It's Raining Inside

So much anger. Where does it come from? Emotions wore out my sleeve. It’s now wrinkled and crinkled and tattered and torn. So easily offended. So easily I cry. So easily hurt. Hurt, hurt, hurt. What do I do? With all of this shit? Where do I put it? I can’t stuff it down. I can’t eat it all, not anymore. I can’t gamble it away. Not anymore. I can’t cover it up with a pill or some booze. Not anymore. Not anymore. I can’t, I can’t. Not anymore. So what do I do? Where does it go? The shelves are all full; there’s no place to go. I am confused. So lost. So unknown. I used to know. There once was a place for my heartache to go. But not anymore. I’m not sure what happened. I really don’t know. I woke up one day to a . . . life? I don’t know. I was lost. I was strange. I looked in the mirror, but I wasn’t me anymore. Scared I was. Scared I stayed. Feeling so lost. I felt raw and betrayed. But who had done this? Who was to blame? Just that girl in the mirror, the one without name. Bitch I dared call her and bitch she remained. Till I just couldn’t take it, not another day. So I covered it up, this monster inside. I ate and I ate and I gambled in shame. When that didn’t work, I took pills. All in vain. Bitch wouldn’t leave, she only remained. Actually, she grew and she grew until she owned even my name. Now here I sit - worse off then before. The monster inside owns all that I am. Is that really so bad? All that’s left is the mad. Maybe through madness, through all of the pain, I can fight my way out and reclaim my soulless name. I guess I will try. Nothing else to do. I’m all out of pills and food doesn’t taste like it used to. God, if you’re there, if you’re listenin’ to me, please give me strength. Without it, I’m doomed.

Today My Heart Sang and it was Lovely

This evening marks my second full day on Suboxone. Wow! I never knew normal could be so good - feel so good. Plenty of energy. Good mental attitude. No depression. No apathy. No sadness. No fatigue other than the physically induced kind. Was up at 6:30 a.m. Cleaned house for a bit, did the laundry, went antiquing with Shannon, shopped at Wal-Mart a bit, came home and made dinner, cleaned the kitchen and finished washing the bedding so we can climb into a clean bed tonight. So nice to be engaged - doing all the day-to-day things I wouldn't be able to do "normally". Shannon and I are getting along marvelously, which makes my heart sing. His too. He's told me several times what a nice weekend he's had. Me too. I just feel so good. Hope it lasts.

Me. . . Normal?

This is it. Day One. I started Suboxone this morning for treatment of my opioid addiction or dependence or whatever it might be. What is it anyway? Why do I love opioids? Why do I have to have them? Do I really have to have them or do I just want them? Hmm. There's the million dollar question. I need, or believe I need, opioids because they allow me to be someone I'm not without them. They ARE the perfect mask to the muck that lies beneath. Happy, engaged, interested in the world around me, content, funny, caring, energetic (yeah, ok, mornings only - but still - energetic at SOME point in the day), loving and kind = Karen ON opioids. Off opioids? I'm none of that. I'm depressed and sad and dull and apathetic (that's a biggie!), unmotivated, lethargic most of the time, loathsome, fearful, anxiety ridden and, at times, even suicidal. No, I have never attempted suicide, but I sure do think about it - a lot! Undoped, I desire drugged out Karen's existence - I long for it - I want it so badly, but I can't get it. Without opioids I simply cannot BE that person. And it sucks. It sucks so much. I sit and think about it - over and over and over again. It's on my mind every waking moment. The obsessive thinking snowballs. Then I find myself sitting around thinking. . . well, if you live so well ON dope, why not go get yourself some? Why not just live life every day fully drugged? If I have to live - which apparently I do because I'm not dead yet - why not live happy? I use that line of thinking. . . every single time. . . to relapse. I give myself permission to "go there" once again. Initially, it is wonderful. The euphoria I experience with the ingestion of that first little pill. . . oh my. . . it's like nothing I can explain. It's 1000% better than the best of orgasms! Really, it IS that good. Sadly, it doesn't last. After that first little pill, it's game over. And because all I want is to feel that good all the time, I start ingesting larger and larger quantities trying to get "it" - the feeling - back. It never works. I could eat 50 Vicodin and even that wouldn't create the high, happy feeling I experience after taking just 1 Vicodin after a 3-4-5-6 month hiatus. Because I've been on this roller coaster for years, my body/mind has built a tolerance to the shit and I just can't get high or high enough. And it is sooooooo frustrating! The more I take, the more my body rebels, which leads to thoughts of needing to get clean. So here I am. Getting clean. Or trying. Unlike the 100 times before, this time I'm doing it under the care of a doctor and a therapist. This time I'm taking Suboxone. And today is day one. I took my first dose at 6:15 a.m. Before taking it, I was in indescribable agony. The pain was so severe that I feared I wouldn't be able to roll out of my bed. I wanted to die. I did not want to face what awaited me emotionally because it's just too painful. I know from past experience. . .emotional pain is far worse than physical pain. I did not believe the Suboxone would treat that side of this hell. I thought. . . take some Suboxone. . . it will ease the pain. . . and then, in time, I'll see the therapist and maybe she'll have some magic potion or therapeutic exercise she can prescribe to kill my mental anguish. I'm happy to report, I was wrong. Within minutes, the Suboxone filled the opioid receptors in my brain and I felt. . . normal. Not high. Not depressed. Not apathetic. Not like drugged out Karen. Not like undrugged Karen. Something in between. I believe it's called normal. God, can this be true? Really? I have longed for this moment and now, here it is or so it would appear. Please Dear God, show me Grace. Let this be. Let normal be my new existence forever.