Sobriety Turns Me On

The humdrum, simple moments of life are what I want so badly I can taste it.  I fantasize about it.  I have dreams flushed with the radiance of life’s simple pleasures, the everyday trials and rewards that routine brings.  I also have exasperating dreams where I use copiously and can’t get high, and mind-blowingly satisfying dreams where I use and it feels sooo good, like it did the first time.    

I wake up every morning with the hope that my high today will be better than it was yesterday, that maybe it will feel good again.  The ecstasy of using disappeared a while ago.  For the most part, all it does now is help me maintain and keep feelings of sickness at bay.  My greatest wish is to wake up, go to a dull job, come home, eat dinner, spend a few hours in the evening winding down, and repeat it the next day.  I would find so much satisfaction in that.  I fear losing everything, including drugs, which are my final and failsafe lifeline.  I am fucking up so badly with my obligations at work and home that I anticipate encountering something drastic every time I step outside my door.  Even so, drugs create this invisible shield that buffers me from all of it.  It’s a mental partition that keeps me from being too concerned over the reality of my situation, which is that I’m hanging on by less than a thread.  My goal is to make people think I’m hanging on by at least a thread, but that veneer is beginning to wear extremely thin.  Every day I screw up and blow things for myself and people around me, and I think, tomorrow; I’ll get it right tomorrow.  Every night I go to bed with the best of intentions to get up at 5AM, crank out a week’s worth of work by 9AM, another week’s worth by noon, tend to everything I’ve been neglecting for months, and achieve some damage control by patching up a bit of the harm I’ve caused.  Realistically, I usually stay up using until 5AM, but this thought process carries over from Monday to Tuesday, then to Wednesday and so on, until another Friday has come and gone.  Then I think, I’ll catch up this weekend.  I anticipate each weekend as a chance to make up some extra credit points.  It never happens.  Pretty soon weeks start bleeding into each other, then months, and it starts to sink in that I’ve lost control.  Still, every morning I wake up hoping that today will be a better day than yesterday, and that I can make things up a little to the people in my life.

I used to have this fantasy as a kid that I could freeze time and still move around in the world.  For instance, I would freeze time and spend a week doing whatever the hell I wanted, and I could clean my room too.  When time started up again, my room would be clean and I wouldn’t be in trouble anymore.  I wish I could do that now, and just take some time to myself to rest and recharge.  I would keep time frozen as long as it takes to finally get a restful sleep and wake up feeling refreshed and restored.  I wish I could actually ask people for an opportunity like that, to just take a week to rest.  I hit a wall a long time ago, and I just need to back up for a short while and catch my breath.  I can’t bring myself to talk about it with anyone though. 

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12 Comments

Filed under Drinking, Drugs, My Life, Sleep

12 responses to “Sobriety Turns Me On

  1. papa_rod

    Find an AA meeting to go to. You don’t HAVE to say anything…just go.

  2. iwright

    Oh, this is so hard to read! You seem like such a well put together young woman with a bright future. If I had half the brains you do…life would have been different, I’ll tell you that much!

    I know practically nothing about addiction. My mom is a recovering addict – she’s been using prescription meds for five years, and before that was in treatment for a five year stint with alcohol. Because I’ve never been addicted to anything besides coffee (and that was over when I joined the Mormon church) I’m pretty much clueless.

    I know I don’t know anything about it, but your honesty about your struggle makes me incredibly sad. I wish so much that it was easy, that you could just do what you know you need to. You’re so intelligent, so aware, such a great writer. I’m afraid for you, that what could be a beautiful life will end in tragedy. I know there’s probably nothing I can do, but I’ll be prayin’ my little heart out for you tonight.

    Nicki

  3. iwright

    Oh, this is so hard to read! You seem like such a well put together young woman with a bright future. If I had half the brains you do…life would have been different, I’ll tell you that much!

    I know practically nothing about addiction. My mom is a recovering addict – she’s been using prescription meds for five years, and before that was in treatment for a five year stint with alcohol. Because I’ve never been addicted to anything besides coffee (and that was over when I joined the Mormon church) I’m pretty much clueless.

    I know I don’t know anything about it, but your honesty about your struggle makes me incredibly sad. I wish so much that it was easy, that you could just do what you know you need to. You’re so intelligent, so aware, such a great writer. I’m afraid for you, that what could be a beautiful life will end in tragedy. I know there’s probably nothing I can do, but I’ll be prayin’ my little heart out for you tonight.

    Nicki

  4. Hmmm….I know a bit about loaded/not loaded. Write me @ transformedia@mac.com. Or don’t. You’re gonna do what you gotta do either way. You will see when you can see, and hear when you can hear.

  5. Hi papa rod, I went to a couple of NA meetings a while back. It was a really good experience. Funny that you say that, because I didn’t say anything and felt a little guilty for not contributing. I will make a point to find my way back there soon. Thanks.

    P.S. The picture next to your comment melts my heart. :)

  6. Hi Nicki, thanks for your sweet message. My mom is addicted to both alcohol and prescription pills, so I can relate a little. :-) I will say some prayers for you too. I applaud you on your faith, and I hope you are are finding happiness where you are. Genuine thanks.

  7. Hi transformedia, I will drop you a note. Thanks.

  8. papa_rod

    Thanks for stopping by Rhea. I will keep up with what’s going on with you…remember that we are all broken clay pots and there is only One who can fix us and that’s the only way we can be fixed. That is the basic premise of AA or NA. Whether you call the supreme being God or whatever…since you have already told me you are a Christian then I would say that you should rest in Jesus and go back to NA. God bless you and keep you throughout these days.

    Rod

  9. Thank you Rod. I like the imagery of the clay pot…so true. Thanks also for the spiritual encouragement. It goes a long way.

    Rhea

  10. I wish you luck Rhea.
    A friend of mind has been struggling with drink & drug addictions for about the last 10 years (god where did that time go), but finally after many failures at rehab she seems to have turned a corner. She’s been clean the last six months.
    Don’t give up.

  11. Thanks scrinium. That’s great to hear about your friend. I think you have to really want it for recovery to stick. Best of luck to her in continuing to stay sober.

  12. bottlecappie

    My thoughts are with you tonight, Rhea. Please try to believe that nothing is so badly broken that it can’t be fixed. When people really love us, they forgive our mistakes and help us put our lives back together. You deserve that time you so deperately crave, time to heal yourself, to set things right.

    I wish I could tell you how I got the strength to ask for help, but I’m still trying to figure that out myself. I do know that I’ve been suprised, shocked really, at how kind everyone has been, how understanding, even though I am intentionally vague about the nature of my current struggles.

    Your craving for the simple pleasures of life, the strength of that craving, seems to speak to a profound desire to be well, to be whole. I hope you will find a way to nurture that desire until it grows stronger than your desire to get high. Until then, please be safe.

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