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 |  This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters. |
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| Yesterday was my twin daughter's sixteenth birthday. Instead of being a time of celebration, for me, it has become a time of reflection, sadness and disappointment. I have a picture of their smiling faces on my wall. It was taken four years ago, and because I haven't seen either of them since around that time, in my mind, they are still only twelve. I do wonder if I were to see them today, would I recognise them? Over the years, it has become easier...to accept that they want little to do with me. One of my girls communicates with me on rare occasions, but I have learned not to push for contact. So, I feel I have no choice but to wait until they want me in their lives...if they ever do. Every birthday and Christmas, I put money into their bank accounts, and while I do get a thank you from one, I hear nothing from the other. This hurts me a lot because I think, what would it take to say, "Hi dad." Or just a simple thank you, would mean the world to me. Being sixteen is a difficult time for a girl, or so I have been told. But I cannot help but feel that I am teaching them how to treat me. I swing between anger, indignation and the hurt feelings this silence causes. I wonder why they don't care...why they couldn't be bothered to show much, if any, appreciation for the gifts. I don't believe bad manners should be rewarded, but if I stop trying...stop gifting this money, am I giving them an excuse to hate me? Will they hate me anyway? I attended my group meeting tonight, and it was a good one. We all chimed in offering honest opinions and support for one another. I feel strong and healthy, and other than a few cravings, which passed quickly, I am doing well. I will not allow sadness or disappointment to get in the way of my goal to find a better life...one way or another, I am as determined as ever to see this through and find the life I know I deserve. |
| Progress update is as follows...it has been four weeks since I fucked up. I took the next week off training, but since then, I haven't missed a day. To say that I am feeling good would be an understatement. My cravings have been manageable and I've had no contact with my friend/dealer/nemesis. I wouldn't be surprised if he is already back behind bars. It's where he wants to be, and after only two years inside, I think he has become institutionalised. The bottom line is, it makes no difference to me...we all make our own choices, and have our own lives to live. My body is changing due to high caloric output, resistance training and a modified diet. Swapping Poweraid for water and chocolate for fruit and vegetables have had a dramatic effect. Cycling forty-five minutes every day not only helps me cut body fat but clears my head and gives me a little timeout from being a caregiver. All in all...I have no complaints. |
| I have been putting a lot of effort into planning and executing my holiday to Thailand at the end of January. Travelling O/S has changed significantly because of the pandemic, but I was hoping the world was coming to grips with this, our new normal. I live in Queensland, Australia, and the government here has done a great job of keeping the virus infection numbers down to some of the lowest in the world. Unfortunately, the result of lower virus infection rates is complacency when it comes to people's attitudes towards getting vaccinated. We are at around 75% double dose, but in order for the government to open our borders, they want 90% fully vaccinated and we might not have the numbers by the time I return. If this is the case, I will have to cancel my holiday because I cannot afford an already expensive trip, then on return, be placed in hotel quarantine for ?? days, at my own expense. Add to this the new variant Omicron. There are now so many questions hanging over us all. Will the current vaccines be effective? How effective will vaccination be against being hospitalised? And given it's apparent infection rate, how long before the world shuts down again? I paid the extra fee so I can cancel and get most of my money refunded. I have lots of options here at home for a nice place to go for a break and for that, I am thankful. |
| Today, I did my intake interview for a program Vicki runs. It is expensive, but if my application is successful, I will be subsidised for the full amount, and so, my fingers are crossed that I might finally face my demons and find peace. There is, of course, a long waiting list, and if I am accepted, it will be months before I can expect to begin the work. All else is going fine. I'm training heaps and rolling with the punches of this roller coaster ride of methamphetamine withdrawal. There's been a few moments where I have had cravings, but with the memories of the last experience still fresh in my mind, nothing that I would call a code red. I want to offer a huge thanks to LeJenD and Hummingbird...both of these wonderful women have supported me throughout my journey, despite the health and time issues life has thrown at them. They have both been there for me, and without their continued support, I don't know where I would be. I'm not doing this for anyone but me, although, because I have received so much support and understanding since starting this blog, I want success not just for me but for all who have been kind enough to show me their support. To all of you...thank you. |
| We humans sure are strange critters...that's my conscious mind's assessment of 'us'. But, if we take a moment to step back from the person we 'think' we are, we may have a better idea of what it is that makes us tick...why we do the things we do. Our subconscious mind rules our lives...especially when it comes to emotional decision making. Habits are a classic example of this. What makes me want to do drugs? A large study found that around 90% of addicts have suffered childhood trauma. I will never use this as an excuse to get high...and the only reason I mention it, is I find it interesting in my own case (I love watching people do things, with no real idea why...and I include myself in this). We like to think we are civilised...above our primitive past, but, when it comes down to it, we are just another highly social species who live in a hierarchy and do things without much thought as to why...based mostly on our past experiences, both good and bad. Sometimes, it is too painful to relive bad experiences, and the subconscious mind tricks us into thinking that the best way to deal with this pain is to suppress it...push it down so far that we can live our lives and forget. I am a classic example of this type of behaviour. From a very young age, I was subjected to regular beatings from my older brother...who was himself subjected to abuse. While I recognise I was abused...even acknowledge that it is a probable cause of my addiction, I have not dealt with it in a professional setting, and is something I know I need to do in order to break this cycle of abstinence/relapse that has gone on far too long. Tomorrow night at my group meeting, I am going to ask Vicki if she can help me with this in a one on one setting...and if she can't, I will ask if she can recommend someone who can. I am aware of why I act the way I do, but being aware is not enough to change these subconscious choices I make. I am both victim and perpetrator alike...and I don't want to be either. I need to learn how to become a survivor. |
| Stress affects us all, and we must find a way to deflect as much of it as we can...or suffer the consequences. My body reacts to Cortisol by way of mild autoimmune disease. Both my shins become red and itchy. So much so, that at times, I find it hard to sleep. And, as soon as the sheets touch these areas, it can drive me insane. Lot's of factors come into play...sleep, diet, and lifestyle choices all contribute. There is no set rule, and I cannot predict when or how severe a flare-up will be, but one thing I know will bring about these symptoms, is when I feel a lot of stress. I wish I could better control how I react to these external pressures. I do however know that attaching a GAF (give a fuck) level to things that invariably come, can and does help. I have to ask myself...how much does whatever is frustrating me matter?... And...Is it worth getting these terrible rashes? Especially considering that in most cases, I have little control over the causes of these frustrations anyway? I can choose to let some things slide, in order that I don't have these free radicals circulating in my blood. Exercise definitely helps to bring a level of calm. Not doing meth also has many benefits...financial, emotional, mental and physical...and although it has only been a short period since I messed up, I can already feel myself levelling off from the after-effects...and thank God for that. Life gives and it takes away...in every facet...learning to roll with the punches and to recognise and appreciate when things are good (and at the moment, things are good). Knowing what we can and cannot control, and not expending energy on the latter, is the only way I can see to make this life more livable. |
| I have worked so hard over the last week...I'm physically drained tonight. Three workouts and a bike ride every day, and to top it off, today I push mowed my lawn. A day off sounds good, but that ain't happening...nine weeks to go before I fly out to Thailand, and I intend to be in the best shape (physically and mentally) I possibly can be. Everything else is on track. I still need to secure my mom a bed in aged care in the weeks before I leave, but I'm not panicking...it's just the way it has to be. I attended my meeting on Tuesday, and it was a mixture of emotions. I couldn't say that I was over the moon that I fucked up, but I am proud of myself for not allowing it to become an excuse to fail. Vicki was proud of me for taking the steps that I have...number one...flushing what I had leftover down the toilet...number two...making myself accountable and not hiding my shame...number three...taking what happened and learning from it...and number four...paying off the dealer, so he now owes me money. Money I know he will never repay, and worth every cent to keep him away from me. I'm not kidding myself. This has taken me back to square one. I have begun all over. But, I would rather be back at the start, than where I might have been...back doing drugs every day with no future to look forward to. |
| Recovery continues...today I did my first workout since the 'event', and I felt so good when I was done, I went for a bike ride. I'm just as strong as I was before...I was due for a break after three months of solid training, and so, no physical harm was done. I have another addiction...Powerade...or the sugar it contains. As a form of restitution, and because I want to stop drinking this poison, I stopped buying it and haven't had any Powerade for a week now. I must admit, I feel pretty good about this decision...another positive that has come from my mistake. I refuse to cry...at least, not because I took drugs when I know I shouldn't have. I learned more from this mistake than I would have from saying no...the cravings would have continued to niggle at me, but now, the fear of going through another episode, keeps me in check...at least, that's the plan. I believe everything is meant to be...it was a moment that had to happen in order for me to become more aware of myself and of these doubts that began to close in on my psyche. I made a mistake, but it was mine to make. I suffered the consequences, and it was all on me. Now, I will reap the benefits of that mistake...learn and grow and next time I am faced with cravings or temptation, I hope I can remember how it felt...such hopelessness and sorrow, where just the previous day, I had felt so much strength and confidence. I survived, and that's all that matters. I refuse to wallow in my failures...rather, I will channel them towards a greater future...my future. |
| It's been a while...I could feel myself slipping...nothing I grabbed onto would hold back these feelings...cravings to use. Eight weeks clean and I came to a point where I knew that I would relapse. I had no contacts...no one I could call, and so, I was safe. Then, in a moment I can only describe as fate, there was a knock on my door, and there before me, stood someone I hadn't seen or heard from in two years. He was my dealer, but later, we became friends (as good as friends can be when drugs are at the core). He had been sent to prison, and as soon as I saw him, I knew what I was going to do. I didn't use the tools I had been taught and nothing mattered to me at that moment, except getting and using meth. I do not blame my friend...it was me who pushed him to get the drugs for me and looking back now, it was all meant to be. I have never hit rock bottom...emotionally, mentally or physically, but I had no idea what was to come over the next few days. I now wonder, if I did know, as crazy as this sounds, would I still make the same choice. Not having any drugs in my system for so long, meant my tolerance, which was at an all-time high when I began weaning myself off meth eleven weeks before, was at an all-time low, and me, thinking this was an opportunity to get as high as I had ever been before, made up a dose which was far too much for my system to handle. I blacked out for the next ??? hours, and then, I dosed again...and again...until it got to a critical moment and I knew I was in serious trouble. I stopped at that point and tried to keep myself 'alive'...and eventually, my heart rate settled and I was through the worst...or so I thought. It didn't occur to me that within a day or two I would go into withdrawals. That had never happened to me before, but when I realised this was the case, it was far too late to go back. And so began the longest night of my life. I was so tired from not sleeping and what the super-strong meth had done to my body. I was completely dehydrated, had no gas left in my tank, and all I wanted to do was to rest, but as soon as I laid down, a demon, in the form of crippling anxiety, arrived to tell me it was having none of it. At one point, I called a 24-hour hotline, in utter desperation that they could help me overcome the irrational fear and hopelessness I was experiencing. I took a shower, which helped, but when I came back into my room to lay down, claustrophobia and another wave of anxiety overtook me...this went on most of the night, and eventually, I prayed for it to end. I have only ever prayed once before in my life, and that was a very long time ago. That was the last thing I remember before waking up four hours later. I thought I would die once I fell asleep from sleep apnea. But it still wasn't over and I spent the next few days dealing with the aftermath...the mental and physical scars...my face looks like I have gone a few rounds with a pro boxer, with two black eyes and bruises all over. This was a terrible thing, but something I believe had to happen. Rather than cry about it, I'm determined to use this to my advantage. I already have. I had some of the drugs left over, which went down the toilet (I have never flushed drugs before). I'm pretty sure this will never happen again. I couldn't even leave the house until yesterday...worried about what people might think about my face, with both my eyes swollen and blackened. Today I did go out by wearing a mask which helped hide my injuries. I feel ashamed of myself, but I will try to hold onto these memories the next time I feel myself slipping. |
| Focus on the moment...the now. Don't let things get too complicated by looking too far ahead, or by taking on too much. Plans are a guide, not a rule, and sometimes things that are out of my control will happen. Adapt and change in order to succeed. Be patient, and don't try to force things. Do good, and karma will bring me to my destiny. Accept that I am not always going to feel great, and things will not always be the way I want them to be. Realise what's important...be happy with life's small graces. Be honest, and do it without expectation. Appreciate where I am, and take pride in the good choices I am now making. Be the person I want to be...strong, caring and determined. Surround myself with people who lift me up, not those who will drag me down. Try to smile and love every minute I am alive. Understand just what it means to my next breath...because that is the most important thing anyone can do. |
| I wake up and serve breakfast. My mom likes her's warmed up and her tea hot. She then settles in front of the TV, even though I try to get her to do something, a few movements...anything but sit there waiting for me to bring lunch. "Lift your arms above your head ten times, mom." But exercise is too hard now. It's much easier to watch reruns she's seen a hundred times before, with the volume turned up to a point where it grates upon my soul. I've tried pushing her to do some movements, but then I become resentful. I've tried coaxing, but it goes in one ear and out the other. It's become easier for me to just let her sit there. If she doesn't care, why should I? I've cared for so long that I can't even remember what it is to care about me. I've given everything I have, and now, there's not much left. I want to run away, but I am committed. I want to have fun...like I used to do. I took drugs because it was the only joy I felt. So I could forget for a few brief moments where I was. So I would forget what life might be like if I didn't have to wait, hand and foot, on this person who has become so reliant upon me that she cannot do without me. With no support from family members and no help from the community. To take a week off is a nightmare. All the arrangements that must be put in place, forms and medications and timing booking a holiday in conjunction with booking a facility with a bed available. Hotels require lot's of notice and aged care facilities won't offer anything beyond the next week or two. And Covid 19 has isolated me even further. I have even considered if life is even worth living. But then someone will have to step up...someone will need to feed her...get a bucket and sponge and clean the floor when she doesn't make it to the toilet. Someone will have to care...because I am almost out. At least before, when I took drugs, I was numb...and now, I am starting to remember why I did. Nobody told me that being a caregiver would destroy me, yet, that is what it is doing. |
| As the world begins to open up, my thoughts have been focused on getting back to a place I love, Thailand. The people are, despite the hardships and poverty they face (in general), friendly and welcoming...the land of smiles. At the end of my last meeting (in fact, for all of them), we are given a challenge...something that we would like individually to achieve by the next meeting. I often speak about returning to Thailand, and Vicki put it to me to look at costing another visit there. So, I went one better and booked my flights and accommodation. I fly out on the 30th January 2022 for two weeks at Patong, on Phuket Island. Now to organise respite care for my mom and find someone to birdsit my canaries while I'm away. I deserve this holiday, and it will give me more incentive not to fuck up during the next three months. Today I didn't use...and today, I gave myself a reward for getting this far. |
| I am just seven weeks into this journey, and today there came a realisation. No matter how many times I have been down this road, it is never the same. Withdrawal can come quickly and only last a few days...or it can last for weeks. Symptoms at the beginning range from panic attacks, which are so frightening, claustrophobia, terrible anxiety and the feeling that I need to run. Luckily, this only lasts for a night or two, and then the variables kick in. Last night, even after all this time, my skin felt like someone was randomly poking me with a sharp needle over my entire body, and at night as I am trying to get comfortable, this was a reminder that I am far from being totally detoxed. I have gotten off lightly though, and I count my blessings each and every day that I don't succumb. Knowing what the results will be if I do, which fuels my desire to continue this battle. It's a battle that is far from over, and it would be arrogant of me to think otherwise. Defeating this drug, that has plagued my life for so long, will be ongoing and may last for many more years to come. At the moment, I am enjoying this feeling. I'm happier than I have been in a long time. I'm proud of myself and of the work I am doing. I look at myself in a new light. I'm morphing from an addict, into someone who can actually envision a future without meth. Someone who knows only too well the problematic life that choice would bring. Seven weeks, that feels so much longer. I want to put so much more time between myself and the person I was. I have many challenging days ahead, but I am ready to face them. Every day, I am preparing my body and mind, so as to give myself a chance of finally overcoming these demons...demons that I know are still inside of me and will take any opportunity if I drop my guard...even for just a second. Today, even with the disappointments and reservations that came, I didn't use meth, and for me, that's all that matters. |
| I just got home from my meeting. I haven't missed any since that door opened to me, and that it is something of which I am pretty proud. Tonight, I had a run-in with Vicki (the facilitator) about how the meetings were being conducted. It ended up making a difference because after this confrontation occurred, the group finally felt like it became a real group. Many people fear conflict, but in my opinion, so long as it is done with a degree of assertiveness, it can bring solutions that remaining quiet never will. I believed that Vicki had too much structure and control and that there wasn't enough talk happening between the individuals within the group. Instead of sitting back and saying nothing, I took the opportunity to voice my concerns, and there was an immediate change. We then spoke as a group...supporting each other with our battles. To her credit, Vicki released the reigns quite a bit to allow us this extra freedom. Whilst I understand from her point of view it cannot be a free for all...that there are rules as far as what is said not to trigger or cause offence, it was a good feeling to know that we can voice our thoughts during this process...that we are heard...the very reason I chose this type of therapy compared to one on one. Monday and Friday are my double training days...workout and then bike, but yesterday afternoon, we were hit with a storm, and I couldn't ride. So instead, I went this morning and it was so peaceful compared to the afternoon clamour of traffic. So from now on, I'm doing both a morning and afternoon ride. Today I didn't use meth, and just writing those words brings a smile and a sense of pride that I like a lot. |
| The weekends have always been my Achilles heel. Triggers are to be avoided, but Friday and Saturday nights will come no matter what I do. This time, it's different...I'm different...things are different, and now, the weekends are not stressful, they are enjoyable. There's nothing and no one that can make me lose this fight but me...and I don't like to lose. I didn't feel like getting on my bike today...I've been having trouble sleeping and I was up till 2.00 am the night before, but I made myself go because I want this more than I have wanted anything in a long time. When I got back, I felt like Rocky Balboa at the top of the stairs . This is my fight...and I am going to do everything in my power to win. |
| This week saw my first real craving...it didn't last long and I wasn't in danger. In a lot of ways, I'm lucky I am addicted to meth and not some other drug. I imagine how hard it would be if I was addicted to alcohol or nicotine, and then when the urge came, within ten minutes, how easily all my hard work would be lost. I am lucky that the current shipping restrictions, caused in part by Covid, are stemming the flow of drugs from SE Asia, which makes it extremely difficult and expensive to buy meth (that's even if I wanted to). Fortunately, the only thing I want now is my health, my wealth and my wisdom, and that leaves no room for a drug that will rob me of all three. Next time I feel a craving, I'll reach for my phone and call the 24/7 hotline that is saved to my contacts and speak to a Counsellor...knowing that in a very short period of time, the feeling will pass. Today, I did a workout, then got on my bike. It was a lot easier than last time and next time, I'll push myself even harder better faster stronger (thanks Kanye). Today, I didn't use meth, or for that matter, any drug. Today, I lived the best life possible. Today, I'm happy and in control...taking comfort in the knowledge I will never go back to that life I left behind. |
| I didn't use today...there's not much else to say that I already haven't. Take the good and enjoy...accept the bad and realise it is not as bad as it seems. Attend my meetings and take what I can from them...train and train and don't stop training. Don't fold. |
| Things are now beginning to settle into a new norm. I'm not sure if this is the end of the honeymoon or I'm just having a down couple of days, but I don't feel as enthusiastic as I was last week. Training is still going well and I can feel my strength building...even seeing my shoulders in the mirror becoming more defined is a good feeling and shows the results of my efforts...but still, something is niggling. I am due for a break from caring, but with international travel opening up within a few months, I would rather hold off taking a break now and wait until I can get on a plane and go O/S. Thailand again. Chang Mai or somewhere up north...or maybe I'll go back to Phuket Island which is such an idyllic place to stay. I've been having drug dreams...last night I was at a party and everyone was high on MDMA...they all looked so happy and were all touchy-feely with each other. I felt really left out and sad that I wasn't involved and if someone had offered me a pill, I have no doubt I would have taken it. At least if I had, it wouldn't have cost me anything and no come-down to deal with, but no one did...and I guess that's how it has to be. Funny how meth was my poison, and yet, I dream about taking Ecstasy. Today is my double day...weights soon and then on the bike...I can feel the difference it's making in my fitness and my general health. I won't let a dream shroud the reality of what could happen if I let my guard down 'just this once' and take drugs 'for old times sake'...addiction is raising its ugly head to test and see if I am ready to fall back into its clutches. "No addiction, not today. But thanks for reminding me you're still there." |
| Today, I wondered...how did I do it? Yes...meth can give some extra energy, but it only lasts until the next dose, and as time went by, those extra doses needed to become more and more frequent. And with every dose, the money would disappear. Time seemed to pass so quickly when I was high, and I thought I was getting things done, but now I look back and see, I wasn't getting much done at all...the walking dead. A big part of my decision to stop using was when I started noticing my short term memory was slipping, and not just when I was high. Even on the days I wasn't high, I would go to find or do something, and all it would take was a small distraction, and it would be gone...which is a very scary thing indeed. My 'friends' only came around when drugs were involved...and since I stopped using meth, so too, these 'friends' have stopped calling and coming around. So much of that lifestyle now has me wondering...but the good news is in the six to seven weeks since I last used...my memory has noticeably improved...my lungs don't hurt when I breathe and the wheeze has improved a lot. My bank account has stopped hemorrhaging and has now turned around. Even though I have fewer friends in my personal life, I know I will meet people who are real...who will care about me and aren't just hanging around because of a common addiction. Today I wondered how I did it for so long, but not once did I wonder why I stopped. . |
| Tonight, I'm completely spent. Did the double this afternoon ...an hour in the gym followed by thirty minutes of cycling . Someone I used to do drugs with popped by to see me this morning...he didn't call my phone first cause meth, pot, alcohol and ciggies tend not to leave much money leftover for bills. He collected some stuff I was storing for him and once he realized I was stiill on track, he didn't stay long. He did comment that I was looking good, which made his visit worthwhile for me. Early to bed sounds pretty damn fine to me. Today, all it would have taken is a word, and all would be lost...but as we carried his stuff to his pickup, he looked like he was going to collapse from exhaustion, and I was hardly breathing...and I was content. |
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