One screw up, and so much lost.

March 17th will be 30, yes 30 months clean. 30 months on this damn methadone program. 30 months struggling month after month to lower my dose. 30 months struggling just to get to the program to get medicated. Struggling to get to the program and home for the hubs to get to work on time. Struggling to find babysitters to get my monthly group in. Struggling and fighting so hard just to make contact with my counselor, who've I had since April 2010 and have yet to even meet, or even speak to.

January, I fucked up. I did. I can blame the snow. I can blame the ice. I can blame the program being closed the only day I was able to attend group. I can blame my mother in law for bailing out on us 3 different afternoons that month. But it was my fault I didn't make it to group in the month of January. February 1st when I realized the month was over, I called. Right away, "Hi My name is...Who do I speak to about....? What are the consequences going to be if my counselor doesn't return my calls or meet with me? I left voice mails for my counselor. I spoke to her higher up. I came in to see her where told she'd be with me in a few minutes, and after an hour of waiting and then finally asking what was taken so long, being told she walked right past me to leave for the day. Which wasn't the first, or last time she has totally blown me off.

Needless to say, they took away 7 of my bottles. Now I have to go back to weekly pick ups. So many people think, "Whats the big deal, you came daily in the beginning?" Or, "You did weekly pick-ups for months before the bi-weekly's." It's not that I have to come in every week. It's that I've only fucked up once. Never a dirty urine. Never raised my voice and cop't an attitude like the rest of the junkies who don't get their way. Never missed a treatment plan, a group session before this. Nothing. And they rip my bottles away. Yet, I have the person right behind me in line bragging about how they still only come twice a month and have never been to a group since moving program locations, 18 months ago. Go ahead and tell me life isn't fair, hell my 5 year old just told me the other day, but god damn it, this is just not fair. 

And to add insult to injury, my much awaited dose decrease had been denied. That makes no sense at all to me as well. Then the nurse is going to tell me to talk to so-and-so right then and there to clear it up? Um, I wish I could. I really wish I could. But I have a husband who cannot leave for work until I get home. I have three kids who are going to be waking up very shortly. I just cannot drop everything to meet with someone right then and there. Maybe if they would meet with me right then and there, I could have, but considering they usually make me wait 1-2 hours sitting in a waiting room, and then, only after all that time waiting, tell my my counselor either just left for the day, went to a meeting, took someone else who just walked in, or my favorite, went to lunch.

The drastic personality I tend to have is telling me to just quit cold turkey. I can do it, really.
Yea, sure. Then I think, "Um, Nicole....You start feeling withdrawals if you don't take your dose until the afternoon, are you really able to handle 3-5 days of that, slowly getting worse, and then finally getting better? Is losing a few bottles worth risking the fight and urge so intense to ease the pain? A fight you don't know if you can win?"

I want off, but I want off the right way.

Then I start thinking, "Well you've been told time and time again, to get anywhere in this program you need to be loud, obnoxious, and just plain rude. You were just told this, this morning! Yell. Get loud. Make threats. You're good at that with your husband and father, why not these people? You can be just as big of an asshole as most of the people there, as well as half the staff." Yet, while I do tend to get a little loud and mean when arguing with my husband and father, I am not going to do that with a group of people simply doing there job. But then again, if my counselor will actually answer the phone when I call in 2 minutes, maybe I will do just that.

All I want is just to free this hold Heroin has left on my life. I am suck of it controlling every aspect of my life. Is that really too much to ask?

The Blame Game

We all place blame. It's not our fault we are late. It's not our fault the house is dirty. It's not our fault the kids are misbehaving. Etc, etc, etc.

Last week when at the monthly group I have to attend to keep my bottle privileges, the topic was Responsibility. One thing covered was taking responsibility for our addictions. I learned I am not the only one still holding a grudge, but not everyone else is letting it consume them.

While I am completely aware it was my choice to let someone stick a needle in my arm, I still can't help but place blame. I don't blame her for being willing to do so when I asked. I blame her for entering my life again. I blame him for bringing her back into our lives.

See, Tom was using Heroin when we 1st began dating. He became clean 4 month into our relationship due to a prison sentence. When he was released he stayed clean. For 8 years. In that 8 years friendships ended harshly with old friends. One of those old friends had turned to Heroin. After things disintegrated it took a while for the hubs and I to get over the problems it caused for our then brand new marriage. It hurt when he let her back into our lives. I asked him to choose and he wouldn't stating that she needed us at the time. This was right at the time my grandmother had her 1st heart attack and was hospitalized. Right at the time I had just had Collin. I tried so hard to make the best of her being back in our lives. I am very good at pretending to be a friend to someone I hate. I don't like people to think I don't like them. Whoever it is. Plus I give way too many chances. After my lovely suicide attempt her and the hubs had me committed. During this whole few months she had been using and I had been so afraid of the hubs slipping back to his old ways. Needless to say I was miserable during my week in the nut house. Saying and doing whatever I had to, to get out. Every time I called home she was there. Helping take care of my children. I missed my son's. I missed my husband. And I was worried beyond belief that he was choosing this woman, who had hurt me so deeply before, over me. While I was in there we had received our tax return. I didn't learn this until money months later. They blew through the whole thing. Between me not being mentally stable, her having access to dope, and the hubs having all this extra cash on hand, despite us needing it as he was laid off, he went on a week long run. All while his wife was "trapped" in a psychiatric ward.

When I got out, something seemed off about him. Three days after I was released, I went to a court hearing with her. After court she went to "pick up". I offered to go with her. Something I refused to do before hand. When she pulled into a commuter parking lot and prepped everything I more stated it than asked, "He's using; isn't he?"

Then I started asking questions. What is the difference between smoking, snorting, and shooting up? Other than the needle, does the Heroin burn? She answered me but questioned why I was asking. Then I asked her if she'd share. She did. The moment she began to push that plunger was intense. It was only a small amount but I felt it go right up my left arm and distribute through out my body. As soon as I felt it reach my lower legs I barfed. Outside of having my children it was the best feeling I had ever felt. It was intense. And it started a downward spiral. Soon, my once every couple of days use, became a couple of times a day. Within a couple of weeks I could not go to work without it. As soon as I came home I needed it. I had such a love hate relationship with Heroin, her, and my husband for just over a month.

For a very long time I told everyone I started using before the hubs picked it up again. Very few people knew the truth. Until now. I am sick of holding secrets.

We had already lost our apartment and were just waiting for everything to become official before hand. The day we were moving into my parents home, my father called asking point blank if we were using. We denied it, asked him how he could believe a lying junkie over us? He claims he knew, but the day I came out and told him I needed help he was stunned. I hated her so much for snitching on us. How can she? Now I look back and that is something I am thankful for.

Yet, at the exact same time, how can I be thankful for her spilling the beans when it never would have happened in the first place had she not be in our lives? Had it not been for the hubs bringing her back into my home, he would never had used. Had I not been already in the deepest depression I had ever felt when he and she were using right under my nose, I would not have tried it. Had it not been for them, I would not be stuck on Methadone.

Hubs and I will start arguments over something like a fork being in the sink right after I start the dishwasher, and they always lead to our pasts. Neither of us can get over it. I can't get over him letting himself be around an addict. He can't get over not putting his family first. While I know he is remorseful, and she has apologized and we have all moved on for the most part, I still can't get it out of my head. I still can't stop playing this stupid blame game. I still blame both, her more so, for my addiction. I still have trouble taking complete responsibility for my use. I still feel ill when I see the photographs taken during that period. I still blame her for taking 6 months of my 2nd born's first year from me. Yes, I was there, but I wasn't. Had they not brought that stuff into my home, I wouldn't have nodded through an entire 6 months. I still continue to place the blame.

I do take responsibility for each and every bag I had shot up. I do not take responsibility for having the opportunity. I do not take the responsibility for feeling so alone that I thought it was the only way to have people by my side. I do not take responsibility for missing out on 6 months of my son's 1st year. I do not take responsibility for it nearly ending my marriage. I do not want to. I'm not ready yet.

I've read and been told numerous ways to get over this. Yet, all of them have the same consensus. One must want change to make change. "Change your train of thought" "Think about something else" "Meditate" "Take yourself away from the situation" etc etc etc. How can I do that when every single little disagreement the hubs and I have lead to the same argument of me blaming them? How can I do that, when I want to yell, "it's not all my fault!" to the entire world? How can I do that when I am still pointing fingers at both of them? How can I finally move on?

The Weekly Grind-Methadone Style.

Every night before bed I call an "888" number. Every morning as soon as I wake, I take my methadone.
Every Wednesday, I wake up before the sun and go to the clinic.
I wait in line amongst other "addicts" and listen to their stories.
I listen to all the "Well I have's" and the "I did's". I listen to all the "war stories" as one of them put it this morning.
I listen to all the gossip, and trash talking. I listen to all the complaining.
As the line moves I make my way up to the desk. I swipe my card. A card with a photo.
(This photo is bad. I never knew how much of a junkie I looked like until that photo was taken.)
I show my six empty bottles and wait to see if I have to give a urine that day.
Then comes the other line.
More Waiting. More "war stories." More gossip. More complaining about lines, staff, and policies.
The line moves so slowly.
I wait (im)patiently for my turn to one of the two offices.
(This clinic is better than the one I was on just 5 months ago. Everyone has bottles, not many people are still using. People here are actually wanting to be on the program and not use.)
People love to be behind me, as I only have 6 bottles. Most on Wednesday's have 13.
I make my way in and swipe again.
"Good morning, Nicole. How was your week?"
I hand over my six empty bottles so labels can be checked.
The nurse gives me my Methadone for the day, flavored with Tang, and makes small talk.
(blech, that stuff is horrible on it's own, try adding Methadone to it. Gross.)
As she fills my six new bottles, I cross out my name on the six old bottles with a sharpie marker and throw them into the trash.
"See you next week, Nicole," the nurse says as I zip up my container I store my Methadone in.
And off I go.

Every. Single. Wednesday morning I do this. I am only gone for an hour-ish always back home by 6:30 at the latest.
Every. Single. Night. I make that call to that 1-888 number, hoping my client I.D. isn't on the recall list.
If it is, I get to go back another day. I get to wait in line again, have my bottles inspected, which takes all of two seconds, and off I would go.

I thought Heroine was controlling my life. And it was. I have yet to get back the control I once had before the addiction. I mean, yes, I have more control than I did then. I mean, I don't have to rely on 2-4 calls a day. I don't have to rely on someone answering a phone that many times. I don't have to beg, borrow, and steal anymore to get gas money, heroine, and hope I have enough cash left over for diapers. I no longer have to worry about not being able to cop, which turns into not getting out of bed or off the couch all day.
I do have most of my life back. All I need is this tedious medication out of my life and it will be mine again.

Now, to convince these people I can lower my dose again.

I am fat.

Other than my parents and brother, I haven't had any one come right out and insult me with fat jokes or insults. Or just plain call me fat. That is until now.

This morning, I went to the methadone program as I do every Wednesday when most of North America is still sleeping, or at least home. Everything is business as usual until I get in my car. It takes me a minute to fall into such a low car with an even lower driver's seat. So my door was open for a minute. Not open all the way, as the car next to me was able to back out without a problem as I was climbing in. Next thing I know I am being screamed at. Yes, I should have closed my door faster knowing that my fellow junkies can be a tad "rush-y" this early in their day.

"Close your door you fat bitch"
I was in such shock at the comment, and am already an extremely sensitive (cries at the drop of a hat) person.
The tears welled up before I could even think to reach for the door.

"Ya stupid fuckin' cow! Close your door"
As he shouted this comment I was closing my door. I yelled back to him that I was sorry. If he had just honked or yelled close the door, it would have been closed faster. Again, saying I was sorry.

He just went on and on and on, wasting the time he claimed I was taking from him. "You are just trying to make me late." Yea, my whole goal in life is to make everyone else as miserable as I am most days. Really, my life revolves around people I happen to walk by once a week.




This whole incident lasted 2-3 minutes TOPS. Yet, it really got to me. As I drove off all I could think to myself was, "I am fat..."
My mother used to tell me all the time how I looked like a whale. My dad would ask me why my sister looks like this, and I look like that. Why my thighs were so large, why I have a muffin top... My brother always knew how to get to me: call me a slut or something along those lines or call me fat.

So this morning, him dropping this F-bomb, really stung. I have always had low self-esteem. I have always thought of myself as the ugly sibling. Our family has a joke that the only reason I had kids is for the attention.

I absolutely hate my body.
I haven't felt comfortable in shorts since elementary school.
I hadn't worn a bathing suit for years until last year when I actually felt good about my(pregnant)self.
It took me becoming a heroin addict to finally feel comfortable in my skin. And then the few months of new sobriety before pregnancy, I felt amazing.
It was short lived.
I weigh now at least 15 lbs more than I did on the day I delivered Bailey.

I know some of my weight is my problem. I eat reese's daily, I get iced lattes or frappes daily. I don't get to the gym as often as I should.

I am the person who needs results. I will spend a week or two really eating right and hitting the gym, and see NO results whatsoever, or even gain a lb or two.
Why stick with it?



As always with my blogging this is leading to a rambling mess. I am just so sick of being labeled as fat.
No wonder I have really taken to the new ABC Family drama, Huge....

Ramblings

I have been getting so much more traffic lately and of course have nothing I want to blog about. So, I thought I'd just update on all of us

Collin has amazed me today. For a boy who does not/can not say much at all, he really shocked me. I got what, wait, juice, thank you, cheeze its (LOL), kiss, and stop. ("wha" "way" "deuce" "dank yo'" "dees itch" "dist" and "top") He is making me oh so proud. Another Collin brag: For a few days now Collin has been asking to go potty. He pee's each time. I love that he is doing this all on his own. Makes a mama proud.

Bailey was so silly today. Everytime one of her brother talked to her or smiled at her, she'd clap. Big, big, wide-eyed smiles, with tons of clapping. It was adorable. She also discovered two cabinets tonight. The pots and pans in one and tupperware in the other. She is at that age where she is doing something new and exciting everyday. She has been randomly pulling up to standing for a week or two, but now she is doing it all.the.time! The best is when she pulls up onto my leg and I start to slowly walk, she walks along with me. I love it!

Thomas is such a good helper with Bailey. I cooked dinner tonight so hubby could fix the toilet and  as always when I step foot into the kitchen, Bailey started screaming. Thomas sat with her, in the kitchen, kept her away from Vader's dish and my feet since I was cooking with hot oil. He gave her some puffs, and he is the one who showed her the cabinets. Thomas wrote all 26 letters of the alphabet the other day. Made Mama so proud!

On to the hubby. We have been arguing a lot lately, but it's normal for this time of year. Just waiting for it to pass! He was sweet tonight though, he went and got me an iced mocha, without me even mentioning I wanted one. Then he got all three kids ready for bed, "just because."

Me...I have been really depressed and angry lately. I hate it. Yet, I am used to it. I am so glad I am still breastfeeding Bailey and it means so much to me. I have been having intense thoughts lately of using and hurting myself. It kills me to feel this way and think this way. I keep having to make myself think of other things. Like the fact that if I follow through on any of my thoughts I cannot nurse her.

I have a new counselor at the program, again, so I need to build a rapport with her before I can feel comfortable confiding in her. I know I will get through this. I always do.


OH! The biggest update! I got an email last week from a publicist at Discovery Health. She said she came across my blog and after seeing Bailey in a Snapshot Saturday post, she thought she'd be perfect for the contest they are running, now until July 1st. Winner gets their photo shown on a commercial on the DK channel, and runner-ups will get featured as baby of the day on the website! There will be 16 finalists.
I know it's not like a grand prize or anything, but it is still an amazing feeling to know someone else honestly thinks your child is beautiful.


Now, I think that is all that is going on worth mentioning. Hope everyone else is doing well!

Continuing the fight.

Some days it is all I think about. Some weeks it never crosses my mind. My father and husband say it will always be like that. I have no desire to go back to that lifestyle. I have too much going for me. I have three wonderful children, one of which I would have to stop nourishing from my breast, if I were to go back to that lifestyle.

I saw the person who introduced me to my best frenemy. She was telling me how to beat the methadone program. Telling me how she still is able to shoot up, without giving a positive urine. How she never feels the withdrawals because she still has her methadone to keep her from the pain.

And then, for a moment, I thought about it. I get take home bottles Friday through Tuesday. If I skip my dose on Friday, use on Saturday, take my methadone as prescribed on Sunday/Monday/Tuesday, the heroin will definitely be out of my system by Wednesday when I have to go in to the program, letting me pass a random drug test. I thought how amazing it would be to feel that syringe enter my vein. How beautiful the sight of my blood entering the syringe would be. That, nothing in the world matters but this, feeling when the plunger is pushed. That euphoric sensation that takes over my entire being almost instantly. I even thought about how it would make this weight loss journey so much easier and faster.

Then my daughter started reaching for my breast. I nursed her, and thought, How would I feed my baby girl if I did that? I thought about how using once a week leads to twice a week, and so on and so forth and knew it would lead me right back to where I was 19 months ago. I never want to go back to that life. I never want to be that person again. I never want to rely on something just to get through the day again. I never want to be that desperate for a measly $15 again.

Some days fighting a heroin addiction is no big deal. Others its a struggle. I will get through those difficult days. I will ignore the temptation. I will stay clean.

Into my life again?

I found something last night. Something I was sure to be completely out of my life.
Supposedly it was still there from before. Some things were missed when we cleaned up our lives.
Supposedly.

How do I know what to believe?
Do I believe they are from the past and trust my husband?
Do I believe they are new, something is being hidden from me, and not trust my husband?

He tells me I am retarded for not believing they are from the past.
He tells me I am stupid for not believing he just didn't throw them out.
He tells me I am an idiot for believing he is returning to that low again.

Yet, I cannot figure if I am upset for finding something?
Am I upset for not finding more?
Am I upset for not having the choice of being able to do anything if he were?
Am I upset because if he is the jealousy I already feel not knowing is already taking control of me?

I thought it was over, the cravings, the need, the want. I thought I was passed all that.
I thought I was the type to get over it, and be done with it.
Not one to struggle for a lifetime because of it.
Yet, here I sit, wondering where he is, wanting to feel this evil again.
I do still crave it.
I do still need it.
I do still want it.
I am not passed all of this.

Methadone Vs. Heroin.

Another day where heading to get medicated is 1st on my list of to-dos. On the few lucky days where I do not have to waste time going down to the clinic, I am still tied down. I have to call in before drinking my disgusting green bottle and if my i.d. number is listed, I still have to head down to the clinic. I have to make sure I see my counselor every 4 weeks to sign up for another bottle and to make sure I am stable enough to receive my bottles. And I am supposed to attend hour long groups regarding addiction, healthy relationships, vocational training and more.
First thing in the morning, before hitting the clinic, you just have this overwhelming sense of laziness. You do not want to move, let alone get out of bed. Then after you drink it, or at least after I do, that wave of nausea comes, then you feel "normal" again. You feel better. Until the next morning.

As tied down as it seems, its really not much different than shooting up.

Before the methadone program, I still had a #1 on my daily to-dos. To come up with $30, then call the dealer. Then take the same drive that always seemed like it took at least 5 hours when in reality it only took 5 minutes. Then, instead of mixing that nasty green filth with juice to make it go down easier, I would have to mix that dirty brown powder with .5 mls of water, put in the tiny piece of cotton, and draw it into the syringe. Then the struggle that took forever to find the vein. All the while my body would ache and pound and pulse. My arms, legs and back, felt as is I had just been beaten with a bat. Runny nose, watery eyes, dry mouth. Honestly as bad as you feel in the morning before getting the methadone, this pain is much worse. Kinda like as the flu is about to attack. Yet, as soon as I would push in that plunger I would feel every ounce of my being "get better" The pain would just lift away, you can actually feel every inch of your body become filled with euphoria. The wave of nausea would come, but its not that bad. In fact, it doesn't even matter. Nothing in the world matters, because as bad as it can be, no matter how much you have lost, it does not matter, because you feel like you are on top of the world. Nothing can stop you.

Until it wears off, an hour or two or three later.. Then the hell starts again.

Okay, I guess there are some differences, as in the methadone lasts like 8x longer, but instead of the sense of euphoria you get with the dope, you only get a sense of normalcy.

At least that normalcy does not cause you to lose everythig you have, and does not cost $250+ to feel better per day.

Been a while huh?

Wow, I haven't blogged in ages! So much has happened!



I am in my 2nd trimester of my pregnancy-going great, check the details (and pictures) our at my other blog The Unexpected. Oh, if boy, baby is Samual Adam; if girl, Bailey Grace Elizabeth.

My parents moved out! We are officially on our own. Tom and I in our own room. Thomas in his own real bed. Collin in his crib, when he isn't climbing out. The boys are lucky enough to have a playroom, all to themselves! They love it! I my own computer back, though it is really slow and old, I have my photoshop back! We have the backyard all to ourselves, the boys love it!
-Oh and we also have a roommate! Vinny is my brothers friend of 7 or 8 years. And helps us out with the rent, which is great! He isn't ever home when I am so it works perfectly!

Work is going great! I love waitressing so much its weird. I love the tips, the attention, and all the flirting. Who knew being pregnant would turn on so many guys? In fact, one guy actually said to me, "Man I so wanna bite the shit out of your belly!" WTF?? Whatever... Hours will be getting cut soon as the leagues are all ending, but all is well.

The meth. program sucks.. I refuse to see the shrink there anymore, as he thinks I am crazy.. Apparently I am not stable enough to take home my methadone bottles, I may OD or poison my kids or something... Fuck him. Plus he wants to prescribe me meds that are catagory X for pregnancy... Fuck him again. I really wish I could detox. I really want to detox. I believe I am ready to detox. I can't detox. Detoxing means buh-bye baby. That would be bad!

My mind is really fucking me. I am having problems decifering fact from fiction, and reality from dreams as of late, and I need to find a new shrink to discuss this shit.. Thank god for free medical now.. I am having alot of manic-down mood swings lately and rapid crazy highs.. I know I need to find a med that I can safely take while pregnany and breastfeeding. I refuse to take a med I cannot breastfeed on, or that will harm my child.

Mostly though things really are going well. Heck I am even planning my very 1st weekend EVER out of CT!

Oh! Here are my latest photos and creation from photoshop!

Counting Cals, Photography, Parenting, Sobriety, & The Work Force

Counting Cals
Eating healthy is going great! 3 days is longer than I have ever made it. I haven't eaten over 1,500 calories in three days, but am not hungry. Now to work on including breakfast everyday. It is a pain in the butt to watch calories though, but I like having something to focus on.

Sunday: 1,445
Monday: 1,245
Tuesday: 1,169

I will probably have another snack around 9:30..



Photography 101
I just joined a new message board, http://ilovephotography.com/forums/, I probably won't frequent it as much as I do the photo-board on Just Mommies, but I will hang around a bit.

I am still struggling in Manual on my camera.. for some reason I cannot get anything but very black photo's unless it is complete daylight.. whatever, I will figure it out something.

I applied for 3 different photography positions today, hopefully someone will call. All of them provide free training, so we will see.


Bed time Blues
I have never mentioned this before, but we really have a lot of trouble getting Thomas to sleep and were starting to have the same issues with Collin. Not only did I start my diet on Sunday, but I started a new bedtime routine for the boys. 7:45 Collin gets his last bottle. We brush his teeth. By now it is 8p.m. I put on his Baby Mozart DVD. I lay him down w/ his blankey, lion, puppy, and wormy. Give him his kiss and tell him I love him and walk out. He is completely out by 8:30, so then it is Thomas's turn. He brushes his teeth, goes potty one last time and then picks a movie. I put it on, tuck him in and give him a kiss and hug and we say our I love you's. The boys are adjusting well to this. I really hope it sticks!


Sobriety
Man does it suck... I watched intervention last night and was nearly drooling over a guy sticking a needle in his arm. How freaking sick? Today I was finally given a urine at the program.. but of course, I couldn't pee. I swear unless I am pregnant or peeing on a stick I cannot go. I can't.. This sucks, I cannot progress in the program unless they know I am clean, they won't know I am clean unless I give a urine. And.. I cannot give a urine..

Also, my counselor left Friday.. So I am without a counselor.. Also, I was supposed to meet the psychiatrist for the 1st time last week but he had an emergency. I cannot reschedule that appt. until I get a new counselor, so another week or so I have to wait. I really need to build a rapport with these people so I can learn to trust them and fully open up. I need to get a lot out, figure out a lot, and learn some things about myself. And get on some medication..

The Work Force
I quit Stop & Shop 3 weeks ago, started selling kirbys, quit that.. Now I am waiting for the post office to send me my practice tests and test date. Hopefully I can get in.. At least it pays well and has awesome benefits. I would have loved to have stuck w/ Kirby, I was sooo good at it! The hours sucked though, I was never home. 8:45a-9:30-10p is way too long of a day with two small children.

I miss it.

I want it.
I really, really want it.
I crave it.
But do I need it?
No.

It's amazing how something that came into my life, that took away that pain for a few moments, caused so much terror. It caused me to lose everything. Yet, I still want it. I still love that feeling it gives me. That amazing, no one can touch me, euphoric feeling.

I miss it.
I really, really miss it.
But will I get it?
No.

I know what it will do to me again. I know I am struggling now to fix everything and one little taste will ruin everything again.

Eyes wide shut.

My eyes are always closed.
Never am I awake.
When medication knocks you out,
it is time for a change.
But what if you cannot survive with out it yet?

What should I do now?
I was wrong, blind and stupid before,
and now I am sane..
But I am never awake,
never there.