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finally quit subs after 2 years
finally quit subs after 2 years
This story, my story, is called Bayonet Charge Style. It is all true.
This is my first post. Quite a motivational thread topic eh?? It is the happy, true story of me kicking my long term opiate addiction, and it's very long winded. Run if you're afraid of text. If you want to skip the back story, and get straight to what my withdrawals were like, Suboxone Diaries style, skip down to the "******" But I'd highly recommend the back story, as it shines light on my feelings about Suboxone, opiate use and functioning addicts in general--and it might shine some light on you as well.
I guess I'll start from the beginning. I am currently 23, and did hardcore opiates for about 5 years. Started experimenting in high school with hydrocodone, loratab, oxycontin and the like. But definitely not an addict. I did a lot of different drugs, didn't particularly favor one. And usually just on the weekends.
My drug problem really kicked off when I got to college. I still vividly remember the day my best friend knocked on my door and said, "Want to try some cheese?"
So I started snorting heroin, loved the way it made me feel. I was in my 3rd year of college studying English, wanting to be a teacher, a writer. I knew a lot of great authors had been addicted to opiates, and I thought it fitting, could really sit for hours and grind out thousands of words spurred on by that euphoria, thoughts of Poe painting a smirk on my face. I always thought the best explanation of heroin use was "utter contentment with total boredom."
Then I started shooting up. And it all got so much worse. I was driving miles a day to support my habit, draining my and my generous parents bank accounts.
I had a great job as a photographer and made too much money while working too little. I was what you'd call a functioning addict. But eventually it caught up with me. I started missing too many classes, started doing poorly in the ones I did attend. And then the kicker. My girlfriend left me for my best friend. It was literally paralyzing. Losing the two most important people in my life, in one fail swoop. I was sure of only one thing: That, while I didn't want to die, doing so much heroin that I did seemed pretty fitting. Lets just say I listened to a lot of Elliott Smith. I spiraled, becoming a horrible junkie, and eventually confessed all to my parents.
I was sober for about 3 days before I started using again. First codone, then back to Oxycontin, and eventually back to heroin. Finally, after about 3 years of intravenous heroin use, I had a moment of clarity. I'm not your stereotypical drug user--not uneducated, not poor, not friendless, not untrustworthy. The only thing I really had in common with my junkie friends was the drug and the needle. The last time I shot up was nearly 2 years ago.
From that point on, I started buying Suboxone on the streets. Now let me tell you, Suboxone is literally a life changing drug for an intravenous heroin user on deaths door. It was like my life was given back to me, I was more alert, more social, could work a job. It was great. And the best part: No bruises! I was a T-Shirt man again!
Eventually I got tired of buying it on the street. So I went to a doctor. Now here's where the problem, in my opinion, begins with Suboxone. I am 5' 7'' and weigh about 140 pounds soaking wet. And this doctor prescribed me three 8mg pills a day.
The way I see it, there's 4 problems with the way doctors present Suboxone, and here's the first: They give you way to 'effing much! Or at least they did for me. I was taking about one pill a day on the street, but suddenly I was given 3 a day! Obviously, I was excited and complicit, but I'm the patient, he’s the doctor! Shouldn't he know someone of my weight wouldn't need so much? (Not to mention this made me go super broke, with my bad insurance)
Every time I picked up my medicine I thought, this is the best drug dealer I've ever had.
Secondly, a lot of these clinics will deceive you. The first doctor I went to told me my insurance would cover everything, that I only had a co-pay of 25 dollars. I went to five appointments with no problem, paying 25 dollars. At the sixth, a new receptionist goes, "So when were you planning on paying your balance?" I said, "Excuse me?" She goes, "You have a balance of 736 dollars, when were you planning to pay it?" I thought, well when you tell me about it, for starters.
I was flabbergasted, and offended. Here I had come to them with a problem and they had multiplied it, had taken advantage of me. How had I come in 5 times in a row, with a steadily growing balance nearing 1,000 dollars, and no one had thought to mention it to me? They literally didn't even send a freaking bill in the mail until MONTHS later once it hit the collection agency. I called them and said, "Hey, I'll pay you your money when I can, but how about this: Change your policy! If someone comes in that owes you nearly a thousand dollars, have the courtesy to let them now, say, maybe when it's closer to 300 dollars! I checked in four times and left with no problems!" I thought of going to the dentist five times in a row without paying, without him saying anything. It would never happen.
And thirdly, my biggest problem with the way Suboxone was presented: They treat it like your problem is solved! No doctor I ever saw even remotely suggested I get off of it, ever. In fact, they made a point to let me know if I ever tried to quit, I would fail. Suboxone does not fix the problem. You have to look at it like a stepping stone. If you can accept that Suboxone is a means to an end, and not an end unto itself, it can truly change your life.
Fourth and finally, my doctor looked my right in the eyes and told me two things: That I wouldn’t have withdrawals when quitting Suboxone, and that my body would never develop a tolerance to it. These are too of the most blatant lies I’ve ever been, told but we’ll get to that later.
Now, be that as it may, I think Suboxone is a miracle drug; it saved my life in the most literal way a medicine can, but it is totally misrepresented to the credulous addicts of the world. No one is looking out for them! Even worse, they're all claiming to be!
Now, on to my quitting! So after 3 years of heroin, 1 year of Suboxone from the street, off and on, doing oxycontin occasionally in between, and 1 year of doctor sponsored Suboxone, I found myself working a job I had maintained for the last 7 months. I was overcome with two feeling. 1) I can never self-sustain, get my own place and pay rent, (was living with parents post college) until I stop spending 500 of my 650 dollar, two week pay check on drugs, and 2) If I don't stop doing drugs right now, I literally never will. I saw a line in the sand. "In or out, forever," I thought. Usually I had thought, I can either quit doing drugs now or later, the thought of doing them forever hadn't ever really crossed my mind--and the thought scared me.
It was an overwhelming moment. Another moment of clarity, similarly to when I quit doing heroin. But the implications here were more daunting: To fix my problems, I would have to tear everything I worked so hard for down. And here I had the realization that all functioning addicts have, the ones that quit anyway: To fix this problem, I have to tear it all down. Every relationship I have is founded on a lie. I have to break them to rebuild them. I have to lose my job, I have to lose my parents trust, I have to lose my brothers trust, I have to withdraw from all my classes, I have to lose my girlfriends trust (had no gf at the time, and wasn't in school, but this is representative of all functioning addicts) So finally it all made sense. The reason all these addicts don't quit (apart from being addicted) is they don't want to tear it all down. It's too daunting. It means losing everything you've worked so hard your whole life for. In fact, I don't know a single human that's in a position to lose their job, schooling and spouses trust all at once, in that sense I’m a unique case with amazing parents. For most people would then lose their house or apartment of family. Basically, we are all trapped, and the more successful we become, the more responsibilities we gain, the more we stand to lose.
And now, to the sweetest victory of my life: I told my parents, I tore it all down; I quit my job, rather than lose it over a month absence. The plan was to wean. I was going to go down a quarter a week, starting at 3 pills a day. I was taking 24mg's of Suboxone a day, sometimes all at once.
And then my Dad said something to me, (we're just alike) he said, "You should probably just quit." Not in an authoritative way, not as a demand, simply as a suggestion, advice.
I called him an hour later and said, "I'm going for it, bayonet charge style."
Last edited by ddcmod; 05-24-2012 at 06:59 PM.
And so, that is how I resolved to go from 24 mg's a day to nothing. Cold turkey. No rehab. No doctors. Just me, my computer, and anywhere from 14 - 30 days of what I expected to be utter agony and total sleeplessness. I should also mention I had the luxury of zero responsibility. No work, no school, no girlfriend, no expectations of any kind, my singular goal was survival and victory, my parents and brother cheering me on. My family was my rehab, and support.
And it was hard. Maybe the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. The first five days weren't so bad at all. Just subtle symptoms that grew into nagging annoyance. This is the real deception with Suboxone withdrawals. They take so long to kick in. Suboxone has such a long half-life that, if you're taking anywhere close to the dose I was, it could take 5 to 7 days to even start getting severe. I like to make the analogy that oxycontin and heroin withdrawals are a sprint, while Suboxone withdrawals are a marathon. You can't go into a marathon expecting a sprint. It will break you that first week.
So I wasn't. I was expecting a long, bloody battle. I had read all there was to read on these forums, was terrified by it, as people taking one fourth my dose were saying how horrible quitting was, how bad they felt.
It started to get really bad on day 7. Intense leg pain, non-stop sneezing, a body temperature that literally refused to regulate (I found this symptom to be, not the worst, but the most persistent and un-fightable. I liken it to being "eternally cold" to my friends/family) back pain, joint pain, a total inability to get comfortable, a brain that can't shut off and the worse acid reflux, especially when laying down, I've ever had in my life.
But here’s the thing I feel isn’t very well expressed in most journals. While all these symptoms sound terrible, they are all very subtle. The pain is hard to place, the body temperature and sneezing are only annoying, the back pain is especially bothersome but still not debilitating. But it's nothing like the agony of heroin withdrawals. Nothing.
And here's the kicker. The subtlety of the symptoms, while being a relief at first, quickly becomes the main problem. I often found myself thinking, let this get really bad, so I can feel justified in feeling so annoyed by it. It's a lot more like Chinese water torture than being broken on the wheel or burned at the stake. It begins to play on your sanity. Of course you can go a week without sleep. But can you go two? Around day 10 I started to feel delirious and very angry. I thought, I can deal with these symptoms, but how long can I deal with them? That drip on your forehead isn't so bad at first, but after it keeps dripping and dripping and dripping even the slightest discomfort is enough to rattle you. The sleep deprivation of the first two weeks, and its accompanying stupification, were the worst symptom by far, in my opinion.
Which brings me to my next point: The battle against Suboxone is very psychological. Don't expect a physical fight, (though you will feel physically bad) expect a mental one. Not a mental fight about craving Suboxone (not for me, anyway, Suboxone's not the "high" my opiate self truly craves) but a mental marathon that can truly break you psychologically. By the end you'll be saying, “I give up, I give up!” Not because the pain is so bad, but because it's gone on so long.
But here's the secret!! Don't give up!! It all starts to get better around day 14; that was the magical day for me, and remember, I was probably taking way more than you, so you can probably expect some relief before this. On the 14th day I had horrible stomach cramps; (My own fault for eating lots of sweets the night before, watch your diet like a hawk!) my mom was so scared she took me to the emergency room. I told them I had jumped off of Suboxone at 24mg's, against my doctor’s recommendation. When asked why I said, "Because he's a shady drug dealer." She said, "Be that as it may, you're really not supposed to do that. It's almost impossible." I said, "Are they going to put me back on it and wean me off?" Her exact words were, "I've seen it go both ways." I thought of the past two weeks, of the agony I'd been through. We hadn't paid for a room, were just doing our pre-screening. I looked at my mom, shook my head, stood up, and said "We're leaving!"
And I felt so much better the next day. I was so angry at that nurse for not knowing anything about Suboxone. (Though she did openly admit she didn’t) How would a physician not know after 14 days how close I had to be to feeling at least a modicum better?
But yeah, after that, it was smooth sailing, in retrospect. I felt like I had faced my demon and spit in his face. And most of all my body was starting to feel better. No more aches, no more back pain, no more leg pain. (Accept at night)
So, today is day 25. I still don't feel normal, not by any stretch of the word. But that news shouldn't scare you, it should encourage you. Because you have to know your enemy, and the reality is, long term Suboxone use is not cured overnight. It's not a week long affair, no matter what a doctor would like you to believe. In my opinion, it's not even a month long affair. You won't feel bad after a month. I don't feel bad at all. But I don't feel normal. I don't have cravings, but I still have trouble getting comfortable. Occasionally my legs hurt, though now I take aspirin instead of hardcore opiates Sleep is hard to come by, but not like at the beginning. I fall asleep quickly, sleep through the night, but always awake at 8 a.m., even though I've blacked my windows. So if I stay up late, like 2 a.m., I'm still waking at 8 a.m. My energy level is still low, though I could work a job now. I think this will be the longest lasting symptom. The only symptoms I really still have are a low energy levels and my good ol' buddy eternal cold. (I’ve had a hoody on for literally 25 days, hood up)
But really, at this point, I'm just thankful to be alive, to be free. Another huge secret of sleeping is to take a bath literally right before you go to bed. I still have to do this, on day 25, and have tried not to a few nights, which have led to me rolling around for hours and finally giving in, bathing, then sleeping like a baby. Does wonders for restless legs.
I did opiates for 5 years, my longest break being 6 days. So, while the number 25 might not seem like enough to deem me cured (I don't pretend to be) it definitely is my proudest accomplishment of my life. And in that time, I’ve written 2 books and won about 20,000 dollars playing video games professionally. Not to mention had the most wonderful relationship with a girl I would have married, had it not been for my drug use. But that’s a story for another day.
The best part about quitting Suboxone has been my hobbies, and my emotions returning. Suddenly I feel like a normal human being, having to fill up my day with things I enjoy, rather than drugs I enjoy. My love of music instantly returned and I think this is the most unexplainable. How could Suboxone affect music? I have no idea, but it does. Suddenly I want to turn it up so loud it hurts my ears. Suddenly it's making me emotional again. Suddenly I’m seeking it out. I feel that sappy feeling bubble in my throat that I haven't felt in years when a particularly fitting note or stanza resonates. I've learned 3 songs on guitar in the last week. I've cried at 2 books (One being The Hunger Games, can't blame me there!) and 2 movies in the past 25 days. Guess how many in the previous 5 years? Zero. My voice cracks when I talk about things I'm passionate about, which I've suddenly discovered is a lot of things. I feel my eyes watering at the strangest, almost embarrassing times. You're human after all, I usually think, smirking. And most of all I’m thankful to be writing again. Remember that part where I said opiates helped me write? Well they did… at first. Drugs tend to make your embrace your hobbies at the beginning. The danger is, after a while, they replace them. The 5 chapters I’ve written since sobriety are so head-smashingly awesome I feel utterly guilty for letting my hobbies hibernate for so long.
So, welcome to my proudest moment. I hope it gives you the hope to realize yours!!
P.S. - I'm an atheist (please don't judge me for this, or think any less of my assertions) I only include it because I believe in no power higher than myself, and always hated this step in the program. Rather than making me feel hopeless, it's empowered me to know that I—and only I—are in control of my recovery! I love the idea of God, have Southern Baptist parents and a brother, and think the world of them. They are truly the smartest people I know.
Sorry, had to split it in two so it would all fit! Hope that's not against the rules!
Feel free to ask questions. I will be constantly updating with my progress, mainly to inspire people that feel trapped!
Wow, just....wow. Thank you so much for sharing your story. I wish there was more to read!
wow! Good for you! How inspiring and awesome you are!!! I needed to read your post! Ive been on subs for 6 days and and tapering myself down now. I have 4 tablets left and ordered detox vitamins! Were you surprised at how strong you are? I think you are very strong! keep going! I'll cheer you on!!!!!
I read it again for the second time. It put that sappy bubble thing in my throat you were talking about. hehe
Lol. Well thank you!! I've always loved writing, loved sharing stories that hopefully inspire people. I've been writing this post in my head over the past 25 days, over more cigarettes than I'd like to admit. I actually wrote a first draft of this, that is in a more "novel" style, where as this is more non-fiction style. It's a little more thoughtful and a little less factual. I can post it up, if you'd like to read more of my thoughts on addiction.
Originally Posted by Kristin13
But the truth is, you guys are inspiring me!! Not the other way around. The fact that my story can help others gives me so much motivation to keep going.
Another thing I think has been an unexpected symptom of sobriety has been my undying need to talk on the phone constantly. I feel so flooded with emotions and idea's and literally feel like I have an inadequate number of people to express them too.
I've lost a lot of friends over my addiction. But there's a few I won't cut loose, if only because I know they'd do the same for me. I've been around Suboxone, dare I say, a lot in the past few weeks. But it's never tempted me in the least, quite the contrary. It's motivated me to try and help all those trapped people out there, not run from them.
YES! Post it up on this board! I'd give you my email but there's no way to private message (at least not that I could find).
I actually was very surprised. I always knew I was a strong person, but I had tried to quit opiates/suboxone quite a few times with minimal success. Lasting anywhere from 3 - 6 days each time.
Originally Posted by silkie
It wasn't until my mindset truly changed, until I accepted that it would take a long time, that I couldn't expect it to be over in a week, or even a month. I feel like it changed for me once I understood what to expect going in.
That's what I hope to clear up for people, so they can be as brave as me!
Also, another thing that really helped me, though it might seem silly, was thinking about war stories. From prisoners of war, to war heroes, to simple acts of valor in combat. Withdrawals are very much like combat. Especially at night, you are so alone at night, and no one can help you. I can't tell you how many nights I spent curled up on my bathroom floor, shower running just for the steam, thinking, "You are in a foxhole right now. And you cannot surrender." I would think of some of my favorite war heroes, specifically Rick Rescorla, a Vietnam vet that moved from Britain to America so he could fight in Vietnam. He went on to become the head of Morgan-Dean Stanley-Witter security at the World Trade Center. Morgan-Dean had 2,7000 employees in the tower. Of that number, they lost 7, and pretty much exclusively because of this man, who went up and down 22 floors with a bullhorn ushering evacuation. In Vietnam, during the battle of Ia Drang, Rescorla's platoon of 200 men was set upon by 2,000 heavily trained NVA. I'll quote for you here: "My God, it was like Little Big Horn. We were all cowering in the bottom of our foxholes, expecting to get overrun. Rescorla gave us courage to face the coming dawn. He looked me in the eye and said, 'When the sun comes up, we're gonna kick some ass.'"
Like any true badass, Rescorla led a freaking bayonet charge the morning of the 4th day, driving the last of the enemy off. He was last seen on the 10th floor of the second tower, going up.
So, during those mad-midnight moments, cowering in my foxhole, I thought of Rick Rescorla, of his ridiculous bravery, of how many more perilous situations he was put in. Compared to him, I am a wuss of the highest order. Compared to a POW, my shower was a cushy resort. Compared to torture, I was experiencing slight discomfort.
But many nights, through the worst of it, I thought of Rick, smiled, if only for a second, and repeated the words in my head. "Bayonet charge!"
The way I explained it to my mother was, "You can't know about opiate withdrawals unless you've personally experienced them. It's just like fighting a dragon. You can assume you know what it's like, see pictures of it, hear stories about it. But until you've fought that dragon you don't really know how big and terrifying it truly is."
Last edited by ddcmod; 03-07-2012 at 05:09 PM.
Last edited by ddcmod; 03-07-2012 at 05:09 PM.
Heya well thanks. You are too! Thank you for the correspondence, if only to keep my new-found empty days full.
Originally Posted by Kristin13
Hmm, now that's kind of strange. They deleted my post because it had swearing. The only reason it had swearing, was because when I entered it, the letters of each bad word turned into question marks. So it didn't actually have swearing. Unless the filter missed some?
Originally Posted by kellennn
I assumed the mods would rather me post it with the question marks, as that's what the spell-check prompted. (I was originally going to change all the swearing, but the question marks gave me a false reassurance, lol. I thought, they're censoring this for me. My mistake.)
Well this is what I posted earlier that got deleted. It said it was for "swearing" so I replaced the curse words with more inviting ones. If it was actually deleted for "content," rather than "swearing," just go ahead and delete it again. I'm not trying to descent here.
Well this is what was requested, pretty much what my first post was originally going to be, before I trimmed the fat and stuck more to the now rather than the then. Think of it like the first part of the story, the opening post being the second. Like I said it's in more of a memoir style, rather than non-fiction, factual style. So I take some artistic liberties with descriptions. (But not facts) Also, the words in italics are not mine, but the great Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes.
I suppose we need a little back story first. I started doing drugs when I was pretty young, 14 maybe. I had an older brother, more like a best friend really, that would take me everywhere. And as such, when he started drinking in high school, I was only in junior high. But it’s always fun to get your friends little brother drunk, so I was that little brother. But that's just how it started.
There’s a virgin in my bed, and she's takin' off her dress, and I am not sure what I am gonna do.
Slowly, so slowly you couldn't even really make it out, it began to spiral. The drugs became harder, more frequent—the come downs became harder, more frequent. It was alcohol one day, pot the next. The first hard drug I ever did was cocaine. I remember it vividly. I was dating this beautiful girl, a girl I thought the world of, had known forever and loved forever. And she was being really ????ty to me, ignoring me. And I was feeling spiteful. I wanted to hurt myself, preferably in front of her, for optimal effect. So I asked my brothers friend (dealer) to break me off a few lines. I snorted them, wincing, but ultimately enjoyed it. And by the look on her face, mission accomplished.
You said they laid out lots of coke, but you don’t know how much you did. Now you don’t want me to go home, 'cause you're afraid you might get sick.
This story servers to introduce another point. That is, that for me, it was always drugs and girls. They went hand in hand, like some deadly two headed hydra, some cyclical super addiction. Said girls hated that I did drugs, so I would do less drugs, and spend more time with said girls. But it was always the same. Problems would appear. Cracks would form. Girl wouldn't answer, and oh, I knew just what to do. More drugs. "This is what girl gets," I would think, sometimes even say aloud, driving in my car, listening to music too loud, crying, gritting my teeth, clinching the steering wheel, heading to my dealer. "This is what she gets, I’ll show her."
those pills make me dizzy, forgetting my body, I watch as it walks away. and I just keep drinking the poison, and smoking the cartons, a pack and a half a day.
And then the girl would leave. And then it would all get so much worse. The flame out on engine one would become a full on tailspin. The ground would come rushing. And the drugs would come flowing. And I would use them to mimic a natural circadian rhythm. Waking up with speed, zipping through the day, augmenting that with cocaine, going to school high on ecstasy, just to keep it going, then maybe have a few beers, start to crash, smoke a bowl, pop a xanex. Then the opiates, for sleep. The oxycontin, codone, percocet, loratab. And every now and then, the crazy stuff. The LSD, payote, mushrooms. Ketamine... Freaking Ketamine.
And so, for years, my high school years, I experimented. I didn't do one drug, I did them all. I studied them like they were a test: This one’s nice, this one’s dark, this one’s hard, this one’s soft, this one’s funny, this one's fuzzy, this one takes the cake. But at this point, it wasn't really an addiction, not an addiction to any one, particular sub-group.
Now for the shocking part. I was an excellent student. I was an excellent son. I was an excellent worker. Teachers loved me. I had never been to the principal. I always did my homework. I studied hard for tests. I was in all AP classes, and I did well in them. I loved to write and I loved to read. I finished writing my first book when I was 16 years old—I printed 15 copies and handed them out to all my best friends, and everyone loved them. On the outside, I was perfect. I would meet friends parents, and by the end of the night, it was always the same, "why can't you guys be more like Kellen?!" I would meet my girlfriend’s parents, and they would be hypnotized. This was always my strongest trait: Fooling parents. I developed it into a distinct art form. I did all my dirty work in the bathrooms. I kept a bottle of vodka in a Gatorade bottle under my sink. I would sip on it every time I took a shower, before I went out. I'd often crush pills and snort them in my bathroom. Or in other peoples bathrooms. Most of my friends just drank, or maybe smoked weed, so I was always the "daring" one. And I prided myself on it, I was Kellen, a young Hunter S. Thompson, drinking and smoking and snorting my way through any drug in my way. People often thought I might die in their bathrooms. They would beg me to stop. I would snicker and continue on my way.
But one day, everything changed. It was about half way through my senior year. I realized, I needed to get my life together. I wanted to go to college, had parent’s affluent enough to send me there. I began to study very hard for my SAT's. I did very well on them, and was accepted to the University of North Texas on my SAT scores alone, they sent me an acceptance letter before I mailed my transcript. I was so excited. And finally, for the first time in my life, I had a reason to get clean. I had always told myself I would put away childish things when the time came, that I was strong enough to. And so I did.
I left for college, and I got sober (off hard drugs) I even stopped drinking. UNT is a highly liberal arts school, so of course, I indulged in marijuana, but for me, limiting it to just that was a big accomplishment. I was suddenly a normal college kid, and I loved it. I looked at what I did as a learning experience. No more speed, no more opiates, no more anti-depressants, no more psychedelics.
And it went like that, for the first two years. I was doing well in class, meeting new people. I even had another beautiful girlfriend, and man, she thought the world of me, the world. She went to my high school, and had always had a crush on me. She was a grade younger, and I literally just didn't even know who she was. But boy, she knew me. She knew I had written a book, loved to read. She occasionally rode the same bus as me. Apparently (I learned later) she would sit one row behind me, and stalk me. (I always had my nose in a book so I didn't even notice)
So one day, I’m at this concert (Bright Eyes, my favorite band, her favorite band) I turn to my right, and there she is. Standing right next to me. And she looked... older. More beautiful than when I had seen her in passing during high school.
we used to roll the windows down and play the music loud, smoking out in her car, lost in west Omaha, we’d get drunk and kiss our bodies twist like shoe laces.
And so, just like that, I had a girlfriend. And not just any girlfriend, the one I had always wanted. She had a full academic scholarship to St. Edwards in Austin—she had been accepted to the cheer leading squad as well. And more than anything, she loved me. She thought I was great, was exactly what she had been looking for. And I felt the same way. Most of all, I loved how smart she was. She wasn't an airhead, like most the pretty girls I had dated. She was cultured, well read, wanted to travel, loved the same movies I loved, the same books I loved, the same music I loved.
So here I stand expressionless, but my memories intact. I guess the past is good for a laugh, a comedy so dry and black it makes my stomach hurt so bad... and I cry.
I am not a bad person. This is probably what I find myself thinking most, that I am not a bad person. I am not evil, something to be feared, to be jailed.
But most of all, now, I’m different inside. I'm proud. Proud of myself, of whom I am and what I’ve done and what I’m going to do. I was at one time, so debilitating depressed. But it has passed. This too shall pass?
Last edited by kellennn; 03-07-2012 at 07:35 PM.
Again, love your story. You say you're only 23??
kellennn ...... What are you doing in the way of supplements, vitamins, protein shakes, etc that could make this easier on you?
I am not a dr. My statements are based on years of experience and related education. Consult with the professional of your choice regarding matters of concern.
It sounds weird saying "love your story".....I actually don't love your story. It sucks. Big time....let me say......I love the way you tell your story....there. That sounds better.
I eat very healthy in general, so I think that helps. I eat a lot of salmon, tuna, avacadoes, apples, strawberries, blackberries. I love fruit, so my mom buys a lot of it. I also eat a lot of pasta, don't even know if that's good, but it goes down easy. Lots of soup, usually Tomato, and lotssss of Bananas.
Originally Posted by Robert_325
As far as actual supplements go, on a daily bases I'm taking AdraCore for your adrenal glands, B-12, some random supplement for cartilage growth, same for bone growth, and then melatonin and triptofan at night.
Maybe as many suggestions as possible on what I should take, my Mom's a supplement junkie so I've got like an infinite supply.
Originally Posted by kellennn
That all sounds pretty good! The berries and fish products are great! I would suggest adding about 1000mg per day of L-Tyrosine w/vitamin B6 which helps with absorption. It will help with your energy level. Also really good protein shakes are good at this time. Gava is good if you are dealing with a lot of anxiety. Will let you know if I can think of something else. Hang in there dude, you still have a good few weeks of this left to deal with most likely. God bless..
I am not a dr. My statements are based on years of experience and related education. Consult with the professional of your choice regarding matters of concern.
Yeah, I'm not expecting it to abait any time soon. But I do want to iterate to people that, while I don't feel normal, I don't feel bad either. I could honestly take feeling like this for about 2 more months before it would make me go absolutely insane, specifically the cold/chills, sweating and bad sleep. But I'm in it for the long haul, you'll see, I'll keep you all updated!
Originally Posted by Robert_325
Today was day 26 and it was literally just like the last 7ish days, maybe a slight bit better. Went to sleep at about 3 a.m. (was at a friends really late) but still woke up at my standard 8 a.m. so I feel pretty freaking tired. But it's okay, every morning I make a cup of coffee, and spend most of the day writing, playing guitar, listening to music and playing video games on my computer. Basically I've been on a 26 day hobby-fest and while I've physically felt bad, it's definitely the least responsibility / most free time I've had in years, so I don't take it for granted. I've been able to crank out about 8,000 words of my next novel, and I haven't worked on one of those in literally years, so, while I feel kind of bad physically, I actually feel better (psychologically) than I've felt in years.
Plus I actually have self-esteem again. That's a nice little perk as well, as opposed to that constant and gnawing feeling of being a failure.
Yes, yes I am only 23. But take my word for it, I've done enough drugs / made enough bad decisions for both of our lifetimes.
Originally Posted by Kristin13
Hey it's nothing to be ashamed of, it's not a happy story but it's surely a helpful one. I've read so many drug memoir's that really resonated with me (not memoirs, but novels in the style, like The Perks of Being a Wallflower and The African Safari Papers) Just because a story is sad does not me you can't like it. I'm happy to be the anti-hero, a truly flawed individual, only insofar as it helps others.
Originally Posted by Kristin13
How are you feeling today Kellen??
Wow. It is so funny you ask. I just had literally the most surreal, emotional, overwhelming and entirely unexpected experience of the last 27 days.
Firstly, I'll let you know how I was feeling this morning. Last night I drove from my home town out to where I used to go to college, to see all my great college buddies (that don't do hard drugs) that I had been totally neglecting the past 2 years. I was instantly surprised by how bad my legs started to hurt while driving, it's about an hour there, so 2 round trip, and when I finally got back to my house, my legs were really bothering me. Not in that they hurt bad, but rather because they had been slightly aching for so long. I stayed out a little too late, didn't take a bath until 3 a.m. and finally fell asleep with ease. But again, the most persistent symptom: I cannot sleep past 8 a.m. It literally kind of makes me laugh at this point, because I know exactly what time it is every morning when my eyes open. So 5 hours of sleep, slightly less than the 6 I usually get. (Again, this is kind of my fault for staying up late, but I can't fall asleep until I'm really tired)
But what I've really been overcome with as of the late, the last 5 days, is the sleeplessness. It's really starting to get to me, Chinese water torture style. In fact from day 25 - 27 I've gotten progressively worse. But it's not from physical pain, not the kind I usually associated with opiate withdrawals. It's from a prolonged inability to rest. I'm literally always tired, but can't nap. And it's starting to make me feel crazy, literally. I can really feel it catching up with my body, especially as of the late. I also notice I'm starting to get a little angry again, like it was on day 10, where I'm thinking, I'm strong enough to feel bad, but for how long?
But here's the thing. My answer to the above question is and will always be: As long as it takes. As long as I've gone, I feel like nothing can mentally break me at this point, or that I'm broken, but okay with it, accepting of it. If I had to feel like this the rest of my life, just to be clean, I'd be okay with that. I feel like I'm gaining that much through sobriety, and I've already postulated what I've been losing, over the past 27 days, because of it. But if it takes two months, bring it. If it takes three, I'll wait. A year? Okay. Damn, but okay. I'll be pissed, angry, mostly just at myself, but sometimes at the world, and sometimes at the God I don't believe in, whom even if he did exist, would have created what is, in my opinion, one of the most laughably horrible, genocide-filled, disease-ridden, malice-centric and ego-maniacal worlds ever conceived. And even more pointedly, the lackluster primates he supposedly gifted it to. But what I won't be is broken by it, I will rather accepted it, just like a POW must, not because it is right or wrong, but because I have made up my mind on the matter. So I will wait forever, but only if I must.
But here's the thing!! I won't have to. This fever, like any, will break, on a long enough time line. I always loved Chuck Palahniuk's quote (even though I think he's kind of a one-note author) "On a long enough time line, everyone's survival rate drops to zero." Well on a long enough time line, I will feel better, normal, no matter what, as long as that time line is long enough. Be it a week or a month or a year. Whatever it takes, the reward is sweet and real, the most sweet and real and genuine one you can get, like any truly great relationship.
But lastly, the surreal story: So I'm driving in my car to get cigarettes, literally right before I sad down to type this, and I have this sneaky little compartment in my car, and the night before had put a single cigarette in there a friend had given me. So I popped that open, grabbed the cigarette, and noticed a... Suboxone! My brain literally misfired at the sight of this little octagonal, orange pill, most notably and comically because there were days I was out of Suboxone, feeling really bad, and all along, this one had been literally right under my nose, in my most common hiding spot I constantly used. How had I never seen it? How had I not accounted for its going missing? How had I not thought it in there, or even looked, when I was running low?
After I get over that thought, my mind jumps instantly to what every addicts minds jumps to when they see their drug of choice. I could shave off the tiniest corner of that and get literally the best night sleep ever. I could go right back to not taking it, and I bet it wouldn't even set me back much. And this is the part I think is really interesting: That that's not what I wanted to think, not what I knew to be true! It is simply what my brain forced me to think, as I am just as equally susceptible to logic and dialectic reasoning as the next primate. When my brain sees something, something that I love, something that could fix me right up right quick, it thinks: Take it! Please! We need sleep! You need a break! And I feel this is where the rationale behind calling an addiction a "disease" stems from. It seems almost like we addicts have no choice in the matter. But whats the key modifier in that last sentence? It only seems that way. It only seems like you have no choice. You're brain might make a determination very quickly, weigh the pros and cons, but it is up to you and only you, up to the beauty of your freewill alone, to decide what course of action you will take.
Think of it like seeing that one girl you really love. You feel like you can't help it, and it's very much true. You can't not pine after her. But you still have a choice in the matter. You can choose to pursue, or to not pursue, her relentlessly.
Or how about when your girlfriend cheats on you? Who hasn't gone back to a girlfriend that didn't deserve it? It is in no way different than an addiction. You know you shouldn't do it, know it's not in your best interest, but you choose to do it anyway, for short term benefit rather than long term sanity. Could you not, in the very same way, make love out to be a disease? (maybe that's a bad analogy, because love, the kind I experienced anyway, is like a disease, and you do feel helpless and choice-less in the matter. but that only serves to further illustrate my point, that while it's hard to make the right choice, or to not choose the first conclusion your brain postulates, it's not impossible.)
So yeah, needless to say, I flushed that Suboxone right down the toilet, made up my mind literally right at the conclusion of my brains ill-advised thought, You can just do a little this once.
The thing I was most struck by was: I didn't have to pay for it, didn't have to search for it, had lost all my connections, have no money, have been feeling so rotten for so long. Really, this was practically the only conceivable way I could ever hope to get Suboxone. By accident.
But still I refuse. In face, I thought, not a chance. It is a choice. It is just a really, really, really, really hard one. The hardest you've ever made in your whole life. Choices like this don't come along often, ones where it's so very, very hard to pick the right direction. "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."
I guess all I'm trying to say is, I feel fortunate to have a "disease" I can cure without any doctor or medicine or medical knowledge of any kind.
Day 31! Feeling sooo good. Going to start working out today!! Finally sleeping better!
Hope it gives you hope!
I have kept most of the Suboxone wrappers I've ever used in the past 2 years. There's literally like 500 of them in this trash bag sitting right behind me. I'm about to take it to a friends house and dump it out in the living room, and blow some freaking minds. Then I'm going to add it all up. I want my friends to physically see what drugs have stolen from me, monetarily and otherwise. I also want them to know how it's possible to let your life slip away from you. It's so many wrappers... It would scare even the most hardened drug user, I promise you.
Look, see? I'll say. Never abuse your body in the manner that I have.
Just got done working out. Feel awesome. Slept from 1 a.m. to 11 a.m. with no pre-night bath, on my friends couch!!!!!! You have no idea how stoked this makes me.
So happy to hear how good you're feeling Kellen!!! That's soooo awesome! So....about sending your books to us....how do we make that happen????
Originally Posted by Kristin13
I realize posting it on a public forum is probably not the best idea, but seeing as how my inbox has about 1,000 messages in it, I don't think it really matters, not at this point. Any of you strange internet lurkers out there feel free to join the literally 300 bots that constantly assault me with spam on a daily basis. I'm gonna make a g-mail account soon and ditch this one for good.
But yeah just shoot me an email, and I'll send 'em to you. Put Kristen in the title so I can actually find the thing. And maybe post something on here so I know when to check it. I've got such a backlog of spam I can barely find anything in there.
They're not for sale anywhere, it doesn't work that way in my head. The more people I can get them to for free, the better.
Last edited by ddcmod; 03-14-2012 at 03:52 PM.