%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters. |
| ........ |
| There are positives and negatives to any choices that we make. When I am using meth, contrary to popular belief, I am not as likely to be involved in a confrontation. The reasons are...I couldn't be bothered...I lack the confidence to be assertive, and the time spent arguing could be better spent using more meth. In many ways, I am easier for others to get along with whilst I am using. There was an advertising campaign here in Australia that portrayed the average meth user as a violent and crazy person who must not be trusted and is likely to lash out in a rage...and the simple truth is that we are not all like this. One night a few years ago, I developed an infection at an injection site...Cellulitis. I knew by the heat and the red and swollen skin on my arm that I had to get myself to the hospital as soon as possible because this condition can quickly turn from an infection into something much worse...septicemia. When I arrived at the hospital reception desk, I described the problem and was honest about my drug use. I saw an immediate change in the nurse's demeanour, and so, I tried to convey that I was no threat to any staff...that in fact, I had the utmost respect for the job they do. Unfortunately, this did nothing to reassure them and I was told to go await my name to be called. I admit that I had not slept in a few days and was extremely tired. I saw a gurney over to one side of the waiting area that looked like a good place for me to lay down and close my eyes until I was called. Soon after this, a security guard approached me and told me I couldn't lay down there, and I had to return to the seating area, which was by this time crowded, and there were no longer any seats available. When I pointed this out, the guy shrugged his shoulders and left. I then laid back down and closed my eyes. Not long after this, I was approached by a nurse who asked me why I was on the gurney. I explained that I wasn't feeling well (which was true) and I felt like I was being treated differently because I was a meth user. At that point, she left. I fully expected multiple security guards to come and sort out the druggo dickhead on the gurney issue, but to my surprise, I was taken straight into the treatment area and left in a curtained cubicle...much to my relief. As I again closed my eyes, hoping I wouldn't lose my arm by way of amputation, I was attended by a nurse. I smiled and did what she asked and was on my best behaviour. I was calm, in the hope that I would relieve her nerves, but, the entire time she was silent. Not once did she smile or attempt conversation. I eventually had to help her find a usable vein because they were mostly collapsed and not easy to find. I spent two days on an IV drip as they pumped me full of antibiotics...not something I am proud of, but I said I would be honest on this blog, and this is the truth of what happened. Now that I have no meth in my system, I am becoming less fearful of confrontation, and there are those who must face this new fearless attitude. Many see confrontation as a bad thing, I am not one of those people. In fact, I see it as a good thing, but only if it is done assertively and not in a way that takes advantage with one person's strength and another's weakness or fear. Being passive will never bring a fair outcome, and the same can be said with being aggressive. And all too often, these two opposites collide in a display of anger/rage that no one should ever have to see or endure...passive/aggressive behaviour. If we could all learn the skills required, and the desire for compromise...gaining the confidence to ask for what we need, along with a willingness to find a solution that meets both parties' needs, wouldn't the world be a much better place to live? |
| Today was another day without drugs in my life...another day of serious exercise...another day happy and free from the urges and fears that my drug use commands. Another day that I wish could become my life. Today, I went to do the groceries and pick up some medications for my mom. Instead of hiding my eyes away from people because I didn't want them to see, I looked directly into their own. And even though I wore a mask to protect myself, and so, my mom, from Covid19. My eyes were smiling...and those who I came into contact with smiled back. That's a good feeling...no...that's a REALLY good feeling. I am normally a very confident person, outgoing...even cheeky, and, I care about people. Meth takes those attributes away. When I first tried speed all those years ago, it made me dance and laugh and socialise, but meth is not speed, and instead of bringing out the personality that lives inside the user, it isolates...it prevents us from sharing our love...and from feeling loved. Today was not just another day...it was a day I hope I will remember when the wolves come baying at my door. These next few months I hope will never end, and I can continue to be this happy and open...the person I know and love...when meth will deny me of all this...and of my very existence. |
| In the previous four months, I ingested a lot of meth, and during this time, I didn't write one creative word. In the past two weeks of not using meth, my word count is around three thousand...not including this blog, answering emails and replying to reviews. It was like this last time I stopped using (even more so)...there's a jam in the system (meth) which causes a backup, and soon after I discontinue using, creativity erupts like a volcano, spewing ideas like lava into my unprepared mind. I haven't a hope of capturing most of them to use in any future work. At best, I will retain a few, if I am quick enough to document them in my diary before the next idea floods my compromised mind. There were a few unfinished works that sat stagnant, coincidentally for four months, which are my first priority to finish, add the required amount of polish, check and recheck for grammar and flow and release upon the unsuspecting world (or the twenty or so people who might read them over the coming months). I don't write to be popular or in the hope of being discovered and getting a publishing deal...which it turns out, is lucky for me. I have by now learned that the only way to achieve those things (being discovered, the popularity along with the adulation and incredible book deals) is to either sell my soul to the devil, in which there will be consequences I will later regret. Or sell my soul to a publishing house, in which there will be consequences I will later regret. Or self publish, in the hope that I will, at the very least, get my money back...although the reality with this approach is there will (likely) be consequences I will later regret. Someone did once warn me that there is no money in creative art, but at that early stage, I didn't even realise that writing WAS art. Nowe dat I am moore edumacated in dis ting wee b callin wrightin, I undastand wat dey waz on abowt. I write because I love to write, and just because I have given up on the idea of being the next J.K or Clancy or whoever is trending at that time, doesn't mean I have less to say or don't want many people to read my words. Hell, I'd be happy to give away my time...to collaborate, to help a fellow writer pursue their own desires for that which I have forsaken (for a mention on the inside sleeve of their best seller, of course). I've spoken to one person (thanks Graywriter) who tried to prop up my failing ambitions of ever getting published, but even he only writes articles for magazines and the like (no disrespect intended, and to me, any writer who can make a few bucks from this art is doing better than the other 95% of us who never will). But, as far as writing and publishing a novel or other serious piece of work, it looks like self-publishing or selling that soul is the only way to go...no matter how good the work is. And, for the sake of being able to tell anyone who cares to listen (party conversation) that I am a published author, when in fact I paid for the privilege myself...thanks, but I'll pass. Perhaps I could just say (like the one that got away) that I NEARLY got published once. Is this just another sad story, only without the happy ending (which is not my style at all...the happy ending that is)? Or perhaps it's the story of a writer who gave up before he even tried...because someone once told him 'it was too hard'? Or maybe, it's the story of a man who simply loved to write, and didn't care much for fame or fortune, only that the words he wrote would be appreciated by those who cared to read them. |
| For those who remember my planned trip to Thailand...I was due to fly out of Brisbane at the end of January 2022. Around two weeks before, I received an email from my travel agent advising me that the airline (Singapore Airlines) had cancelled one (or more, they never would specify) of my flights. The situation with Covid 19 made this a fairly common event. The travel agent advised it would cost me $50 for them to apply to the airline for a refund. I wasn't happy about this (either the flight cancellation or the fee to recover my money, as it wasn't me who cancelled), but resigned myself to the facts as they were, and agreed to the demands. That was four months ago and I still haven't received my $2000 refund, and I believe that I never will. I'm a Google Local Guide (Level 6) and write reviews of local businesses, restaurants and services I encounter. I also review internet companies, all in order to help others make educated decisions based on others' previous experiences. Now, you would think that given this fact, I would use reviews to make my own decisions on what companies I use, but unfortunately in the case of the travel agent, I failed to do this, and now look at this failure as a very expensive lesson. The company is called Flight Network. So, if you are looking to travel and wish to use an agent, DO NOT use this company. They are based in Canada, but have subsidiaries in most developed countries. All the reviews I have read since are the same...one star because unfortunately, this is the lowest rating that can be given. They take the money and won't refund it when they cancel...which they do...a lot. It's a scam, and myself and many others are the victims. No amount of emails or phone calls will get our money back, and as hard as this is to swallow, it is what it is. These people operate with impunity. They know they can take people's money, steal it, never fulfil their promises and get away with it. Remember their name...Flight Network...a scam company. |
| It's been almost two weeks since I used meth, and I have to admit, I feel pretty awesome. Today, I did the double (a workout, followed by thirty minutes of cycling). The lactic acid that caused me a very sleepless night forty-eight hours after the first workout, has dissipated. My strength, although nowhere near the level it was before the last 'relapse' (I've decided that I don't like the word 'relapse' anymore, because it conjures an image of failure...and I didn't fail, I simply chose to use drugs again), is making a comeback. I don't think it will be long (injury free, that is) before I will be back to my old self (whoever that is, that is...lol). So, the question is...who am I? Am I a junkie who will always turn to drugs whenever things go wrong? Or whenever I just feel like getting high? When I get bored? Tempted? Lured back by friends or dealers? After a lifetime of using drugs, will I know who I am if/when I kick this habit for the long term? Will I even like myself... this person who no longer gets wasted? Who got wasted for whatever and any reason you can put forth. So many unknowns...and this might be a contributing factor towards why I have never had much success at stopping...fear of the unknown. At least when I am using, I know who I am. I may not always like the person who looks back at me with hollow eyes and a varying degree of despair, but I do understand the place and time and consequences HE must face. Me, without drugs in my life, will be a complete stranger...and I don't trust strangers...at least until they have had time to prove to me they are worthy. |
| For someone who is a drug addict, I sure as hell don't want to be medicated. At this point, if I was to take a drug test, I would be drug free...not a single compound, other than a tiny bit of caffeine, is in my system...and it's a good feeling. This might seem like a strange thing to say...I would never put nicotine or alcohol into my body, and even pharmaceutical drugs would only be used temporarily, as it was with the Valium, to avert anxiety attacks associated with withdrawal (which I stopped two nights ago). And unless I am diagnosed with a mental illness that requires that I take a prescribed medication, I wouldn't dream of taking those types of drugs recreationally. You would think after making a statement like that, I would never put such a toxic drug such as meth into my body...but, this is my reality. All I have to do is kick this one drug and I will be free of addiction...yeah right. The fact is, I will never be free of addiction. I will always be susceptible to the lure of meth...even now, just writing those words, brought on a familiar feeling...an adrenaline rush which always comes before I make the call. I can do three months of not using...easy. That's the plan and that is set in concrete. What isn't so sure is what I will do in three months. For anyone who thinks I am on the wrong path, that's your right to believe and who knows, you might just be right. But, if in three months I decide I like where I'm at, and I decide to commit to another three months, who knows where the path I have chosen might lead? It may be a case of a few years of not using meth, but never having to deal with the issues of denying myself of the choice to use, if that is what I want to do. This is the path I am on...and I am the only one who will benefit, or fail and face the consequences for that failure. |
| To quote Dr Smith, from 'Lost in Space' (for those old enough to remember)..."Oh, the pain...the pain of it all." Lactic acid also reminds me of John Cougar Mellencamp's song 'Hurt So Good' and is what I am feeling right now. Four months of not lifting or peddling and yesterday I thought I was Superman, today...not so much. But, I will continue, after all, it's the only way to get the cobwebs flushed out of my lean tissue and regain some of the strength I had before...well, before. I still got out on the bike today (sore ass from the seat and all) and I feel my fitness hasn't suffered too much from the inactivity. The worst affected area is not on the outside in my physicality, but on my psyche, where I still feel the pangs of guilt and shame. My Counsellor, Vicki, is not able to diagnose (at least, not legally) mental illness, but certainly recognises the traits. It will be interesting to see if I have PTSD, BPD, or some other mental illness associated with my addiction. God knows, there has been enough trauma in my life to trigger some form or another. I've never been medicated (other than to try to avert the heebiejeebies from withdrawal...and tonight, I'm not taking any more Valium to ascertain if I am clear of these frightening symptoms or not). I don't feel as if I do have a mental illness, but, who ever does? In any case, I feel good...the decision to go back to meth after three months is, at this stage, not something I am focusing on. Instead, I am taking one day at a time...and will make that choice in good time. Dinner tonight for mom and I is baked salmon with garlic and spices with potato gratin...bon appetit. |
| The thing that suffers the most when I am using drugs is my creativity. I haven't written a word in four long months...other than emails to friends complaining about this or that. To my poor friends who have suffered my negativity and single-minded monotones of self-pity, I apologise. But, the tide has turned (at least for now) and the creative bubble that has festered inside my mind fog, has, after just one week of not using meth, burst...and so, I will now leave you be, and write...ACTUALLY, WRITE. I love this feeling, and to be honest (which I always am)...and as difficult as this is for me to admit, this feeling beats the hell outta taking drugs, hands down. It's only a shame that it doesn't last, and in three months, I will be yearning for this drug, which robs me of so much. |
| When I am using meth, I don't train...I don't socialise...I don't care about much at all. This IS one of the disadvantages, but ironically, it is also one of the reasons I like taking meth. There, I said it...there are times when I enjoy taking drugs. Those who consider this is a bad way to think about my lifestyle choices can turn away or condemn me for it. It is the truth, and although you will find most of us who use drugs have a history of having been abused...abuse that has usually been perpetrated upon us from a young age, this is not the only reason we choose to use drugs. Those who choose an alternate lifestyle, also get pleasure from taking drugs. This is a very strong driving mechanism to continue to use. It is not all about escaping our past...dulling the negative feelings we have lived with almost our entire lives. I would NEVER recommend anyone to take drugs...for whatever reason...but, there are, and always will be, those who want to escape...who want to be taken out of the norm and find some form of pleasure...pleasure that not taking drugs can never come close to. Yes, this is a double-edged sword...where tolerance creates a cycle of requiring more and more of the drug to achieve the desired high, which inevitably causes the problems we see...the face of the drug taker...scabby faced, pale and pasty...stealing from their own mothers to get their next hit...this is the media produced stereotype we all know and hate. Yes, drugs can and do create problems for those who choose the lifestyle...but, the reality is that you could have a neighbour, a workmate or a family member who uses drugs on a regular basis, and you may have no clue that this is the case. I can tell you as a lifelong user of drugs that there are certain drugs that can and will cause a person to steal from anyone they can to satisfy or more precisely, avert withdrawal. Opioids are one such class of drug that will cause this kind of behaviour. However, most people who don't do opioids, who instead choose stimulants or cannabis, only steal if they were thieves in the first place. After a lifetime of drug-taking, I can categorically say that I have NEVER stolen to support my habit, and most of the people I have come across, who perhaps may be prone to taking advantage of situations, eg; leave your drugs on the table and turn your back and they might consider taking some without your knowledge, but, leave a wallet with cash on the table and most, if not all won't touch a cent (unless they are thieves in the first place and would steal regardless of the drugs). One of the first things I said when I began this blog was that I am not going to BS anyone...it will be honest, no matter who likes or dislikes what I have to say. This is who I am and this was my promise to you. It was once said to me, "Neil, you are an honest person, and at times, brutally so." Nothing has changed. Whether I am using or not, the truth is so very important to me, and I hope that you, as someone who might consider offering me your support, can, at the very least, appreciate this one small aspect of this blog. Yesterday I went for my first bike ride in four months...today, I did my first workout in the same time period. Today, I attended my first session with my Counsellor, who, surprisingly, had no problem with the idea of three months off using, and three months on. Her only comment was she only has a problem with drugs IF they cause problems in the user's life, to which I agree wholeheartedly. I don't know if this radical plan I have come up with is going to work, or if it will backfire right into my face. It might do either, but unless I try something different, isn't it one of the definitions of madness to continue to do something one way, yet expect a different result. I'm not looking for your approval or your condemnation...I am looking to find something that works FOR ME. It may not fit in with others' definition of the correct way, but, unless I try, I will never know. I have made a pact...a commitment to my Counsellor Vicky, to attend my appointments regardless of which cycle I am in, so we can monitor and log the changes and see if this tactic is, as I hope, a way to live without the guilt and shame I feel when I relapse, or a complete bust...in which case we can then look at more traditional methods of therapy. I want to thank all of you who have supported me in the past...to anyone who thinks I am not on the right path with this, and cannot offer me further support, I completely understand and have no issue with your decision to no longer follow my progress. To those who believe I am still in the fight, be it in a different way to what they might expect, and will continue to support me regardless, I promise you total honesty with how I am feeling and where I am headed. Thank you to everyone who has been here for me, even if you have never posted a comment and just read my blog, I can see the numbers and appreciate this small gift you give to me. |
| One week down and thank God, so far, no withdrawal symptoms. No doubt, the meds are working...I had a short bout with my legs getting twitchy last night, but I soon fell asleep, much to my relief. In some ways, avoiding the inevitable is not a good thing. If I can avoid the price that I have always paid, what is to stop me the next time I approach the three-month mark, where relapse is a certainty? Three months...this is the tipping point for me...in both directions. When I am using and I become bored. I see my bank account dwindling, and I long for change takes three months. On the other side of the coin, when I am in Straightsville for three months, I long for the high, and get bored with living my life without drugs. What is the answer to this conundrum? Accept that drugs can no longer be a part of my life? Or go the other way, and accept that I will never get away from the lure of the drug, and continue until the inevitable end? Or (please realise that I am thinking aloud here), cycle three months on, and three months off. Ludicrous? Idiotic? The dumbest thing you have ever heard? Hear me out here and maybe you might see where I am coming from. I have NEVER been able to shake my addiction...and almost like clockwork, three months is the time it takes to trigger my want for change. In the past, this cycle has been such a difficult thing for me to swallow. The guilt and shame that comes from relapse is almost unbearable. And who is to say that after any three month period, I don't choose to stay with it...either way? All I know is what I have been doing ISN'T WORKING. I am trying to think outside the box here. This idea is not set in concrete. I have my appointment on Tuesday and this idea is definitely one thing I will discuss with my Counsellor. I'm sure you might be thinking, as she likely will, and not be receptive to the idea. And maybe, like one friend was quick to point out to me, it's the meth talking. I don't know. But, one thing I do know is that nothing has worked so far, and I am just trying to think of another way. To be honest, the idea appeals to me...to have my cake and eat it might be one way of looking at it, or, it might be the solution I have been searching for, that was right under my nose the whole time. https://youtu.be/VjEq-r2agqc Peter Gabriel/Kate Bush...Don't Give Up...such a beautiful song, and apt for my situation. |
| Hi...the last four months of using meth have taken their toll, but, I'm ready to try again. To rid my life of this drug that takes so much from me. My health, which is showing the signs of age and the constant bombardment of this poison, is suffering immensely. The price I pay is too high...emotional, physical, mental and financial. So, here we go again. I haven't used in five days, and I'll be facing the horrors of withdrawal any day now. I will see it through, with the help of the medication I sought from my doctor. I'm booked in to talk with a Counsellor next Tuesday, which will be ongoing and one on one. I'm sorry to everyone who has offered their support. I feel like I let you all down, but worst of all, I have let myself down. That said, I can't afford to focus on this or allow the disappointment to hamper my efforts to find a new way to deal with the childhood trauma that still plagues my life. This will be the focus of the treatment I seek, and although I am not convinced I can do this, I am going to give it my all in trying to rid my life of meth. |
| It's been a month since I last made an entry, and a month is a long time in the life of an addict. I relapsed within days of my last entry, it seemed so inevitable now...and even then. I felt it coming, and like a train approaching the station, there was nothing I could do to stop it. And so, how will I stop it the next time? There has come a reaction to using meth which is getting worse every time I use...panic attacks that are the most frightening thing I have ever experienced. The problem is that within days, I dismiss the effect and have justified using again. I am lost at the moment. I know what I need to do, yet I am terrified of what I might do. I am truly sorry to all those who have supported me in the past...the guilt and shame I feel right now is almost too much to bear. Believe me when I say, I still want to be free from this drug, I just don't know how. |
| I have to admit, today I am struggling. In fact, not just today, but for the past week or so. Thoughts of using have come worse than at any time during the last five months. The disappointment and stress caused by the realisation that my trip to Thailand is kaput, not having a single day off being a caregiver for thirty-seven weeks, constant noise from neighbours, aircraft, traffic and barking dogs, is all getting on top of me. I am loath to complain...realising just how fortunate I am to be alive, to live in a country like Australia, where we are spoiled in so many ways. To have my health and financial security...things I do not take for granted. I suppose I should look at things with a better perspective...but in saying that, I should give myself some slack and allow myself to have a bad day. I am looking forward to getting back to my group meetings (they begin again next Tuesday), where I need to talk about this increased urge to use drugs. It is like a pattern...eight weeks is when my resolve to remain sober begins to wane, and my addiction, sensing this weak point, comes in to try to claim me back. I've been told everything about what will happen if I fall. I understand every aspect because I've been down that path more times than I care to remember, but it is of no solace when everything seems to be going wrong, and the only crutch I have ever known is no longer an option. Never mind...I will get through this. I don't want to lose all that I have gained over the past four months. So, I guess I will feel sorry for myself tonight, and in the morning, after a good night's sleep, hopefully, I will shake this feeling off, and get on with it...one day at a time. |
| Every up has a down...every in has an out. The airline, or the travel agent I booked through, emailed me today, and my flight to Thailand in three weeks has been cancelled. That's it...I have fought for this trip, and I have paid the price of wanting an overseas holiday, but now I can't fight anymore. So, after I picked my dummy up off the floor, I realised that it ain't the end of the world and that another closer option was available. The Great Barrier Reef is the only living thing that can be seen with the naked eye from space...but, seen from underneath the water, it is spectacular, and that's where I am now going. Cairns, Kuranda, Port Douglas, the Daintree River and, of course, the reef is a pretty special consolation prize. I don't care what it takes...I need and deserve this holiday. |
| Thirty-one days until I board my flight for Thailand, and then two weeks to enjoy all that beautiful country has to offer. It's been a struggle, and it has been costly, and there were moments where I didn't think it would happen. I now have my Thailand Pass (one of the last to be secured before the Thai government changed the entry rules). Everything else is in place. We have a lady moving in to look after my mom whilst I am gone. She comes highly recommended, but I have given mom a code word to mention to me on the phone if she feels it is necessary...but I think everything will be OK. Of course, Covid is a concern, but as per flight and entry regulations, I am double vaccinated, and next week, I will be getting a third booster shot. Then, other than being careful, the rest is out of my hands—no dishes, no cleaning, no cooking and no one to care about but me. I won't know what to do with myself for the first few days. Thoughts of using drugs persist, but they are becoming weaker by the day, and there hasn't been a moment where I have felt in danger in the past seven weeks. And not counting THAT little slip-up, it has been seventeen weeks since I decided to turn my life around, and turn my life around I have. I train every day without exception. I'm not entirely free yet, and who knows if I ever will be, but I am in a different place now. I have never been more confident of finally beating my addiction. Since being promoted to preferred author, I've been spending time cleaning up my port...pride has come to my life in ways I never imagined, and WDC has played a significant role in this new life. I owe a lot to so many people, and I know the best way to repay it is by remaining on track and seeing out this journey I undertook all those months ago. |
| Tough love? Is this the only kind of love an addict understands? Is addiction a disease? Or do we (addicts) CHOOSE drugs instead of, or over treatment? Is childhood trauma/abuse a good enough reason/excuse to continue to use drugs? And for how long? Is it Ok to lie, steal, abuse or abandon those who love us so that we can get high? Can we (as a society) be too hard on someone who suffers from addiction? And alternatively, can we be too soft? Or is there a balance between the two? Should we decriminalise all drugs of dependence? And will this reduce harm? And if we were to do this, would it change society's attitudes towards those who become addicted? Will this course of action solve any of the problems caused by addiction? Or will it create a whole new set of issues? Or both? Should drug use become a health issue instead of a law and order issue? Will there ever be a time where drug use will become a thing of the past? Not cool or hip, but what, in reality, it is...playing Russian roulette with our lives...mental, physical, financial and legal? Are there any easy answers when it comes to drug use in society? These are only some of the questions that will need to be answered before we can begin to heal from the epidemic of drug abuse that is gripping the world. |
| Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. I began this journey at the beginning of September, and as we approach the end of another year, I can say without hesitation that this has been one of the most monumental years of my life. I've never felt so sure of my direction as I do right now. I have a future now and this is very much a new way of thinking for me. To be completely honest, which was the promise I made when I began this blog, I was committing a slow version of suicide, but then, something turned me around. When faced with death, there comes a strong instinct to survive, and perhaps this kicked in and changed these dark thoughts I was having. I also became tired of the lifestyle. Taking drugs is said to be the easy road, and in the beginning, this is the illusion that it creates. But, after too many years of waiting for dealers, of getting ripped off, with little to no sleep for weeks on end. The shame and disappointment in the choices I was making. The lies, the self-loathing...and I guess, even for a seasoned trouper like myself, there had to come a time...to face an inevitable reality...stop now or die. Maybe not today, or even tomorrow, but there is no doubt that I had rolled the dice and been lucky, but my time of using drugs has well and truly come to an end. Also, I became bored with getting high...realising on the rare occasions when I wasn't wasted...when I could see more clearly, that I enjoyed those moments more than the short term high that meth gave me. Money was also a motivation to stop using. Every cent I would have spent on meth has been saved and put towards my future. My trip to Thailand...all paid for with money that would have ended up in the pocket of someone who preyed on my addiction. To say I am happy now is the understatement of the year. I'm welling up now with emotion. That last experience when I fell, will be the last time I do. Although I learned a valuable lesson from it, I still retain the fear, but also the pride...the first time in my life I have taken my drugs, which once upon a time meant more to me than anything, even my kids, was flushed down the toilet in an unceremonious fashion, and to this day, without regret. I rarely think about drugs now, but even when I do, it's with revulsion rather than desire, and this, to me, is a sign...I have begun my new life. I'll need to be on guard...not put myself in harm's way or get too cocksure of myself. It's a journey broken up into fractions...one day at a time, but with one eye on the prize...my future...a future I never thought I would have, until now. |
| It's been five weeks since I messed up and used meth, and although I would have loved to instead have fourteen weeks under my belt (of no use), these last five weeks have brought me to this place I find myself today...happy, content, confident and positive in my approach. The physical training, which I have gruelled out daily, is finally paying off, and like a snowball, which collects more snow the larger it becomes, each session now brings more gains than during those first couple of months. My mental health is above and beyond the person I was before...when using meth was causing me symptoms such as psychosis, paranoia, depression and the fatigue that accompanies desperation. I feel like a different person because I am different...my priorities have shifted, I think about others, and I'm more considerate. I'm no longer antisocial and find myself smiling more than I did when I was a slave to methamphetamines. Cravings for drugs have become rare, although I am acutely aware of the timeline for when I will become triggered (around eight weeks after I last used). I need to lean on my support networks if/when those moments come. I'm not perfect, and that showed five weeks ago. Still, I gained something from that experience, and hopefully, if/when that demon 'comes a-callin', I will have the intestinal fortitude to stand and fight rather than succumb to my addiction. At my last meeting, we were asked how much out of ten we want to live a drug-free life...and there was no hesitation in my voice when I said ten. I want this more than anything. I know it won't be easy and that there are going to be challenges, but I will never stop this fight to be free from my addiction. |
| I exercise every day. My goal is better health and fitness and is the cornerstone of my recovery. Cycling is the mainstay, along with weights to complement the cardio. I don't particularly enjoy those first few sets in my gym, but once I get through that, with some music playing, I knuckle down and push as hard as I can. On the bike, it's different...no music because I need to listen for the ever-present dangers that are all around me. I'm am the smallest kid on the playground, but far from the weakest. Many who share the road with me, don't seem to care, or simply don't pay enough attention when cyclists are about. Yesterday, as I approached an intersection, a car pulled out onto the road in front of me. I expect this to happen at every intersection, and so, I am half-prepared when it does. I screamed, more in fear than anger. The lady caught sight of me and hit the brakes...luckily for me before I became roadkill. I received the wave of acknowledgement...an unsaid sorry, before I continued down the road, shaking my head in amazement (that once again, I survived). It doesn't happen often, but often enough that I cannot daydream for one second whilst I'm out there on the bike. I have a flashing red tail light, a front strobe light...both are on, regardless if it is day or night, and a helmet that is the only thing between my head and the road. Today is Sunday, the roads are quiet, and it is usually a pleasant day for me to go out on my bike and have a relaxing ride...how wrong was I? I get into a groove and focus on my breathing when going uphill. I heard a car approaching from behind. That is one area I have little control over and in my mind, poses the least danger to me as a cyclist. As the car passed by, the passenger screamed out of his open window, and because I wasn't expecting that to happen, it scared the crap out of me. The car then continued on its merry way, disappeared over the hill, and to the person who thought it would be funny to scare the lone cyclist, I was forgotten. The person who did this was so dumb. I realised this as I rode past our local 7/11 and spotted the car that had, only a few minutes earlier, been so brave. I confronted the occupants, a young couple who should know better. The passenger was a guy around twenty, and I told them both my thoughts on the prank...pointing out that they have a young child in the back seat, and one day another idiot might do the same or worse to their child. At that point, I realised all my anger was not going bring about any change in curbing future actions by this bloke. So, I calmed myself, changed my aggressive demeanour to a less confrontational one and became assertive instead. I said, "Please, don't do that again." We shook hands, and I rode off, leaving him to contemplate his actions with his girlfriend. I am sure that if I had remained aggressive, it wouldn't have had the same impact, but in the end, all that counts is that I live to ride another day. |
| I'm scared...but then, who isn't? Fear is one of the main driving forces in a human. We fear losing our job and, so, our wealth. We fear those who are different. We fear war and famine. We fear losing ourselves in an increasingly demanding society. Living in fear is not bad if that fear is justified, and it doesn't control us to the extent that we no longer enjoy life. We put on a brave face every morning...sometimes even fooling ourselves that we have no fear. Some suffer anxiety so crippling that medication is essential to get through. And for some, alcohol and drugs are all that can dampen their fear...at least, that's how it was for me. I remember a time when I wasn't so scared, and then someone handed me a baby (or two), and for the first time in my life, I learned what real fear was—responsibility...to protect, nurture, feed and teach those who I brought into this world. Things change...and the things we fear change along with us. It wasn't that long ago, and whenever my bag of meth got low, fear would see me doing whatever I had to do to ensure I didn't run out. Then, as things became real (as they always do), my fear turning into a nightmare. If I am smart, I will never forget that lesson. I would be a fool not to hold onto the fear and pay it due respect because if I don't...well, that scares me more than anything right now. I've tried bravado...I've tried denial...I've tried just about every way to stop using drugs, but I have never feared relapse more than I do today. I hope this fear is something I can use to my advantage...fear God...fear failure...fear dying alone while in the depths of addiction...fear is what you want it to be...a positive or a negative...friend or foe. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
