but not to where she was going to die. She had trouble with her muscle for a long time,.Hhard for her to walk but she got around and was there for us.She was such a strong woman never complained. Then a year before she died she had pneumonia and when they got her to the hospital the doctor did not give her oxygen in time. She came out of it with dementia. For one year she went downhill. Then a phone call from my father.Says she is in the hospital again. Once more pneumonia. She said to my father before leaving the house "I am not coming back". And she did not. We were all at the hospital holding her hand when we took her off the respirator.I LOVED HER SO MUCH. But I know she did not want to go on anymore with out her mind .IT WAS NOT MY MOTHER. That woman left us a year ago. This was another person. I miss her so much. She so wanted to be here for her first great grandchild.
So I feel your pain my lovely winged. I feel it so deep.Hard to lose a mother but especially at your age.Know she is looking after you as mine is me. I have a
You ARE your mother. Don't ever forget that. She lives on through you. Make her proud. That, I know you can do...
Karaboo and Cher....
(tears streaming down my face)
I'm sorry. I'm sorry you lost your mother, Cher.
I can't even say this without crying harder by the minute.
I hadn't read that piece in years. I couldn't. I still can't. Every time I try, the tears stop me.
I don't know what to say...
Thank you so much for taking the time to read. And comment. And relate. And be empathetic. And cry. And make me feel this good, even when I'm really feeling so bad right now.
My emotions are all over the place. It's the lower dosage. I know it is. I'll be fine soon.
Cher, what can I say? It hurts, hurts, hurts to lose a mother, at any age, it doesn't matter, we're always going to be their babies. I miss her so much.
Thank you. So much...
Cher ma cherie...
Originally Posted by cherdox57
I just wanted to share one thing about what you said above. My mother's cancer had reached her brain, and at the end she was in a wheelchair because the left side of her body was gone, and she was beginning (just beginning) to have trouble finding certain words, some of the time.
My biggest fear was that it would get to the point where she would look at me without recognizing who I am. I lay awake nights, paralyzed myself with that thought.
But she died before then. I can't imagine what it must have felt like for you. But it really scared me, and I wish I knew what to say to you to make it different.
Just wanted to say that I understood that line very, very well.
Cher, where are you?...
Went to your thread and I know you're not feeling well. Please answer soon...
Hi winged eagle,
Thanks for sharing this. It's really beautiful, and it made me cry.
My mom died a year ago this week, so it especially touched a nerve for me.
Hope you're doing well.
Thank you for sharing!! I also lost my mom, a little over 6 years ago now. She was 43 and died from kidney and liver failure from abusing opiates for years. It's so hard to deal with. It makes me so mad at myself that I am following in her footsteps. I'm so sorry about your mom
Originally Posted by MaisieC
Sorry Maisie. Losing a mother is harsh.
And I apologize for the delay in replying, been having some "trouble", but all good now.
Hugs to you, I'm sure you've made your mother proud. The mere fact that we struggle to be better people...
It doesn't say in the story above, but I saw my mother in a dream, a couple of weeks after her death, and she was so sick, bald and sad in that dream. This was when I was literally trying to die and join her. That dream was what pushed me to go to Yerevan and cold turkey. And that's when I saw her again, gorgeous, just as I always remembered her. I knew I had done the right thing.
Our mothers only want what's best for us. So when they're gone, that's the example we follow.
Indigo, my mom passed away in 2004 too. It never gets better, does it. The pain just takes a back seat somehow, and then, out of the blue, whacks you upside your head when you least expect it.
Originally Posted by indigo415
You are NOT following in your mom's footsteps. Why else would you be here?
She didn't die in vain, you will triumph and she's right there, always, next to you.
That's how it feels for me.
Moms never go, even when they're gone...
wow - I'm so sorry about your loss; thank you, however, for sharing. I lost my identical twin sister to a drunk driver at age 7. Loss is something you just get used too. Yes, it gets easier to cope. The void in my being for her has never refilled. God bless as you move forward one day at a time.
winged....... wow.... I am totally speechless... That just floored me totally and I don't even have words but had to post. I'm so glad JB brought this thread back up. I am so sorry for your loss. I FEEL your loss. You have put the whole experience into words so beautifully...You are a beautiful young lady, both on the outside and the inside.... I wish you hapiness and again, I'm sorry for your loss but thank you so much for that post. And as for time healing, my dad passed in 1988, my mom in 1997. I see them when I look up at the night sky. I still talk to them especially when I'm alone in my car at night... I just could never put it down on paper in the sad and beautiful way you did.
My Winged Angel,
You have touched so many on here in such a short time. What a gift you are! Just by sharing your own pain you have found a way to help others lessen their own. You amaze me, Angel, you truly do. I treasure your wisdom, comfort, and agonizingly beautiful honesty.I'm heading to bed now as it's nearly 3:30 am here but just wanted to say love you girl, and thank you for all you do here to help others heal.
Strength & courage is moving forward in spite of the fear
First, let me say welcome back to the 2 of you, kara anad winged... You were both sorely missed by so many on this forum and it's a pleasure to have you both back.
Winged, if you say that piece could have been improved and wasn't your best, I swear you should be famous for your writing. It was poetic and evoked so much emotion. It was really good and don't you dare blush or get embarrassed. I'm just telling the truth. I'm so glad I got to see it.
Hope both of you young ladies are doing great, even after your short "vacation" from the forum lol.... I just got on so have to read more on both your threads.... You are both great.
Very beautiful. I can relate, as well. As an addict, and someone who lost their mother. I am 20 years old, 21 at the end of October, and my mom died almost 4 years ago. I was only 16, but I don't think age matters. Losing your mother is rough. I honestly think it is the ONLY thing I have ever had to do that was harder than kicking opiates.
Metal, I'd been gone for a while but was still reading on your progress, though I noticed you didn't bother bumping up your thread
How's it going with you? Are you still cold turkeying or have you decided to go a separate route? Please let me know, I got worried for a while there when you stopped posting..
How are your great parents? (aunt and uncle)
I know how difficult it was to lose your mom... I remember your story well, Metal, and all I can say is you've already beaten the odds and turned out into a strong, good hearted young man, so I know you can beat THIS too.
Hang in there hun...
that was beautiful winged - thanks for sharing. if i recall you are a writer by profession? if not you should be!! you definitely have a way with words.
I agree with hope... I think I read you are a writer. Soooo fitting, that piece was so evocative, you could just feel the pain yourself. Sorry for a SECOND post on that poem/story, but it is still blowing my mind. Hope all is well with you winged and you too hope.... (and the rest of you ladies working hard including cher.)...
I am STUNNED.
I'm an avid reader, and that was the most provacative & MOVING passage I've ever read! You have been given an amazing gift, woman!!! Thank you for taking the time to share it with us.
My Mother died when I was three years old. I don't remember her. But every major event of my life (graduations, wedding, childbirth), I cry for her. Her death has been the major grief of my life. Yes, even while getting to 33 on the COWS I cried for her. I think that's why motherhood is so important to me - because I know that I now have the chance to be a sweet, loving, and strong Mother for my children.
You have touched my soul, thanks.
I am clean so far, winged eagle. I used a weird method, which worked for me. I was able to deal with EVERY withdrawal symptom but the lack of sleep, and the colt sweats and anxiety. Luckily, I've had insomnia my entire life, so I got my doctor to prescribe me Ristoril, a benzo mainly used to treat insomnia. Knocks you out. So, what I did was get 5 10mg percocet and 15 15mg benzo and I did 1 of the Ristoril about 2, when the sweats got really bad, then I would do a tiny bump of the percocet at night time, so I would sleep.
As of now, I only need the Ristoril to sleep, but only every other night. I haven't had any form of opiate in 7 days, and I actually feel pretty good. Depression is still rough, but I do what I can to get out. My uncle works on call as a nurse, so he is home during the day. We go to the pool/spa a few times a day, keep ourselves busy.
Thank you for the support and concern. It means a lot to me.
Kara, Bev, Jammy, Hope and Metal...
I'm the one who's speechless now.
Like, really. You now have a writer speechless. How's that for irony?
Ok, I'll take this one angel at a time:
Kara mia, you have no idea how much I felt affinity with you from the start. You glow, through your words, through your kindness, even in real life (blessed to have you as a friend). You are beautiful, in every sense of that word.
Bev, your opinion means a lot to me. So much of what you share strikes a chord, you know? It's almost like hearing myself say these things out loud. Sometimes I'm just struck by how uncanny it can get. You're a special lady.
Jammy, your thread is the most riveting one I've read. It's got it all: the angst, the triumphs, the challenges overcome, the drama, the happiness, even a 33 on COWS! What can I say except that you're an inspiration? Doing all this, with such grace, while tending to a family of ten just boggles the mind. I follow your thread with great interest, and you are a true winner.
Hope, thank you for taking the time to read this. It means a lot to me... There's something very endearing about you; maybe I'm vain and I see a bit of me in you, who knows But you're strong, and ethical, and a great support to others. In sum: a great gal.
Metal, I'm speechless when it comes to you because you totally surprised me. 7 days clean already?? That's freakin' awesome! Please just stay focused and it will get exponentially better each day. The spa is a brilliant idea and will really help flush out those toxins fast. Please let me know how you progress, don't just disappear
Ok, for "speechless" I think I did manage to ramble on, as per my usual posts, so I'll just leave it on this note:
Thanks again, winged eagle. You truly help me a lot. I appreciate all the kind words. If it wasn't for you, and this forum in general, I would still be sick and miserable.
It is me
I could not help myself
I avoided reading to much of anyones past
I feel everyones thread is so private sometimes It seems invading
But its there for us to share and share you do....
I try not to be drawn to one particular person place or thing and then ....
I stay up 3:58am and spy your
one two punch....KICK ASS
youve been a great friend
to respond to my problems and struggle through my missing commas runon sentances...and just bad grammer,punctuation and we know it goes on.....
Just wanted to say you
MBN.. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this.
It had disappeared into the next few pages, so I'm pleased you found it and that you liked it
I see you're still awake, though it's quite late there. Sleep will regulate soon enough, patience seems to be the key to all this... one day at a time...
I didn't struggle through your initial posts. Pain is a universal language, and we could tell you were in the midst of it. But the change in how you're expressing yourself feels good to me, because I can tell with each post that you're progressing in leaps and bounds.
Mothers are so special. You have two kids who rely on you, and you're doing the right thing by finally taking the bull by the horns and forcing reality to change course for you. I can only respect that.
When I first got here, before even becoming a member, I read, read, read, read, read..
It helps, so don't feel like you're invading anyone's privacy. This is public forum, and every nugget of shared experience you find can be of immense help.
I'm looking forward to your progress each day. I see how amazing it feels for you to finally awaken after all those years of numbness. And it will only get better.
Stick to the taper, stick by your convictions. We'll be sticking by you the whole way
Hugs to you new friend, I'm so glad you've decided to join our family..
Ive benn out of commission all day
let my son use computer this morn and sure as life always is my hardrive burnt out
ive almost felt physically sick over it .....no back up computer set up ....this community has been my 24hr lifesupport.Finally just now 626pm Wisconsin time it finally accepted startup
new harddrive later had to settle for less just to feel connected i guess
my poor son was so upset
Last thing a father wants
got to put computer together but wanted to say hello
When I was 2nd or 3rd grade I won this bird at school Holloween party
Just funny to me I guess you the winged Eagle
my bird was just named Birdie......i swear
Last edited by ddcmod; 09-25-2010 at 08:37 PM.
Haha.. Man, I remember the first week I got here, I started having router problems and I thought I'd lose my mind with the separation anxiety
I think it happens to most people here. Cher (Cherdox) also experienced the same problems the week I did, and I think it's a natural reaction. Actually, I'm happy you feel that way, it means you're really invested in your recovery!
Saw and posted on your NA meeting thread. Awesome move. You'll need the support out there and I hear it does a lot of good
Waiting for an update on your dose when you get back.
Still not sure what your stable dose is, so when you can, MBN, let us know.
Eagle/Lebanon....no NA etc....? ughh
Does Lebanon have a "4:20"..heehee...do they
Guess google would tell me more
Just wonder how life is 4 U there .
Obviously people seem to have the same problems throughout the world
936am Sun morn.....when u get this plz w/b.and tell me what day and time it is there
Feeling pretty stable of n on at 6mg mor 6mg 2ish afternoon. its been a little touch n go since sleep is coming back...as long as I behave and pretend that. "I do not not know anyone across the World sitting up on the computer possibly....is everything okay...?"
Anyways today should be good ....no spending 10 hrs fixin comp.
Remember your day and time , when you have some..let me know
I never ask but where are you when it comes to subs etc ?.finite?
Have good evening ...I think
Last edited by mstbenutsbutlookat..me; 09-26-2010 at 09:51 AM.