Thank You God…

 …for sending us a beautiful snow storm.  On the weekend, no less (always greatly appreciated).  The snow fell all day, and even the mail was shut down.  It is an exquisite night.  Outside, it is eerily still and tranquil, and the city is blanketed by a frosty silence.  The moon and stars are invisible, but the light playing off the glittering snow makes it bright enough to read.  The roads are empty, and it is comforting to think of all the people tucked away inside in their homes.  I don’t have any calories in the apartment other than alcohol (which is running low), and I’m getting a little hungry, but that’s beside the point…I treasure these nights.  They are so peaceful.

 …A special prayer for all the homeless, that they have shelter, food, and warmth tonight and throughout the winter.

Adolescent Risk Factors and Warning Signs…

…for drug use.  This stuff seems pretty basic and self-evident, but gentle reminders never hurt.  We all play our parts, even those of us who don’t have kids. 

Info taken from National Institute on Drug Abuse: Preventing Drug Abuse Among Children and Adolescents ( http://www.drugabuse.gov/pdf/prevention/InBrief.pdf ).

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Risk Factors                            (Setting)           Protective Factors

Early aggressive behavior     (Individual)     Self control

Lack of parent supervision   (Family)           Parental monitoring

Substance abuse                     (Peer)                Academic competence

Drug availability                    (School)             Anti-drug policies

Poverty                                    (Community)   Strong neighborhood attachment

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Early Warning Signs….

• lack of attachment and nurturing by parents/caregivers
• ineffective parenting
• caregiver who abuses substances

 Protective Factors….

• strong parent/child bond
• parental involvement
• clear limits and consistent enforcement of discipline

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. 

Moving Toward Treatment

Yesterday I went to a counseling session.  It felt so good to do something positive for myself.  It lends a new perspective to have things evaluated through the eyes of another person, especially someone who is so clear-headed and objective.  It was quite sobering, and I left feeling both relieved and scared.  We worked on a plan to start moving toward sobriety, although our goals are different…I want to get back to where I’m in control of my using again; he wants me completely clean.  I know I’m deceiving myself if I think I can contain my habit, but the idea of living a chemical-free life for more than a week is alien and nerve-racking.   I have zero capacity for controlled use.

He talked about enabling.  He defined it as people who allow me to use without imposing any negative consequences.  When I think about it in those terms, I guess I know a lot of enablers.  He talked about building a support system of about four people to be a safety net when I’m feeling tempted to use.  I couldn’t give him four names.  We came up with two, but it was a stretch.  My habit has given me the courage and motive to burn bridges, sabotage healthy relationships, and withdraw from the world.  Two years ago I would have been able to name a host of people that I felt close enough to trust and reach out to for help.  Addiction is most efficient when it is safeguarded by isolation.  Over the last couple of years, I’ve consistently chosen addiction over relationships with family and friends.

He talked about methadone.  I’m not sure what to think.  I asked about potential for abuse, and he said there is potential, but distribution is regulated.  I didn’t ask what happens if you crush it up and shoot it with smack, because if it is another way to get fucked up, then I’m all for it.  I will have to learn more about it.  Therein lies my vice…I tend to abuse anything I can get my hands on.  I thought of asking about buprenorphine, since it supposedly has a lower potential for abuse, but I stopped myself because why on earth would I choose a treatment that can’t be milked for another high over one that can?  He did say it’s dangerous to be on heroin and methadone at the same time. 

I don’t know whether it’s wise to voluntarily consent to a government drug test (I assume it would be accessible to the government if it’s through a clinic) and have it become a part of my permanent medical history.  The thought of having my name next to a positive check is profoundly disconcerting.  It may never make a difference, but once I commit, I can’t undo it.  I would hate to clean up, put my life back together, try to get a job in the courts someday, and be denied because the information surfaces. Maybe I should stick to short-term goals and worry more about surviving now than about the far-off future, but I don’t want to dig a hole for myself that I can’t undo.

Woohoo! I Not Stupid

‘I Not Stupid’ is the name of a movie I saw several years ago at a Seattle film festival.  It was great.  Anyway, the title went through my head as I woke up this morning.  Last night was the big night…my presentation for the two-month project that I unwisely condensed into a few days of frenzied research and nutty writing.  The presentation was more than an hour long (brownie points), and I think it went very well.  I was able to answer every question and look like I knew what I was doing.  I even felt like I knew what I was doing.  Peculiar….

I planned to get unreservedly drunk last night in celebration, but I had an agonizing headache (too much learning?), so I will celebrate tonight.  Tomorrow I will actually pick up a book of fiction again and feel the splendor of its enthralling pages.

I am so thankful the semester is winding down.  A few finals, a few more papers, and that’s it!