SuboxoneMom

At first you don't succeed.....

2010-02-08T22:21:00.003-05:00

Try and try and try again.

I always feel better, metally/emotionally, when I keep a journal. Perhaps because I get all my thoughts and feelings out on a daily basis instead of waiting for some poor slob to come along and ask me how I'm doing. By that time, I'm usually a mess.

I had such a disappointing conversation with my son last night. He is a junior in college and lives on campus. I haven't seen him since he went back after winter break. And I miss him. Not that we spend a lot of time together when he is here, but just knowing he's here hold a comfort all its own.

Anyway, I was on my aol account and checking my email when I received an IM from him. He asked my advice on a personal problem he is having with his best friend. He said that he is starting to question their friendship and his friend is doing things that my son does not approve of. My son used the words, "He disgusts me". He said that their other friends are slowly backing away from him, trying to avoid him, etc. I asked if they are avoiding him also, because of association. He said that they are still the same friendly bunch with my son as they have always been. But they are making their feelings known. And they too are questioning my son's friendship with him.

Note: I have just spared anyone that might come across this post the horror of having to read the entire situation between my son and his best friend. I typed out the entire scenario, and it was so friggin long that "I" got bored proof reading it. So I deleted it. Consider yourself lucky, if you happen to be reading this......lol!

The point of my journaling is to get out my feelings, resentments, etc. It is NOT to write about someone else's problems. Because there was actually a point to my writing about this. It's bothering me to no end.

I love my son. And I am so proud of him and his ability to ask for advice. And I am amazed by his trust in my opinion. I think that little of myself.

After advising him regarding his situation, and being sure to praise his ability to realize that he does have choices today, he hit me with the bad news.

In November, I asked him if I could take him to Vegas for his 21st birthday. I told him that I wanted to be present for his first drink and his first pull on the slots. He immediately informed me that I had missed his first drink. Okaaaaaaaaaaaay. I get that. So I rephrased it and told him that I would like to be present for his first LEGAL drink and pull on the slots. He was all for going away. He thought it was a great idea! I told him that we would take the red-eye out of Newark Liberty and be in Vegas around 3am on his birth DAY.

Well last night, he knew I would not take his news well. He said that first. Your not going to like what I going to tell you Mom..................... In that long pause after that first sentence, so many things runs thru a "Mom's" head, I cannot even tell you. So when he said he was thinking of NOT going to Vegas, I had to laugh. That's all? That's it? That's what he was afraid to tell me? Well, that was easy. That is, until it actually sunk in. I am greatful that he was not present or on the phone with me when he told me. Thank God for the smallest of miracles. He was so afraid he was going to hurt my feelings. And he did. He hurt me. I was so struck by his maturity in this one conversation, yet I could not stop crying for the son I was losing in the process.............

He wants to go bar-hopping with his friends instead. I immediately told him that if we could just go for 2 nights, I would promise to have him home for Friday night. Nah. He wants to be with his friends ON his birthday. He doesnt't want to be with me. I cannot tell you how much this hurts.

Now, if I could look at this reasonably, I could see he is right. Hell, I didn't want to be with my parents AT ALL from the age of 14 until about 23 when I got married. I chose my friends and alcohol every time. And unlike him, I didn't care what they thought. It didn't bother me if I backed out of a event with my parents to be with my friends. And I never even considered what they thought or how they felt. So in that respect, I am lucky.

And I am lucky enough to know that if I laid the guilt trip on him, he would have certainly chose to go on this trip. He would've sacrificed his wants for mine. And if he only knew I was crying as I was typing to him last night, he would have completely fell apart.

So I did what my head told me to do, and not listen to my heart. Because my heart was breaking as I typed that being with his friends, and barhopping on his birthday sounded like so much fun. I told him that he only turns "of legal age" once, and he should be with his friends, doing exactly what he wanted to do on that day. UGH!

And so today, I am feeling more than sorry for myself. I am walking around as though a part of me had died. When in reality, its really that a part of me (my son) is beginning to live. And I'm having a hard time letting go..............

Returning To Work

2009-03-04T02:12:00.001-05:00

Yep, I returned to work yesterday. Unfortunately the excitement of doing so has gone. I'm over it. One day there and I'm already wishing I was still out on disability............

Finally...........

2009-02-27T13:38:00.002-05:00

I was finally given the "go-ahead" to return to work. For some, dread may be the reaction. Not for me though. God knows I love my fiancee, but we have had enough of each other.

More later, here he comes! See? I'm running away from him these days.......
Not good............... :0(

2009-01-14T23:56:00.002-05:00

I am posting from my sick bed. Seems I have either slipped a disc or have some type of spinal spasms that have allowed me all this free time to scream in pain. Excruciating pain, btw.

Now for an opiate lover such as I, these so called muscle relaxers haven't done shit for me. So I suck it up, and scream it out. My poor youngest son is so afraid to even come within 10 feet of my bed for fear of him bumping the mattress and sending me into another fit of rage, anger, pain, and tears. There have been many, many tears this week.

SO I sit, and have a pity party for myself.

On the upside, Tim bought me a new cell phone. Titanium Voyager. Love it. Love it.

Well, feeling shitting, signing off!

Godspeed.

Janice

2008-12-19T06:35:00.002-05:00

Well, I'm still here, and quite happy I might add. WTF? This is definitely NOT me. Not at this time of year.

Tim and I went out all day on Wednesday, Christmas shopping of all things! And I am proud to report that we had not ONE disagreement, argument, misunderstanding. Now that is big for us (or me, I should say).

This has been a tough year. My depression not only stayed with me throughout most of this past year, but it was the most debilitating depression I have experienced to date.

My youngest son turned 10 yesterday. I had the kitchen in full decorated mode so that when he woke up and came in for breakfast, he was surrounded by balloons, streamers, banners, etc. I haven't done that in years, for either child. I had his "goodie bags" ready by 6am so that he had them to pass out to his class ON his birthday. Last year, there were no "goodie bags". His mama took a mental vacation for that birthday.

And last Christmas, Tim had to actually shed a few tears of disgust in order for me to even contemplate putting up a Christmas tree. So I reluctantly got my fat ass out of bed on Christmas Eve morning, crawled in to the attic, threw down the decorations and threw up the tree within 15 minutes. When I think about it I could cry. How selfish I was. How depressed I was.

But you know what is even more amazing. As I write about my guilt, I am already in a phase where I refuse to let the guilt fester so that it gets so enormous in my own mind that I get a case of the fuck-its. I refuse to let guilt ruin my present or my future. It has already spent enough time ruining my past.

Now that, my dear friends, IS PROGRESS!

So fuck guilt! Bring it on baby! I ain't having none of that this time. No way, no how. You can try to ruin my holiday high, but you can't do it. So there!

2008-12-10T11:51:00.003-05:00

A new start.....again.

No, not because of relapse of drugs/alcohol. Not because of depression. But because it hit me today that I enjoy to write here. To put my thoughts down in writing, where I can express every emotion without worrying about how someone else may take my mood(s).

Here is where I feel, well, carefree.

But the BEST part of being here, writing here, is that when I am finished with a post, I ALWAYS feel better. Always.

I remember years ago, when harboring a resentment against someone I was sure was put on this earth only to aggravate me, my sponsor used to tell me to pray for that person. Of course, my usual response was something on the lines of, "Oh, I can pray for them all right! I can pray they run over by the first Mack truck that comes near them!".

When the thoughts of praying for a person seemed to be too much for me, she would suggest I write the ghost letter. Ya know, a nasty-gram to that person, getting out all of my frustrations without having to edit my language or hostility. Then I was NOT to send it. That was the part I never quite understood. Until I realized after writing my zillionth letter that I felt so much better when done with my poison penning.

But my main reason for writing again is because the holidays are upon us. And I do not do well with holidays. So far, so good. So instead of waiting for the doom to hit, I have decided to take a more productive approach and try and head off the depression. Not so much for me, but for my kids. They deserve to have all of me this year. Pray for me, and for them.

Lord, please allow my children to see the wonderful, spontaneous, loving, caring and giving mother that I know I can be.

One Day At A Time

2008-06-15T09:52:00.003-04:00

Well, the depression is definately lifting, slowly but surely. I still want to hibernate, here, in my bed, and sleep my life away. But it seems that the meds are allowing me to attempt to do anything but. I'm not saying that I don't sleep most of my weekends away. At least the weekends when my little guy is with his Dad. But at least now I can at least "do" something with him on my weekends with him.

I doubt very much that he considers me an exciting Mom. Today, I am 7 years alcohol free. So considering I was drinking the first 2 years of his existence, at least we can say that I do remember most of his childhood. And most of it was either doing opiates, or even worse, trying to come off of them. Then the was the 4 years on Suboxone, when I was doing okay. Just not really really interested in too much child-raising.

Which brings me to my reason for posting today.

I thank God for my father. He took us in, when my second husband left us. I was planning on staying for 6 months, while I got my act (and head) together. That has never happened by the way, lol.

But here I still am. My, my kids, my Dad, and my fiancee.

My father is an enigma.

ENIGMA
Pronunciation: \i-ˈnig-mə, e-\
Function: noun
Definition: Strange/mysterious person; hard to explain/understand

My Dad is going to be 78 years old in a couple weeks. Throughout my Mom's illness and eventual death there were days when I knew for sure he would never live much past her death. He was the best husband a woman could ever hope for. She was spoiled....rotten perhaps.

He did all the grocery shopping, cooking, not to mention being her personal chauffer. My Mom didn't drive anywhere besides her job which was 2 miles from our home. And then there was her long-standing Thursday appointment at the salon to have her hair "done". Something that is foreign to most of us. She didn't drive on any highway or byway. Refused to drive anywhere that had to be reached by a bridge or had anything to do with an on/off ramp. I doubt she she even knew what exit we lived off of on NJGSP.

She never knew what it meant to walk from a parking space for that matter. He dropped her off at the door of every mall, shopping center, doctors office, etc. And then picked her up at the door when her business was done.

He took her to the most beautiful places. Hawaii, Aruba, Mexico, Vegas. He showered her with jewelry. Now mind you, she didn't have the jewelry box of Liz Taylor. But he was her Richard Burton, for sure.

Looking back at it all today, I wonder if the reason I have never found "Mr. Right" is because I compared anyone and everyone to my Dad. I based my relationships comparitive to how he treated her. And I have yet to find anyone even close.

Although Tim is by far the best man I have ever been with.

I am the youngest of his two daughters. I am his favorite. I know that. My sister knows it too.

Well, that's enough about me. What is happening with anyone out there?

Oh, and HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Suboxone Mom

Recovering Resentment........

2008-06-11T00:02:00.001-04:00

I don’t normally focus on my recovery regarding alcohol. Because to me, alcohol is a non-issue in my life. Tim does not drink, my family (most anyway) don’t drink, and most of my friends that do drink do so in moderation.

I found the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous at the ripe old age of 29. It was a long road of denial to get there, but I did find recovery back then. I was sober for 7 years, with a one year hiatus from sobriety and then back to AA. So I have been alcohol free since Father’s Day of 2001. They say that once you have a “slip”, you lose all of your sobriety. You have to start counting from your last drink. Father’s Day, 2001. However, those 7 previous years in AA, before my “slip” I did have sobriety. And I had it GOOD! I jumped into AA with both feet that first time back on August 29th, 1992. I got a sponsor, joined a home group, made coffee, went on speaking commitments, and surrounded myself with others in recovery. I won’t get into that one year of insanity, when I thought that I had the disease of alcoholism licked. I can say that at the end of that blackout drinking, I found myself exactly where I was 8 years prior. Alone, afraid, coming out of a blackout, not knowing where I was, where I had been, etc.

The second round of AA was a little more difficult. Not because I thought I wasn’t alcoholic, but because I didn’t really care. However, during that one year, I did continue to go to AA, raise my hand and tell everyone at my homegroup that I was “coming back” after a slip. Yet I continued to drink.

It will be 7 years of constant sobriety on Sunday. I have since stopped going to AA. However, I choose to still practice those principals in all of my affairs. Regardless of whether AA is for you or not, those 12 Steps are certainly a wonderful guideline to how one should live their life. The program is a wonderful foundation for anyone who seeks recovery.

The reason I do bring up AA and alcoholism is because I have a resentment today. All of my co-workers decided that they would meet up after work at a local bar. No one invited me. Yes, 2 people DO know that I don’t drink and reason why I don’t. Therefore, paranoia set in. Do the others know? Is that the reason I was the only person in a group of 15 people that wasn’t asked to go along? No one was whispering about the plans. And Tim insists that I am just being paranoid. But I still have this left out, square peg in a round hole, empty and paranoid sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Yes, I go to bars. Yes, I know some people in recovery frown upon that. But for me, today, there is no temptation to drink. I’d like to think that I have aquired some common sense along these past 16 years. I cannot drink. I blackout and make a total jerk-off out of myself. I’d like to think that I wouldn’t be tempted into that feeling of waking in the morning wondering how much of an asshole I made out of myself in front of my co-workers. Me? No thank you. I made an ass out of myself without alcohol. I don’t need to add to my daily dose of humility.

So, I won’t mention my resentment at work tomorrow. Nor will I ask how the party went for all the hung-over and rude people I work with. I will remain obviously quiet and see if anyone catches on. Or will someone surprise me and just ask why I didn’t go with them? Maybe it was just an oversight. But if you ever were to meet me, you could soon realize that I am very HARD TO FORGET!

If your still reading this....?

2008-06-03T15:58:00.002-04:00

Over the past months, since beginning this bloggy-thingy, I have received several emails from people struggling with addiction and questions regarding Suboxone. I am thrilled to death to be contacted. Not because it makes me feel special, but because I feel that I can actually help someone. Not exactly the type of experience one would put down on a job resume, but experience just the same. Okay, not something most would be proud of, but to be honest, I am proud of my progress regarding the oxy addiction. By progress I mean the fact that I am oxy and Suboxone free today. And do you want to know why?

Because there was someone who was there for me, to answer all my questions. Just a stranger at the time. Willing to listen to my fears and frustrations.

So to those who have emailed me, please know that you are NOT BOTHERING ME. I am honored by your questions, really.

However, please email me again at least once after I respond. Because if you don't contact me again, I have no idea if your okay, or if my words have helped you.

And I don't want to email you again because I do not want to scare you away. Or even worse, turn you off to Suboxone.

Because Suboxone saved my life. Truly saved my life.

That's all folks!

Hugs,
SubMom

No consistency with Cymbalta

2008-06-02T03:07:00.004-04:00

Although the Cymbalta "seems" to be working at times, it certainly isn't a cure all for depression. At least for me anyway. I go up and down with mood swings like I have NEVER done before. WTF?

Tim and I had "THE" worst fight in the history of our relationship the other day. I did something during that fight that I have never done before. I completely lost my mind and wiped off everything on his nightstand with one quick swoop. Those items included, but limited to the following; a crystal lamp, full ashtray, full can of Red Bull, a basket filled with jewelry.

Afterwards, we talked about my mood swings. I am just praying he will hang in here with me through this bullshit. I am going back to the doctor to have a heart to heart with him this week. Normally, I go every other month. And truthfully, before my severe depression this time, and since then, I haven't really been that honest with him. I just keep saying everything is fine with me. And things aren't fine. Better? Yes. Good? Sometimes. More often not good.

I don't lie to my doctor because of fear or insecurity. Really. Do you wanna know why I lie to him? Because by the time I reach his office, I am actually exhausted from stress. His office is located about 20 miles from my home and 40 miles from my office. And it is NEVER a good drive to get there. I am hardly ever surprised by the traffic. I even leave earlier than it should take with traffic. But somehow, every fucking time I go in that direction I am literally hitting my brakes every second because it is always bumper to bumper type traffic. I have tried other routes, but to no avail.

So, when I finally DO get there, my brain is so mushy I can't even think straight. So I take the lazy way out. I tell him I'm fine.

I went to my cousin's birthday party today. She turned 6 years old. Her parents hired ponies for the party. My son was impressed.......

As I was sitting watching the pony rides, my cousin, who happens to be a LSW sat beside me and we began to chat about my depression. She is probably the only one in my family who has even the smallest inkling into my condition. But if you don't suffer from depression, you can never truly know the insanity of it. Anyway, she recommended that I go see the doctor and ask him to prescribe a new medication but she didn't remember the name of it. She only knew that it was mixture of Prozac with something else??? Oh, he'll love that description of medicine I am sure, lol. But you know what? I am game for anything at this point. Still only enjoying either 2 or 3 consecutive days of "normalcy" and its just not cutting the mustard for me. Because after those 2 or 3 days I feel as though I am right back where I started. Paralyzed to join the human race. I do absolutely NOTHING but sleep, cry, whine, fight, and create resentments against those who love me and have been so supportive with all this. God, I hate myself sometimes. And yes, I hate the disease, I know. But I hate myself more at times.

Thursday we went to Atlantic City for an overnight jaunt. I had a blast. Love those slot machines. But Tim doesn't put one thin coin in the machines. He just follows me around until I get comfy on a machine, he walks around and returns within 5 minutes. And then he stands over me until I feel as though he is just waiting for me to be done. So after dragging him around 3 casino's, I finally let him off the hook and we returned to our room at Caesar's. My Dad gets rooms comp'ed to him for all his time spent down there. So when we returned to our room, I lit about 20 candles all over the room and proceeded to the jacuzzi. When I came out, toweled myself off and came into the bedroom, I heard that oh so familiar sound. Snoring. GREEEEAAAT!!!!! So much for romance. I was so livid that I thought a blood vessel popped in my brain. It wasn't even midnight. I made as much noise as possible, and moved around the bed like I was on fire. Nothing. He never even moved. I finally threatened him that I was going back to the casino, and he picked his head up off the pillow, smiled, nodded and plopped his head back down. After 3 threatening pleas, I got dressed and headed back downstairs. I was out gambling from 2:00 am and returned to the room at 5:14 am. And ya know what? HE NEVER EVEN KNEW I LEFT!

We woke up at 1:00pm, got dressed in silence (oh he knew I was beyond mad at this point), got the car and headed home. He finally spoke about 15 minutes out of AC, asking me if I wanted to stop here or there. "Nope" was the only word I used all the way home. 2 and a half hours of the silent treatment. We got home about 5pm. Saturday I worked and my boss invited us over for dinner that night. I texted him that WE were going, and he should be home by 5 to get ready. He was home by 5, a miracle itself. We went to my boss's house. We had so much fun. So at midnight, I turned to Tim and said I wanted to go home. The drinking and drunk talk was beginning to get a little out of hand amongst the hosts and guests so I wanted to duck out before they got too crazy. We came home, and watched TV, cleaned, did laundry and went to bed. We went out Sunday morning. A quick trip down the shore to pick up my little guy. Since I was the one who wanted him home for this party, Ty's dad insisted that I come and get him. I reluctantly agreed. And my ex must have called me 10 times. Because I am famous for telling him I would do something, and then go back to bed. I don't blame him for being skeptical as to whether I would show up or not. He knows about this last bout of depression, and has been trying so hard to be supportive.

As we were driving home, we stopped at a garden center, bought flowers for Mom's grave, a small cafe set for my patio, and a few other odds and ends.

When we got home, Tim informed me that he wouldn't be accompanying me to my cousin's party. Surprise, surprise.

After the party, I went to Walmart and then came home.

So I was out Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I made 4 days of actual living like a normal person! I am trying NOT to focus on the downslide I usually experience a positive bout of normal living. But since I am up, blogging at 3:42am, chances are not good that I will make that 5th day of normal living. I am trying so hard to get my mind off of that fear, I'm making myself a little crazy.

So, goodnight and keep your fingers crossed that I actually can get out of bed for the 5th day in a row and be productive!

Hugs,
Suboxone Mom

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!

2008-05-04T00:23:00.005-04:00

Finally!!! I’m up and running again!

Did ya miss me? Yeah, I know……. You never knew I was gone. But that’s okay! Because I knew I was gone. I missed journaling this intense, crazy and dysfunctional life of mine, one day at a time. I truly feel as though I get something out of this blogging thing. I get to go back over my day, beat myself up for all I didn’t do, and pat myself on the back for all the positive things I may have accomplished.

Okay, so I may fall mostly to the “beating myself up” side. But I have hope. And that’s all I need today. Just a glimmer of sunshine, peeking thru those dreary days when this fucking depression gets the best of me.

I have to say, though….. I’ve been doing much better. When I do remember to take my meds that is. I don’t know what my problem is with remembering to take them. And when I forget, I forget for DAYS at a time. WTF?

And thank GOD I never was so scatterbrained when I was on birth control pills from the age of 25-35. I would have been pregnant at least once a year, every year if I had to rely on the memory I have today. Geesh!

In my time away from the blogging world, I have managed to put at least three “GOOD” days together at a time. A huge accomplishment for me these days. So now I’m striving for four “GOOD” days.

Starting tomorrow, May4th, (oops, today cuz it’s after midnight here!) I am starting a new regimen of healthy living. No, I’m not giving up the cigs and Red Bull. The cigs have not been too much of a problem anyway. Without my computer for the past 2 months, I’m smoking about 4 cigarettes a day. Compared to a pack a night just sitting here, surfing the web and playing Alchemy for hours at a time.

I am going to start eating healthy, salads and veggies. I have read in a lot of blogs where women have turned to exercise to release their stress or alleviate their symptoms of depression, so I thought I’d give it a try. Baby steps of course. One stroll around my block and I’ll probably drop dead of heart failure! But hey, it’s a start right?

So that’s it for me tonite anyway. I’m hoping to get my man in the mood for a little hanky-panky! I owe him BIG time for the bitch I have been this past week. Hey! I never said I had 3 “GOOD” days in a row this past week, did I? This week was actually a really bad one for us as a couple.

So excuse me while I go do some makin’ up with my baby. If you find a post very soon after this one ends, you’ll know my sexual heat and hot propositions didn’t woo him back into my arms. Or back into any other part of my anatomy! LOL!

Wish me luck ladies……

Revelation

2008-03-25T02:53:00.003-04:00

Ever since I began to keep a journal, I realized that my depression is a lot more serious than I ever thought. Because I am able to look back on previous posts, I notice how much of my life is a roller coaster of emotions. Up or down. Never just in between, living life "normally" (what ever the fuck "normal" means). Because I have never known normal. I have known the extremes of my emotions, but never truly enjoyed the ride.

But what I most have realized is that since I have stopped the Suboxone treatment, my depression BOTHERS me.

I am positive my life before Suboxone was just as extreme, with the "lows" being the predominant emotion. But then, when I discovered opiates, they took my emotions, along with my energies to a new level of "high". I was energized like never before; I was SUPERWOMAN!! I could scrub my house from top to bottom in no time flat, have the laundry done and actually PUT AWAY! Dinner was on the table, with an outing on our agenda for afterwards. And when everyone was tucked into bed all snuggly and warm, I would just keep going and going and going.........

Until that fateful day when I realized that it was taking more money in one day in order to get that wonderous feeling than I could possibly make in a week. Why the arithmetic didn't add up until that day, I will never know. I guess I just kept shoving the insanity away until it came to the point where I could no longer feed my family or put gas in my car. I mean, I certainly could scrounge up enough for an oxy or two, but buying groceries was OUT OF THE QUESTION!

And during Suboxone treatment the depression was definately there. Right up front, out in the open. BUT!!! And a big BUT here: I didn't care that I was depressed. Maybe because I was just so grateful not to be using? Or maybe I was just so fearful of using again I focused all of my attention on just surviving day to day bullshit without using?

What I often struggle with is my forced recovery. And no, I don't wanna use. But seriously, would I have EVER thought to quit the oxy's if I had an unlimited supply of money? Or, better yet, if I had the keys to every pharmacy within a 30 mile radius of my house. And along with those keys came the permission to just "help myself" whenever I needed to? Sadly, but more importantly, HONESTLY, the answer is probably a big NO!

No, I would not have quit taking them. I would have just kept on "upping" my dose as needed. And in "upping" that dose, I realize that today, I would probably be dead. I know that. So that is why I choose not to use, just for today........

Two Good Days In A Row!!! Yipppeeeee!

2008-03-12T10:42:00.003-04:00

Knock on wood, I have been productive for almost 48 hours! Not counting my sleeping which has also been kinda "normal". Tim works nights, so I haven't truly slept thru the night since early 2002. I doze off and on throughout the night. But as soon as I hear his car pull into the driveway, I used to be OUT LIKE A LIGHT. So much so that I would never stay awake long enough to greet him as he was walking thru the door. Just knowing the car pulled in was enough to know he was safe.

Since my eldest received his driver's license, of course my weekends with Tim off from work have also been shot to hell. I have to admit though, my son is (so far) a very responsible person. He certainly has 10 times more common sense than I ever had at his age.

I always instilled in him that as long as he was honest with me, I would always have his back. No matter what. Period. I also reiterate the consequences of lying to me. Just as I learned. The hard way. Lying only gave people a reason to not trust me. Once that trust is lost, it is so difficult to get back. And besides always being questioned regarding my whereabouts, I was mostly frustrated by the fact that I could never seem to regain that trust. The frustration that comes with people never believing you can certainly do a number on the mind. But looking back, my parents ALWAYS had a reason to distrust me. ALWAYS.

Between the ages of 14 and 20 I probably lied everyday to my parents. Who I was with, where I was going, what I was going to do. Fact is, I probably used the "we're going bowling" excuse over a thousand times in those days. However, I never seen the inside of a bowling alley until I was about 24.

My favorite saying to him, and the young girls I work with is this:

"Let me be your crystal ball"...........

The majority of people I work with are under the age of 25. Their constant dramas and sagas regarding the men (boys) in their lives is sometimes humorus. Because I see me in them. Insecure, and unnerved by their boyfriends actions. If I have said it once I have said it a million times, MEN ARE IMMATURE!!! Their maturity level does not peak until........ (I usually drift off the sentence at this point because I haven't met a truly mature man yet). Well, I take that back. I haven't been with one yet. I'm sure they are out there. But I doubt very much any of them are under the age of 24.

Well, enough rambling for today. Just wanted to post my gratitude regarding my 2 good days and my very wonderful son. Because I know as sure as the sun will come up tomorrow, I WILL have a series of bad days eventually. I am hoping that by writing this, I can reread later and reaffirm my faith in my meds, and my no so bad life. Cuz I tell ya, some days I honestly think I have the worst life ever......

SubMom

Will "it" (ME) get better?

2008-03-10T04:19:00.004-04:00

Well, its been a very slow process. I am trying to take BC's advice and just "do it", regardless of whether I want to or not. But it isn't easy. Staying in bed is just too familiar and comfortable for me right now. So again, I wasted most of the weekend here, in bed, surrounded by my laptop, cigs, Red Bull (for energy?), and the remote control. And I hate myself once again. For having no motivation whatsoever. And dozing on and off throughout the past two days has finally taken its toll. So here I am, 4:22am, wide awake. Ugh!

So tell me.....is this fucking medication working or isn't it???? ANYONE? Because there are moments when I start to feel a wee-tiny bit "normal", but those moments are just too fleeting to believe I will eventually feel normal for longer periods of time than I will like this, depressed and aching. And I am sure part of the aches are related to the depression. But the fact that I haven't moved my fat ass out of this bed in 2 days CANNOT help my body feel good, now can it.

I hate me today....... And the day has just begun. Lord, help me!!

SubMom

Long Story.......

2008-03-06T02:04:00.004-05:00

So long that I may get bored actually writing it, but here goes nuttin…….

I ran out of meds, (Cymbalta) half way thru February with my Rx not able to be refilled until March 1st. Oh, I’m lying…. I could have it refilled, BUT I would have to pay out of pocket for it. My insurance co-pay is $90, so I wasn’t even going to bother asking how much it would be without my Rx plan.

See, the thing is, there is no way that I could have run out of meds mid-stream. I remember when I picked up the script at the end of January the bottle seemed to be a little empty. But hey, I was used to looking into pill bottles and ALWAYS feeling as though they were never full enough. So I let it go. Until about the 9th of February when I realized that I only had enough meds for about 5-6 more days. 2 capsules @ 30mg each.

So I go to my pharmacy. (BTW, this pharmacist knows I was on Suboxone for opiate abuse) and explained to him that there is no way I could have taken double doses for the past 9 days. He looked at me rather skeptically. THAT alone pissed me off. I went on to explain that the last time he filled the Rx, he gave me the actual bottle of Cymbalta. Since they are packaged @ 30 pills per bottle and he had to double that amount, he actually wrote in BIG BLACK LETTERS: QTY: 60.

So this past time he also gave me the actual bottle from the Cymbalta company. Only this time he didn’t write qty: 60.

He looks at me again, with some annoyance in his eyes! Then he tells me that there is no way HE made a mistake. Now mind you, he is a teeny-weeny pharmacy located in EastBumfuck, NJ. No chain drug store around for miles. He or his assistant HAND count the pills. I have never actually seen him do any counting. It’s always this young girl who barely speaks English, let alone can READ English!

Now, keep in mind that I am trying to remain calm. I approached him with a very friendly attitude, smiling and being very humble. With the smile beginning to fade, I go on to explain that I understand that he may feel that he never makes mistakes, but everyone makes mistakes once in a while…..right? He says, “Well, I don’t”!!!!!!!!!

Now, what could this man possibly think my motive would be to lie to him? I tell him that there is NO WAY I took double doses of meds each and every day by mistake. I explain to him that I couldn’t possibly have the urge to abuse anti-depressants! I mean, can he possibly think that I would actually have it my mind to double up my dose, just to see it would work twice as fast? Or would it make me twice as UN-Depressed? Really now?

So, he actually has the nerve to suggest that perhaps the other capsules are “rolling around in my purse”. Yeah…..uh….NO!

So as I am walking out the door, I turn back and told him that I felt it would be best if he checked his inventory against his dispensing records and keep me posted.

No, never heard from him. So I stopped the Cymbalta on February 15th and went thru 2 weeks without meds. Nothing horrible happened, although I was throwing up a lot from nausea. It never occurred to me that it could be withdrawal. I still don’t know if it was or not. But I do know that I was only on the meds for a month, so how bad could it have been to stop them cold turkey.

I had my meds filled again on March 1st. Although I felt no “mental” repercussions from stopping the meds at the time, I can tell the difference now that they are back in my system. I am up again. Out of bed. Not always happy about trying to be a productive citizen of society, but I find that I can actually push myself. Whereas before, when depression was at its worse, “pushing myself” was NOT an option.

Bottlecappie was right when she noted that sometimes we don’t want to do “it”, but we must push ourselves. I honestly believe that the meds give me at least the strength to want to push myself. I’m not saying it always works, but if it works only 50% of the time, for now….I’ll take it. Getting work/chores/tasks/commitments done 50% of the time is certainly better than NEVER being able to get them done, right?

When I really began to blog, in December, I noticed that writing helps me to vent, and to go over my day, see what I did wrong or right and learn from it.

But if I look back at February, it seems my writings dwindled just as my meds were wearing off? As I said, I didn’t notice any emotional difference then, but as I look back at those last 2 weeks I was definitely not feeling as I was the month prior to this situation.

Or is it all in my subconscience…. Scary thought.

I know how I am. More is always better when it came to my addictions. And the abuse always took something that started out so well and made it end so badly. Alcohol, drugs, marriages, potato chips, chocolate, etc.

Why can’t I be addicted to something good for me? Exercise? Salad? Sunshine?

Anyway, the bottom line is this: I was not worried about being off the Cymbalta for those 2 weeks. Nor was afraid of depression or addiction. I was worried about the $90 fucking dollars I spent on half a months worth of an RX!!!!
Hugs,SubMom

Hey Hey Cinderella.....

2008-03-03T08:41:00.004-05:00

We believed in fairy tales that day

I watched your father give you away

Your aim was true when the pink bouquet

Fell right into my hands

We danced for hours and we drank champagne

You screamed and laughed when I got up and sang

And then you rode away in a white Mustang

To your castle in the sand

Through the years and the kids and the jobs

And the dreams that lost their way

Do you ever stop and wonder

Do you ever just wanna say

Hey hey, Cinderella, what's the story all about

I got a funny feeling we missed a page or two somehow

Ohh-ohhhh, Cinderella, maybe you could help us out

Does the shoe fit you now

We're older but no more the wise

We've learned the art of compromise

Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we cry

And sometimes we just break down

We're good now 'cause we have to be

Come to terms with our vanitySometimes we still curse gravity

When no one is around

Yeah, our dolls gather dust in the corner of the attic

And bicycles rust in the rain

Still we walk in that fabled shadow

Sometimes we call her name

Hey hey, Cinderella, what's the story all about

I got a funny feeling we missed a page or two somehow

Ohh-ohhhh, Cinderella, maybe you could help us out

Does the shoe fit you now??

I have the "poor me's" today....

2008-02-22T04:11:00.002-05:00

You have no idea how I am struggling these past few days. The lack of self-confidence that was not present while using is really f*cking with me. The mental anguish and guilt I am feeling because of my lack of knowing how to do anything and not having a clue of where to begin has overwhelmed me to the point of terrified tears and self-loathing. (And a BIG dose of the “poor me’s” I might add.
WHERE do I start? HOW do I start? WHEN will it hit me? HOW will I ever believe that I was NOT lazy and worthless, but embroiled in a battle of addiction and preoccupied with where my next fix was coming from.
Being a product of Suboxone recovery didn’t help me with any of that. For that time on the Sub’s my fear of relapse was so strong that I totally dropped the ball, that ball being my life.
I’m just so confused and scared I can no longer concentrate on the simplest of tasks.
Thanks for letting me “share”….

The above was a comment I just posted on http://www.whatwinnersdo.com/

And DUUUUH, it occurred to me…..Rather than waste HER space with my long ass comment, I’ll just come home, here, to finish my thoughts and my fears……

So to continue: Really, is the Cymbalta NOT working? Because my deep depression episodes just come at me from behind. They have no mercy on my heart, nor my soul. I have my doc appointment on March 4th, so being the lazy person I believe I am, I figured, why bother him now? Surely he has bigger fish to fry than dealing with a manic lunatic. Why do I get to the point where I don’t feel that my struggles are not more important that someone else’s?

I think that bottlecappie was right in a way. I don’t think that the stopping Suboxone necessarily threw me into this depression. However, I do feel that perhaps the Sub’s were masking the depression all that time. And before that it was the oxy’s, and before that the percs, vicodins, etc. And much earlier on, it was alcohol…… And for those earlier struggles with alcohol, I couldn’t be more thankful. Because I found out early on, through the rooms of AA, that I AM worth something. I am not lazy. I am not ugly. I am not a scumbag. I am not a bad mother, daughter, wife, sister.

I am just sick.

So, I guess my question is this; WHY CAN’T I CONTINUE TO HAVE THAT FAITH THAT I AM A GOOD PERSON? WHY DO I THROW MYSELF UNDER EVERY FUCKING TRAIN? WHY CAN’T I HOLD ON TO THE POSITIVE FOR LONGER THAN TWO DAYS IN A ROW?

*sigh*

Getting to know me........

2008-02-20T00:18:00.004-05:00

I was over at Anna's place earlier and took this from her.......and wow! Some revelations about those early years!!!

Here goes nuttin:

*Name: Janice

*Sisters: 1

*Brothers: 0

*Eyes: BLUE/GREY/GREEN DEPENDING ON MY MOOD AND THE SHIRT IM WEARING….

*Shoe size: 10

*Height: 6’

*What are you wearing right now? EEYORE CAPRI JAMMIE PANTS AND THE BRIGHTEST GREEN LONG SLEEVE TSHIRT YOU WILL EVER FIND!

*Where do you live? EAST BUMFUCK, NJ

*Favorite Drink: SUGARFREE RED BULL, ALL DAY, EVERY DAY…..

*Favorite Breakfast: NONE

--------------------Have You Ever-----------------
*Broken a bone: YEP, CAR ACCIDENT 1982 = JAW

DRUNK CAR ACCIDENT 1984, PASSENGER= PELVIS AND EYESOCKET

DRUNK WALKING 1987 = RIGHT FOOT

DRUNK JUMPING OUT OF MOVING VEHICLE 1987, PASSENGER = TOP OF RIGHT FOOT

DRUNK ROLLED BF’S PICKUP TRUCK 1986 (DRIVER) = BROKE RIGHT FOOT, RIGHT LEG, REBROKE PELVIS, RUPTURED SPLEEN

~~~~~~ HEY DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE A PATTERN UP THERE???~~~~~~

Been in a police car: NOPE

Been on a plane: PLENTY!

Been in a hot tub: YES.

Swam in the ocean: YES

Fallen asleep in school: A MILLION TIMES

Broken someone's heart: YEP, AND GIVEN THE CHANCE, NEVER WOULD I DO THAT AGAIN!

Cried when someone died: OH YEAH……. FROM DIAGNOSIS RIGHT UP UNTIL TODAY….

Fell off your chair? OAKY, BARSTOOL OR A REAL CHAIR?

Sat by the phone all night waiting for someone to call: UNFORTUNATELY

-----------------------What is----------------------------
Your room like?: MESSY MESSY

Whats right beside you? CAN OF SUGARFREE RED BULL, ASHTRAY, CHANNEL CHANGER AND MY PILLOWS, BLANKIE

What is the last thing you ate? STELLA DORO CHOCOLATE BREAKFAST TREATS

Great message to send to kids: BE HONEST AS MUCH AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE. TRUST IS SOMETHING THAT IS AUTOMATIC UNTIL TRUSTING YOU COMES INTO QUESTION. WHEN YOU HAVE TO EARN TRUST BACK, IT TAKES FOREVER……….AND YOU MAY NEVER GET IT BACK……

----------------------Ever Had---------------------------
Chicken Pox: KINDERGARTEN

Sore throat: YEP, A FEW

Stitches: YEP

Broken nose: NOPE

---------------------Do You--------------------------
Believe in love at first sight? FOR SOME PERHAPS, NOT FOR ME THOUGH….

Do you like picnics? NOT REALLY

Who was the last person you danced with? MY FRIEND ERIN I’M SURE. WITH HER I CAN GET OUT OF HAND, AND I USUALLY DO…………!

Who last made you smile? MY ELDEST SON’S FRIEND MICHAEL, NOT 2 MINUTES AGO.

--------------Who---------------------------
Did you last yell at?

TIM, THE LOVE OF MY LIFE…..

Do you wear contact lenses? YEP, ALTHOUGH NOT AS MUCH ANYMORE. VANITY SEEMS TO HAVE SLACKENED WITH AGE…..

Have you ever had braces? NO

----------Final Questions------------
What are you listening to right now? THE HUM OF MY LAPTOP AND MY FINGERS SMACKING LETTERS ON THE KEYBOARD. AND IN THE DISTANCE, MY ELDEST AND HIS FRIEND PLAYING SOME STUPID ASS GAME THAT HAS THEM GIGGLING LIKE 2 GIRLS IN FIRST GRADE!

What did you do yesterday? WORK EVENUTALLY, MOSTLY SLEPT……

Good singer: NOT ON MY BEST DAY

Diamond or pearl: Diamond

Are you the oldest: OF MY FRIENDS TODAY: YES

Indoors or outdoors? IN, I DON’T LIKE THE SUN AND I HATE BUGS!

------------------Today did you----------------------
Talk to someone you like? YEP

Kiss anyone: YEP, TIM ALWAYS KISSES ME GOODBYE, NO MATTER WHAT TURMOIL HAS PROGRESSED THROUGHOUT MY DAY. HE KNOWS BETTER!

Get sick? NO!!

Sing? ON THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, IN MY CAR ALL THE WAY HOME FROM WORK~

Cry? YES, THINKING ABOUT MY MOM…..EVERYDAY…..

Miss someone: YEP…..MISS HER EVERYDAY!!

Eat: YEAH (ALTHOUGH ITS AFTER MIDNIGHT! CAN WE CONSIDER THIS A NEW DAY?)

----------------Last person who------------------
Last person you spoke on phone with?: BURN FROM WORK

Made you Cry? MOM AND TIM’S DAD (SINCE THEY’RE DEAD I GUESS I MADE MYSELF CRY)

Went to the movies with? MY LITTLE GUY TY AND MY ELDEST SON, THE SIMPSON’S MOVIE

You went to the mall with? WHAT’S A MALL!??? LMAO! MY PAYCHECKS ALLOW ME TO SCHLEP THRU WALMART ON A GOOD WEEK!

--------------------Have you---------------------
Been to Mexico? NO

Been to Canada? NOVA SCOTIA IS THAT CANADA?

-------------------Random--------------------
Have a crush on someone? UH, LOVE TIM TO DEATH, LIKE TO CRUSH HIM, BUT “A CRUSH”, WE ARE WAAAAAAAAAAAY BEYOND THAT CRUSH PHASE

What book are you reading right now? “SALEM FALLS” BY JODI PICOULT I HAVE DANIELLE STEELE “SISTERS” WAITING IN THE WINGS THOUGH!!!!

Best feeling in the world? UH, BETTER NOT GO THERE…..

Future kids names? TOO LATE

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? TIMMY’S LIKE A BIG STUFFED TEDDY BEAR, DOES THAT COUNT?

What's under your bed? DON’T KNOW AND I AINT LOOKIN!

Favorite sport(s): YUK

Favorite location: SEDONA ARIZONA HANDS DOWN!

Who do you really hate? NO "PERSON" BUT HAVE A LOT OF HATES:

MY GREY HAIR

HOTFLASHES

GETTING OLDER

BEING CALLED "MAAM"

BELING LIED TO

Do you have a job? YEP

Ever liked someone you didn't have a chance with? OH YEAH, JOE MONTANAN COUNTS RIGHT?

You lonely right now? NOPE

What time is it now? 12:08 AM

In Case No One Told You They Love You Today........

2008-02-14T17:04:00.001-05:00

We Do.........

So SEX is the answer for most of my problems, huh?

2008-02-09T03:10:00.000-05:00

So check this one out! I found the answer to most of my problems..... And I say "most" because it doesn't seem to mention the insanity factor!

But I did email this article to my significant other, btw. Because if it were up to him, I'd have cobwebs by now.

Anyhoo, a little background if you care to be in the know:

Tim and I have been together almost 8 years. Before him, sex was NEVER an interest to me, except in the onset of a new relationship. I didn't know any better. I was married for the first time at 22 and had my first child at 24. I was divorced by the time I was 26 or 27.

Next came husband #2. A real charmer. He should have been a male model, really! During our tumultuous relationship, my Mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She passed away within months of that diagnosis. It was a very scary time for me. I shudder just thinking about those days of sadness and dread.

So after my Mom died, I married the gorgeous, non-working cheater. Throughout our entire relationship we were both in AA. So I thought. Until one day when I got this reall creepy feeling that something was amiss. I left work and went home at lunch time. To this day I cannot tell you what led me upstairs, into our walk in closet. I began checking his old fireman's uniforms. Old meaning 10 or 11 years old. And that is when I found the empty bottles. DOZENS of them! Since I had been in recovery at this point for 6+ years, I didn't even know what some of those liquors were. For instance, Zima came out after I sobered up. And until today, I have NEVER tasted a flavored Vodka. NEVER!

I lined the bottle up on along the bed and went back to work. Hurt, angry, confused, heartbroken, and so sad. What did I do? I joined in his madness and drinking along side him within 2 months. After all the preaching and crying and begging, my disease won out. So I drank for the next year, month and 18 days (to be exact), stopped drinking and divorced husband #2. Not because he MADE me drink, not because of drinking at all. But once you took away AA, and theee added alcohol, took the alcohol away, we had nothing left. All of our commons practices were now gone. Except the 14 month old, blue eyed, always smiling, light of my life. We had a son. So now I'm divorced TWICE, two boys aged 10 years apart, and scared out of my mind.

Then came my Tim. A biker. Long hair, bandanna, chains, boots, and tatoos on every part of his anatomy that showed, and some parts you'll never see! Everyone in my family, social circles, and even strangers thought I lost my f-ing mind! But I instantly fell in honest to God, true love, that first night we hung out together. It was not the first time I saw him, but I never quite acknowledged him. We were thrown together in situations like oil and water. He stayed on his side of the invisible line for his reasons, and I stayed on my side becasue...well...biker dudes scared the hell out of me.

And then one day we talked. And talked and talked and talked. We didn't officially start seeing each other till weeks later. But imagine my surprise when he recited what I was wearing the very first time he saw me in that first social scene? My heart was bursting, my mind was scrambled, and I was a goner...... He had me, right then and there, without question.

Now, our sex life started off with the usual fireworks you see when you first start sleeping with someone. And those fireworks can still be seen today, only too infrequently for me. After 7 years, I still want him. Always......

On the other hand, he is not the healthiest person. He has epilepsy (under complete control with meds since 2003), he has HepC, treated for over a year, remission and returned. His Dad was diagnosed with cancer December of 2006 and began an awful decline in October. So he does have his excuses mind you.

But I do get annoyed. Why is that? Am I normal? I want sex more than 4 times a month? He makes me feel like I'm a nymphomaniac. Just what I need....ANOTHER label right?

So I began some research about how often, single, married, over 40's engage in sex. And I AM NORMAL IN THAT DEPARTMENT. Gotta be thankful for small favors......

But I did come across this little diddy and thought I'd share it with you. Because maybe you will feel as I do. Most of your ailments, problems, illness and selfconfidence could be restored too!

Check this out!!!!

What are the scientific reasons for having sex?
By Dr Stephen Juan
Published Friday 6th October 2006 11:10 GMT

Sex helps boost the immune system.

According to Dr Carl Charnetski of the Department of Psychology at Wilkes University in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, people who reported one or two sexual "episodes" per week enjoyed higher levels of Immunoglobin A. This is an antibody that helps fight disease.

Sex increases longevity.

In one study cited by Dr Charnetski, men who had more orgasms over a 10 year period boosted their longevity compared with those who had fewer.
Sex helps ward off cancer. In another study cited by Dr Charnetski, men who had more ejaculations over a 35 year period had 33 per cent less prostate cancer compared to those with fewer ejaculations.

Sex results in a more youthful appearance.

According to a study by Dr David Weeks, a clinical neuropsychologist at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital in Scotland and co-author of Superyoung (1999), men and women who reported having sex an average of four times per week looked approximately 10 years younger than they really were.

Sex helps reduce stress.

Numerous studies show that it does this through lowering anxiety levels, boosting relaxation, and aiding sleeping.

Sex helps fight depression.

A study by Dr Gordon Gallup of the Department of Psychology at the State University of New York at Albany found that women who regularly engage in heterosexual sex in which they come in contact with semen were significantly less depressed than those women that did not. he causal relationship is unclear. Dr Gallup speculates that "possibly because when absorbed through the vagina, semen may have an effect on mood in women". However, Dr Gallup is quick to point out: "Regardless of the findings, this study does not advocate that people abstain from using condoms. Protecting oneself from an unwanted pregnancy or a sexually transmitted disease is far more important."

Sex helps coping with middle age.

This is the inference drawn from research by Dr GA Bachmann at the Robert Wood Johnson Medical School in New Brunswick, New Jersey and published first in 1995 in the International Journal of Fertility and Menopausal Studies and continuing in The Journal of Sexual Medicine in 2006.

Sex is good exercise.

Exercise helps circulation, lowers cholesterol, and releases helpful endorphins.

Sex helps in losing weight.

Well, at least a little. One burns approximately four to five calories per minute or perhaps 300 calories per hour during sex (depending upon how, shall we say, "vigorous" the sex is). About 7,000 to 8,000 excess calories must be burned to lose one kilogram of fat (3,500 to lose one pound). You do the calculations.

Stephen Juan, Ph.D. is an anthropologist at the University of Sydney.

A response to a readers comment:

2008-02-07T23:53:00.000-05:00

As I read bottlecappie’s last comment to me, I thought to myself, “She is so right!” I wasn’t this “bad” when we first met. Well, after considering her comment for a few more days (I looooove to dwell, as other addicts will attest to), I realized that she was correct in saying I seem worse now than when I first found her blog.

You see, I found bottlecappie one day while Googling “Suboxone”. I always Googled the word Suboxone. For the past few years, any “hits” on Google came from sites that were either drug forums or news articles for or against the drug. I did find a few blogs, but nothing worth staying on top of. It was usually from someone who was attempting to blog about their experiences with Sub’s or their addictions alone. But no real “meat and potato” type blogs. You know the kind…..where someone is writing from their heart, their soul, and try to relay their pain, anxieties, fears. The kind of people who share their triumphs as well as their blessings. The kind of blogger that you think you can trust.

Oh, I know that the internet is full of liars and cheats. I know that people can get lured into dysfunctional relationships, and can be conned out of their money and their marriages.

But when you find a poster who shares with their readers their true feelings, if you have anything at all in common with them, and you can relate, you begin trusting their writings much sooner than later. I mean, who would write about being an addict, or being on Suboxone, if they weren’t truly feeling or doing those things. Trust me, non-drug addicts have NO IDEA what Suboxone even is, unless they are dealing with a relationship with an addict who is on Sub’s or getting off of them.

A big plus was that she began blogging from the onset of treatment with SUBOXONE!! That was a big hook for me. But if you don’t believe me, see for yourself. Just head on over to bottlecappie’s blog “Diary of a Quitter” and see for yourself! http://bottlecappie.wordpress.com/feed/

Now, that being said, I can also pretty much assume that bottlecappie and I will never plan for a rendezvous, “just to meet face to face”. I don’t need to see her face to understand her feelings, pain, triumphs or fears. I know them. I live them……

But I began to think to myself, I probably was this depressed when I ventured onto her blog. But you see, she was very new to Suboxone. So I didn’t allow my true lunacy to show. Not because I wanted to “lure” her into my web of deceit. But because I didn’t want to sound like someone who tried to Suboxone, got off the pills, yet still dealt with depression. I wanted to give her the courage, and encouragement to keep going with her treatments. I wanted to be positive, uplifting and somehow convince her that Sub’s were not going to be her worst nightmare. I wanted her believe that she could/would get better…… In doing so, I couldn’t very well go and comment on her blog that I also recovered from pills with Sub’s and now I am just a depressed mess of a nutjob. I needed her to keep positive, to keep forging ahead with her treatments……

So to bottlecappie, I apologize if I was less honest with my feelings. But one thing is definitely true my cyber friend ~~~~ my life IS much better without the oxy’s and with the help of Sub’s. You should have met me before to see the difference! LMAO! My comments on oxy’s or trying to get off of them without Suboxone would have had you running for the hills, trust me at least with that much! ;0)

And without cappie and a chick named "D" that I'd rather not link you to, my life has been much much better, believe it or not. MY blogging and YOUR comments, along with others, keep me going. Sometimes I actually sit there and say, if I could just get to my laptop and blog this insanity, I know I'll feel much better. And I usually do.....

On a lighter note ladies, I'm going to try this again. Just see how much my "times viewed" goes up! Last time I did this labeling, my views rose at least a few hundred!! So, to the pervert Googler's out there, these are for you:

Should I bother?

2008-02-02T19:11:00.000-05:00

Ever since the fall, I have been suffering from what my doctor describes as “deep” depression. It has been so deep that I have not had one ounce of enthusiasm in anything I do. I hate waking up, therefore I sleep as much as possible. I hate having to shower, get dressed, comb my hair, brush my teeth or get dressed. I physically hurt even attempting to do the mundane, everyday, “normal” things that everyone must do in order to register as a productive human being. I have gained an enormous amount of weight this past year. I am 6ft tall and started down this spiral of destruction weighing in at about 145-155 pounds, depending on the day of the week, the tide, the moon phase, or whatever else effects my scale to tip between those numbers.

Today, I cannot even fathom getting on a scale. Truth be told, I am so terrified to weigh myself that I haven’t done so since sometime in 2006. Being tall, I usually can carry the extra pounds and hide them well. But because this weight gain has been more than I can even try and guess, I no longer fit in any of my clothing. None. Usually, when things get a little (or a lot) tight on me, I refuse to buy new things. I suffer through the denim digging into my waist and stomach until I do something about it.

But this year? Ugh! I have had to purchase new pants. Nothing worse than shopping and finding no pleasure in it….

I went from jean size 8/10 to a 14. And I squeeze my ass into a size 12 IF, and only IF I try not to breathe for the day I decide to wear them. My thighs now rub together, a little reminder of my bulge. My shirts and sweaters no longer lay flat, but have that tell-tale sign of flesh bulging beyond the waist.

If it wasn’t bad enough that I gained weight and felt like shit, I also decided that since I was no longer worthy of taking care of my body, I would continue on the path of destruction by barely wearing a stitch of make-up. The only attempt I would make would be to try and cover the VERY LARGE black streaks that some people refer to as “bags” under their eyes. My blackness was not bags. They were extremely DARK and THICK stripes that ran from the inside corner of my eye, right along the bottom of that “bag” and stopped around the middle of my cheek. And the inside corners of my eyes look as though I went 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. And lets not even get into the black/blue color that reflected off of my eyeglasses. Because as you can guess, I was no longer going to bother with contact lenses either. Being a natural red-head, my skin is almost translucent. Therefore, neither cover up, cover sticks, highlighters nor magic wands can get rid of these unsightly stains. And I tried “Googling” for a solution, but no one out in cyber space has a recommendation that has worked. So if you have any suggestions, do tell…. I even considered tattoos over the lines colored the same as my skin. Kidding…But seriously, the more I sleep the darker these stains seem to get.

Since my main diet consists of sugar-free Red Bull, cigarettes and crackers with melted cheese, it is any wonder I am even here today. Caffeines, nicotines and saltines. And not much else besides the occasional pizza we ordered from where my eldest son works. Thank goodness I have an understanding family that fends for themselves for the most part. My youngest, Ty, has had little more than fast-food, grilled cheese, burgers, pb&j, soup, canned foods and cereal this past year. And I am more than a little ashamed. I am so disgusted with my uncaring attitude. What can possibly make a mother feel like she is in so much pain that she cannot make a decent meal at least 3 times a week? Can depression be that greedy, that it robs me of my maternal responsibilities? My eldest son has stepped up somewhat, recognizing my earlier signs of the depression. But because this bout has been so severe, he was not only getting disgusted with me, but he was angry and scared with the obvious decline of my cleaning, cooking, washing clothes… Anything that took an ounce of physical movement was always put off until it was usually too late. And how many times did I vow that tomorrow would be different. I would get up and NOT drive Ty to school in my pajamas. I would cook an entire meal and we would all eat together, at a table, like humans. But those tomorrows never came really. Once in a blue moon I would push myself to do ONE of those things a week. But not often.

Which leads me to my point of this entry. Ty joined Cub Scouts last year, against my better judgement. My ex-mother-in-law is wonderful. She is in charge of the after-care program at Ty’s school, so he goes directly to her on Thursday’s and she takes him to scouts. I said no, that I wasn’t interested. Yep, didn’t care that my son was interested. More concerned about what demands this scouting thing would put on my napping on Thursdays. She felt that his interest in this activity outweighed my laziness and scoffing, so she asked if she could take charge of anything that a parent normally had to be called upon for. You know, those noisy and unorganized monthy Troop meetings. His den is small, only about 5 boys. But I told her that I would pay whatever the monetary fees were, but I wanted no part of any of the activities. What an a-hole she must think I am huh? But when your feelings and opinions of yourself are that low, you honestly don’t care what others think. Believe me, she could feel no less about my parenting abilities than I already do. Why is that? I have such a hard time grasping it.

And the sad part is, I always considered myself lazy, and just getting lazier and lazier with age. I didn’t recognize the fact that I got not one joyous feeling from doing anything productive. As I would be doing a must-do chore, I only looked forward to getting it done so that I could return to my bed and my laptop. The saddest part was that even those fun activities, such as going to the movies, or getting in the car to go get ice cream were looked upon with such dread. Not only did I not consider going down the shore a fun activity, I am sure I also made it “unfun” for everyone else too. I will just sit there, reading a book, and watching my Timex, praying for this fun to end.

Writing about this is actually making me sick. To think that I could be that cruel and lazy just kills me.

Anyhow, somehow I got talked into taking Ty to his Cub Scout obligation this morning. My poor ex-mil must have dreaded having to ask me to help out. I said yes, knowing I would have a resentment the entire time. The boys had to go to the 9/11 memorial that was built at a local park to do a winter clean up. That consisted of raking and bagging leaves, picking up garbage in the surrounding areas, and making the site somewhat inviting to others. So when Tim woke me this morning at 9am, I was in instant bitch mode. Until I went upstairs and woke Ty, who was none too eager about the whole thing anyway. So I poured him juice, threw some cereal in a bowl, got dressed, packed my car with rakes and gloves and headed out. And for the first time in at least 2 weeks, I noticed to sun. It was shining. And it was actually a beautiful day out there! So I made a decision to enjoy myself. And the funniest thing happened. I enjoyed myself. And I enjoyed my son today. We had a great time. And after we were done at the park, we went over to the doctors, so that she could look at a small, circular rash that has decided to spread. Excema. It was then that she informed me that he has a sinus infection. How did I NOT know that my son was sick? Am I that sick? Normally guilt would be the day breaker for me. I NORMALLY would have decided that I was just a shitty mother, and take Ty home so that I could lick my wounds and beat myself up in my usual position….lying down with my laptop on. But a miracle happened today. I decided that I could feel guilty and STILL go on with a productive day. So he and I went shopping, then McDonald’s (hey, I never expected to get better all at once now) and we came home and ate together, at the dining room TABLE!!! With Tim and eldest son and Ty and I. We haven’t done that in forever. And it felt so good.

But being on these meds, I was hoping that these days would come automatically. Why is it taking work for me to “act” normal? Shouldn’t I have longer bouts of feeling good? Because I still don’t feel good 80% of the time. I still want to hide. I still want to isolate. I still hate myself. I’m still a shitty Mom most of the time. I still hate getting out of bed. And the effort it takes me to “act” normal still hurts me, most of the time. But it is a day like today that makes me hopeful for more days like it. I’m not asking to win the lottery here. But I guess I am asking for a miracle just the same.

Should I call my doctor. I have been on the Cymbalta since Christmas. 60mg a day. Should I consider “upping” the dose? Is it not working at all and I need to try something different? And then after asking myself these questions, out of nowhere comes the question, “Should I even bother trying to get better? Maybe this is just supposed to be my life.”

Whew!

2008-02-01T23:44:00.000-05:00

It occured to me that a few of you ladies have "tagged" me. I even asked on someone's blog what it meant, and had some responses. But in all honesty, I still don't know what it means. So if you have "meme'd" me, please do not assume I am rude. Just realize that I am stumped.......

Apologies. And I promise I will read and research wtf you are all talking about! Soon....soon.....

Like a death, in so many ways.....

2008-01-30T01:48:00.000-05:00

Tim and I met in 2001. Actually, we didn't "meet" per se, but were traveling in the same social circles. BIG circles, with lots of people and tons of activities going on around us. I met his best friend first. A recovering heroin addict, Mike. Mike had been clean for a couple of years, and had the world at his feet. He was smart, semi-attractive (if you like a guy who's hair was so long it almost touched his waist). He had a personality that was kind, generous, and sincere. He was a no-nonsense kinda man. He always told you like it was, whether you wanted to hear it or not. And even if you didn't want to hear it, he always put it in a way that made it hard for you to bear a resentment against him. And he was never short on the humor. Always had something funny to say.....always. Even when delivering bad news, he always put a funny spin on it for you.

I use all of the above descriptions of Mike in the past tense, not because he died, but because he began to use again. And our hearts were broken. Immediately gone was his zest for life, his humor, his generosity and your love for being around him. We knew almost from the day he began using again. Almost anyway. My first clue was an evening he spent with Tim and I and my youngest son, Ty. Tyler was about 5 at the time and absolutely adored Mike. Upon hearing that Mike would be coming over, Ty's anticipation was almost contagious. He would immediately set up our living room for an evening of fun with Mike. Games, books, movies, and his decision on whether we should make popcorn or just put out potato chips.

One night, not unlike every other night he came over, as soon as Mike walked thru our door, he seemed almost angry. He was antsy, tense, talking a mile a minute, and complaining about everyone and everything is his life at that moment. Unusual for sure. But what definitely gave it away was his lack of patience regarding my son. He was blowing my son off, answering him in a huffed type of aggravation. He was getting angry if our son interrupted him. And of course, a child being a child, didn't read the signs too well. So he persisted on his attempts to have Mike come down on the floor to wrestle, play a game, watch a movie, etc. And as every attempt was shot down, he wasn't getting the hint. And as a 4 year old will sometimes do, his frustration at being ignored became apparent.... So the more Mike said no, the louder the requests seemed to get. Until my son was so confused and taken back that he began to cry. And instead of Mike trying to understand, he snapped. He yelled at my son. Actually Y-E-L-L-E-D!

So of course, Mama Bear's claws emerged. You see, I really never knew an active heroin addict. All the addicts I knew at the time were either clean, getting clean, or trying to get clean. And there is always humility present in the addict seeking or continuing their sobriety. Here, there was clearly no humility. There were no apologies. He left soon afterwards, leaving me and the boy quite confused. Until Tim clued me in. He knew Mike in his active addictions and recognized the signs and tried to explain it to me. Between the anger of the Mama Bear and the Baby Bear's obvious pain, I wasn't quite ready to accept that a man could go from being a dream come true playmate for a 4 year old to an angry son-of-a-bitch so quickly. There HAD to be more to it than just using, right? Wrong.

Sadly, we never saw our fun-loving Mike again. We have occasionally run into the S.O.B. Mike in the past 5 years. We even opened our hearts and home to him during his occasional half-assed attempts at getting clean again. But his clean time never amounted to anything more than putting a few days together, every few months or so.

I even vouched for him to my Suboxone doctor, hoping that might help. It didn't do anything more than give him a Rx which allowed him to use heroin and then comfortably withdraw until his next paycheck to buy more heroin. Vicious cycle, as the addict knows. I never used Suboxone to withdraw comfortably, just so that I could use oxy's later on in the week. It never even entered my mind to think that way. Not because I was more honest than Mike was. I guess I was just that desperate to stop using. And after so many attempts of going thru the withdrawals of the oxys, I don't think that I EVER fully withdrew from them. The pain always became too much for me to bear. So even if I was at day 3 of w/d, knowing it would only be another few days, I never quite got there. Until I was introduced to the Suboxone. And for as "the easy way out" as some might call it, it couldn't have been all that easy if I still have no desire to take oxy's til this day. Hopefully, I was just that sick. I know that makes sense to some of you.

The reason that I bring up Mike tonight is because it had occurred to me throughout Tim's fathers' viewings these past 2 days, that Mike never came to pay his respects. And I was saddened by all that the heroin has taken from him (and us) in the process of his active addiction. It has taken away his common sense, his morals, his ability to do the right thing in one of the darkest times of his best friends life......... Heroin has taken from us one of the most upstanding, moral, and supportive individuals that Tim has ever known. It has taken away his shoulder to lean on when things get tough. It has taken away from him the Mike we know is in there....somewhere. It has taken away not only my son's playmate, but also a trust that only an innocent child could have. From that night almost 5 years ago, until this very day, Ty has NEVER again asked for Mike. Because Mike scared him that much. I don't think it was so much that Mike yelled at him. Believe me, my son has been yelled at before that night, and many times afterwards. I think his fear comes from the lack of understanding how someone who was ALWAYS a friend could possible turn on him. I think the sudden switch of Good Mike to Using Mike was just too much for his little mind to comprehend. Sad isn't it? And if Ty felt so traumatized by that one incident, just imagine how children of active heroin users feel every day of their lives. The fear of the unknown. Never quite sure which "Mom" or "Dad" they will find when they walk thru that door from school. Imagine the fear of waking up in a bed, in a house where they are supposed to feel loved, safe and secure. But they have no idea what "Mom" or "Dad" will be at the breakfast table that particular morning....... Heartbreaking.

Sitting there tonight, the last night for family and friends to pay their respects to Tim's Dad, I was almost praying to God that Mike would show up, using or not using. I almost didn't care if he walked in, slurring his words, nodding in a chair, not caring whether anyone saw the fresh track marks. I almost didn't care if it was "Good Mike" or "Using Mike". I just wanted him there, for Tim, at any price. Until I realized that perhaps Mike had some morals left after all. I wondered if perhaps Mike knew that showing up, in a drug induced haze, would only have left Tim feeling somehow worse than he was already feeling. And maybe Mike did have some common sense left. And maybe Mike cared that much.

So as I began to pray for God's will, not mine, be done in came my the answer to my prayers. No, it was not a clean and sober Mike. No, it was not a slurring, nodding idiot, muttering useless regrets. But in walked the other men in Tim and Mike's circle of old friends. Friends from as far as 2 states away, coming to pay their respects. They came for Tim. I was so happy to see those guys walk in, you would have thought they were all there to see me. And as I watched them all take turns hugging the love of my life, I overheard something really special. As each one hugged Tim, they each told him that they learned of his father's death from Mike. He called each and every one of them to let them know that his best friend was in pain. And he had the decency to send them to him, at one of his darkest times. So although his addiction did not allow him to be there, his love for Tim allowed him to do the next best thing. He sent all the sobriety he could find. He sent "the boys".

And for the first time in almost 5 years, I thought of Mike with a smile. And my hope for him was renewed...............

Shattered Hearts For Peace So Deserved.......

2008-01-26T15:24:00.000-05:00

God saw you were getting tired
And a cure was not to be..........

So he put his armsaround you
And whispered, "Come to me".

With tearful eyes we watched you,
And saw you pass away............

Although we loved you dearly,
We could not make you stay.

A golden heart stopped beating~
Hard working hands at rest...........

God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best.

"Bud" Richards

January 18th, 1943 - January 25th, 2008

Rest In The Peace You So Deserve....

We are nearing the end....

2008-01-24T15:09:00.000-05:00

Tim's Dad has reached the final hours/days of his journey here with us. It is such a heartbreaking scene, watching someone you love go through this. He is trying so hard to be strong for his Mom, keeping himself busy taking care of his Dad. I am at a loss of what to do for him. So I told him just now, "Know that I am here, for whatever you need. Do not hesitate to call upon me for physical, emotional, or spiritual support. I have been exactly where you are. It is not easy, I know." What else can I really do or say to him right now? I told him to go and stay with his parents, for these final moments. His Mom is not a strong person, neither physically or emotionally. She is helpless, in every sense of the word. And she needs someone. Now.

I know that he is afraid of my reaction to his leaving. I have not been the most supportive of his Mother's needs up until now. Not because I am heartless, but because I knew that her needs were purely made up of her sitting there, thinking and thinking and thinking. I knew that his Dad had a ways to go, and that her needs would only become greater. And her requests for help were probably based out of fear rather than true need. I knew then, as I admit today, that I was somewhat irritated with her throughout this entire process.

So all I can say is "I am here". Do you think I should say more?

I have no real friends......

2008-01-19T17:46:00.001-05:00

I'm so sad today, upon the realization that I have no friends...... I have a few people I talk to every now and then. And one that comes over once in a while with her case of beer or Twisted Teas. We hang out and talk all night. But nothing really deep, just superficial surface stuff. We work together, so conversation usually revolves around work people or our significant others. They were boyhood/teenage/actively using friends their whole lives.

But Tim spends the majority of his time at his parents these days. His Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer in December of 2006. Bless his soul, he's still with us. But he has reached the end of his journey here...... They stopped all treatments this past November.

Okay, here comes the really selfish part now........ the part of myself I H-A-T-E. I am very resentful of all the time he spends there. NOT becuz of his Dad. His Dad spends most of his time in a Scotch and cigarette stupor. Yep, still drinking and smoking 3 packs a day. Hardcore.

It's his helpless, manipulative, needy, clingy mother that is driving me insane.

For instance, here are a few examples of why he jumps up and runs over there:

1. The garbage cans were still on the curb.

The garbage cans have been on the curb for three days now. But she needs Tim right NOW to come and drag them 10 feet to the side of the house.

PS: No, she is NOT handicapped.

2. She needs the desk moved, "when you have a minute".

The fucking desk has been in that spot for 40 years. And nothing ever takes a MINUTE when he goes there.

3. She needs a curtain rod hung.

THAT window has NEVER had a curtain on it.

Okay, lame examples of why she calls him over. But here are my examples of what flips me out.

Tim tells me, as he's huffing and puffing over the cell telephone, that he's cleaning. Now trust me, the house has NEVER been cleaned in the 8 years we have been together.

Tim calls to let me know he'll be home soon, however, he still has a load of clothes in the dryer that he needs to wait for so he can fold them. (NOT HIS CLOTHES, MIND YOU)

He spent two days over a weekend raking leaves. Why? Because his mother went out a purchased one of those gi-normous snow-globes that people inflate and display proudly on their front lawns.

Question: Why would someone purchase something when they themselves CANNOT put it up? Knowing that their spouse cannot do it, because he's dying in the bedroom? Oh, btw, the leaves have never been raked, grass has never been cut, E-V-E-R!

She called one Sunday to let Tim know that she didn't go see his Dad that day in the hospital becuz there was no one to "shovel" her out. If she had bothered to get up and look out the window, the 2 inches of snow that fell overnight melted by noon.

So today, he left at around noon and returned at 5:00. I was just getting out of the shower. We started talking about nothing and then he informs me that he has to go back to his parents "later on" becuz his father has been sleeping all day and his mother is nervous. Yeah, she's nervous. Ya know why? Because Tim was there today and his father was asleep the entire time. (Lord knows what he was doing there then. Perhaps she needs a garage built?) So you see, since Tim is the one who does EVERYTHING for his father, meds, bathroom, bathing, etc. she is nervous because she will have to GET UP AND HELP HIS FATHER BY HERSELF TONIGHT!!!!

So I was thinking, hmmmmm, who can I call to go out with. There isn't anyone, really. So I'm having myself a good 'ol fashioned pity party. Any cyber friends wanna join me?

I am just so fucking pissed right now, I don't even know where I'm going with this. I'm sorry.

I'll be back later when my head stops spinning..............

Just Like A Yo-Yo

2008-01-11T19:31:00.000-05:00

I'm kinda feelin' like a yo-yo......up and down, up and down, up and down......

Not so much my emotions, but rather my energy levels are all over the place. Does anyone else ever get that from meds? One minute I'm ready to conquer the world and the next minute I'm trying like hell to keep my eyelids open as I'm driving home from work. Last night I fell asleep at 7pm and didn't really awake until 7am this morning. Oh, I did wake long enough to remember that I had a nine-year-old upstairs just praying I would forget he needed to go to sleep. Thank God I startled up at 9pm and pried his fingers off the Wii controller long enough to brush his teeth and tuck him into bed. But to be honest, he could have bolted up, turned on the Wii and invited his classmates over after I returned to my bedroom. That's how hard I fell back into bed.

I'm hoping it is just my body getting used to the meds. Cuz one thing I do NOT need is another defective part to my already fucked up self. I'm kinda scared, kinda edgy and praying like hell that I'm going to be okay......whaddaya think?

Hugs To You..........

2008-01-05T22:03:00.000-05:00

You guys (girls only, really) are just the best! Your comments, emails and worrying gave me the warm fuzzies all over! Thank you sooooo much! I feel loved, if only cyber-ly!

I have been doing so well, it’s scary…… Meds must have kicked in somewhat I guess, cuz I did a whole lot of stuff I have been avoiding. I have only scraped the surface of course, but its progress, right? I still had a hard time getting motivated, and became paralyzed upon trying to complete certain tasks…..but I still succeeded somewhat in completing some!

By being so busy and returning to work from lay-off, I was extremely exhausted. Funny thing is I had no desire to nap when I got home from work. Just felt blah, and lazy. But I trudged onward and did a few things around my house too! Okay, so the laundry hasn’t been touched since November! Gimme some slack, will ya? Tim has been a Godsend and the perfect laundry mistress. He just does the necessities, but it has helped me a great deal.

Don’t get me wrong, I attempted to do it several times over the past 3 days, But every time I started to walk into the laundry room my heart would begin beating really fast and the walls started to close in. I hate when that happens……..

I have no kids this weekend, so I even worked today for some OT. Now I’m waiting for my girlfriend to come over. We’re just gonna hang and have some good ‘ole fashioned girl talk.

In AA they talk about walking into the woods for miles and miles. Just like drinking for years and years. Just because you have decided to quit drinking (coming out of the woods) doesn’t mean you’ll be out of the woods right away. It took you miles (years) to get where you are, so it will take time to get back out of those woods. The point is that I have decided to TURN AROUND and leave the woods. It will take time, I know. But I am praying that I have turned around and started heading out of that fucking forest! One step at a time I guess. God I hate to excersise!

And by the way, because of all the blogs I have read (most listed right over there)-------->
I realized something truly amazing this past month. I have never been alone in my struggles. I just didn’t know you were out there! Seriously, I really never “shared” with anyone my fears and anxieties because when I tried to, people could never identify with those feelings. They just looked at me like I was nuts. And maybe I am, but if so, that’s okay too. Because I know that I have plenty of company. An entire tree full of nuts, if you will…..LOL!

Side Note: In the beginning of this post I said guys (meaning girls) which is really saying that it is only women that respond to me. What words can I post to assure some male readers? Oh! Wait …… I know! Sex, pussy, suck, fuck, lesbian, twosome, threesome, foursome…… kidding. Don’t need any male company. I live with an entire house FULL of men! I need you ladies, really I do!

((((Hugs to every one of you!))))

My Favorite Print and My Favorite Poem.........

2008-01-02T09:59:00.000-05:00

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security,

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,

With the grace of a woman,
Not the grief of a child

And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After awhile you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers
And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong...
And you really do have worth,

And you learn and learn...
With every good bye you learn.

by ~~Veronica Shoffstall~~

The Road To Suboxone....Part III

2008-01-01T18:37:00.000-05:00

So after making an appointment with what seemed like a money hungry doctor, I searched the internet and found about 5 more doctors in NJ that were licensed to prescribe Suboxone. In 2003 the doctor’s who were trained and licensed to prescribe this “new” wonder drug were extremely scarce. And you know what that meant? That these far and few between doctors were basically allowed to charge whatever consultation fee, follow-up fee, and could require you to see them more than was really necessary. After all, they had no competition…….

So I began dialing the doctors listed on the NAABT.ORG website and left message on a few machines. I was so afraid to stop dialing that phone. Afraid that I might get a case of the “fuck-its” and just continue on with my addiction. But something told me that although it was LATE on a Friday night, if I just kept dialing (outside NJ as well), I might have a chance of recovery. I may actually want recovery more than I wanted to use! What a revelation that is for me today! I never thought of my desperation that night, so many years ago, until now.

About 11:00 that same night, my telephone rang. NEVER thinking that a doctor would be calling me back, I answered it.

It was one of the doctors from the NAABT.ORG website listing. He introduced himself and asked me to give him my addiction history. “From the beginning?” I asked. “Of course” he replied. “But it goes back 4 years, and I would have to take you thru a divorce, a c-section, and every other excuse I could come up with to justify my insanity”. He chuckled for a second, and assured me that he wanted to hear my version of my addiction. So I talked for an hour. And between my sobs, gasps, chokes and tears, I told him my story.

All I can remember after that non-abbreviated version of my life story was the words he spoke next. “SuboxoneMom, you are NOT alone. There are far more young to middle aged women that have your disease than you can even imagine. There are so many mothers, wives, teachers, lawyers and even nurses in your exact situation. Women who became addicted, not by choice, but simply by happening upon opiates that have battled withdrawals and any method they could think of to get off of them. And I want to help you.”

He told me to continue my oxycontin use for the time being. He wanted to be sure that I did not suffer unnecessarily!!! We made an appointment for the following Wednesday and we said our goodnights. He never mentioned his fees, and never reminded me to bring my checkbook to the appointment. I had to ask him about the financial aspect of treatment. He gave me his initial consultation fee of $300 and told me not to worry about the rest for now. He wanted to meet with me first, to see if he would consider me as a candidate for the Suboxone. I didn’t realize there was going to be a test for God’s sake!

And so for the next 5 days I went on an oxy binge to end all binges. I was so relieved to know that my “cure” was just right around the corner. PLUS (BIG PLUS), the doctor TOLD me to continue to use!!!

But, as with all good things that must come to an end, Wednesday came much too soon. I was afraid to go to the appointment. So afraid to face the day when I knew I would no longer have oxy in my life. It was like knowing you were going to the vet to have your family pet destroyed. Giving up something I loved so dearly…….no matter how much it was destroying my life. So I brought back up.

Seasonal

2007-12-31T13:33:00.000-05:00

I work in an industry that is considered "seasonal" which means I get laid off anytime between Thanksgiving and March 1st. I can collect unemployment in the meantime. But as I receive the paperwork to fill out, every year I become overwhelmed and end up filling it out late/or not at all...... So my finances suffer.

This year layoff began very late, mid December. My regular paychecks got me thru the holiday gift buying stage..... So I am sitting here, staring at my unemployment paperwork and actually dreading having to fill it out. WHY? Why can't I look at my checkbook and bills and just pay the friggin' bills? This is just too much for me..... I have the money to pay the bills, I have the checks, I have the envelopes and the stamps. The mailbox is right outside my front door. So wtf is my problem? Laziness? Depression? Both? Neither?

As I began to think about filling out my paperwork, my cell rang. Not one to jump for the phone these days, I let it ring..... Then after it stops ringing I have just enough nerve to check and see who I was avoiding. It was work.... Can I start back again THIS Wednesday? UGH! Don't they understand that I need at least another week or two in this bed, with my laptop, greasy hair and every excuse in the world NOT to rejoin the human race. I don't want to go to work! And ya know why? Because I know that it is the best thing for me. Although when I return home from my job I put on my sweats, take out the contact lenses, scrape off the makeup and hop right back into my usual position in bed, I do get something out of going to work. I get to feel productive. I socialize, I prioritize, I think, I smile, I am a little bit of the old me. Why can't it continue that way at home? Why can't I pretend to be human at home? Why do I hide when I get here?

Anyway, I told work I'll let them know later. And no, I didn't call them. I texted my boss. I'm not brave enough to use the phone yet. It is just so sick, I am just so sick......

2007-12-31T05:47:00.001-05:00

Just A Glimpse

2007-12-29T14:57:00.000-05:00

I started my new meds on Wednesday, and so far, no difference. I know, I know, it takes time.... But I really feel so worthless.

I have decided to accompany Tim to his parents this afternoon. I have been avoiding going outside as though the grim reaper is awaiting my departure from this house. Since his parents only live a few miles from us, I figured I would be close enough in case my anxiety kicks in.

So as I write this post, delaying our journey, he is pacing in the other room. He knows full well that it takes every bit of my energy just to decide to go out, let alone actually GO out. But he is being wonderful (as usual). He is the most patient man, and most supportive of these insanities.

I have suffered from depression from as long as I can remember. I began meds in 1995 when my Mom was in the final stages of her battle with cancer. I had resisted meds up until that point, but at the insistence of my therapist (who was sure I would not make it thru her death without something) I began Zoloft.

So that is what I have been on (and off of) for the past 11 years. Perhaps in the beginning of the medication I felt some small difference. But over the years and the increasing of dosages never seemed to do what I thought it should. I still got stuck in these indoor, bed confined, foggy ruts. With always that light though. Always the knowledge of it getting better eventually. But this time, its so different. I'm stuck. I know where I am with all of it, I know what I should do, yet I cannot seem to do anything about it. Kinda like paralyzed. Wanting to walk, knowing how to walk, and feeling the sensation in my legs, yet not being able to get up. Does that make sense to anyone besides myself?

Because when I try to explain this to "normal" people, they just tell me to "PUSH" myself. "SHAKE IT OFF". Or else I get the 'ol "And what do you have to be depressed about?". God, I HATE THAT!!!!

Well I have held Tim off long enough. Wish me luck as venture into the smallest glimpse of sunlight I see.

2007-12-26T08:37:00.000-05:00

Well, its over.....Santa tiptoed right past me....again. I guess this "severe depression" is a true diagnosis because I haven't been out of bed since yesterday morning. I wouldn't have ventured out of bed then either, but my poor 8 year old was so excited and anxious to open his gifts that I didn't have to black heart to tell him to go ahead and open them without me. But I wanted to. So as paralyzed as I feel most of the time, I really can overcome it for a good reason.

The guilt I feel is enormous today. I did not go with my wonderful man to his parents house yesterday to celebrate the holiday. He knew better than to even ask me. He saw the absence in my eyes. That blank look I must have when I am not doing well.

I have finally filled my rx for the depression, despite my reluctance in taking this drug. Even though I specifically told NOT to research its effects on the net, I couldn't help myself. And of course I read every negative thing ever written about this drug and decided it wasn't worth the risk. Anything that has the possibility of helping me, I resist full-force. Why is it that I always look for an excuse NOT to get better?

Well, after the annual opening of gifts, doing the right amount of ooohing and aaahing over the little guy's gifts, I set myself up in bed, cigarettes, lighter, RedBull, and my laptop. And here I have been ever since......

I awoke at 5am, texted my man, and thought about the past few days. The self-loathing, guilt, shame and utter disgust with myself found me opening that brandy-new Rx in my purse and finally swallowing my first dose of what I hope to God will help me break free from this resistance of life I have.......

But I can't help asking, is this truly depression? Or is it a diagnosis my doctor gave me and I was just so relieved to know that I am only lazy and disconnected from life because I am ill? Is it just an excuse so that I can go on feeling this way and just put a name on it?

Just rambling.......and scrambling.

The Road To Suboxone....Part II

2007-12-22T04:25:00.000-05:00

The beginning of the end.....

I suspect, for the most part, anyone who were to find this blog would have been searching the internet for “SUBOXONE” because it seems to be the latest fix for us addicts…

I began my Suboxone treatment in April of 2003. After a four-year love affair with percocets and oxycontin, I finally reached my bottom… Although the actual “love” had ended quite some time ago, the affair had continued. Not only had I succeeded in wiping out a quite substantial bank account, by my addiction also took away my values, morals and especially my freedom. I no longer had the choice of whether to use or not, it had become my prison. Besides all the lying I was doing, I was also ransacking anyone’s medicine cabinet and taking money from others without their knowledge, I also became too good at justifying any of my unconscionable behavior. I was no longer my parents daughter or my children’s mother. I was a junkie without question.

I cannot even count how many times in that 4-year period when I tried to quit the pills. Whether cold turkey taking the “weaning” route, it was never to be where I could completely detox. Even thru the days of screaming in pain, puking my guts out, crying out to God and sleepless nights, I would never reach the point where I could function normally. So even after I had convinced myself that I could make it, I never got a clear picture of that light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, I never even saw the slightest ray of hope. So sometimes after as much as 4 days of detoxing, I would promptly return to my pills. After all, I could no long “not function”….I was a mother for God’s sake! I had to use in order to mother my children. See? The insanity is much clearer today. The viscous cycle.

No one, and truly mean no one, knew of my pill habit. Neither my closest friend, the love of my life, my father, nor my kids had ever suspected a thing. I guess they just chalked my mood swings and much erratic behavior up to emotional instability. Which was fine by me. Just as long as no one knew I was using drugs, it was okay that I would lay in bed for days at a time when there was only a few oxys left in the bottom of that bottle. I thought it was fine that they walked on egg shells, thinking that I was just emotionally insane. Just as long as no one knew……..

But then came a day when I could no longer take the pain, emotionally I mean. I had plenty of pills to last me thru the next few days. So why it was that particular day that I reached out for help I could only contribute to a divine intervention.

I began making phone calls from the Yellow Pages. I called addiction hot-lines, rehabs, AA, NA, and anyone else I could think of that would tell me that there was a cure for this. I didn’t want to go thru withdrawals again. I could not possibly sign myself into any type of “in patient” rehab/program. After all, I was sure that someone would be knocking on the door any day now to present me with my “MOTHER OF THE YEAR” award. I had every excuse in the world NOT to quit. And anyone who was listening to me on the other end of that phone, who knew anything about addicts, was sure to be saying to themselves, “This girl just isn’t ready”……..

But I proceeded to dial and dial and dial. And finally, I spoke to a woman who mentioned, Buprenorphine. She didn’t know many details about this latest drug, but she gave me the telephone number of a doctor in my area that may be able to answer them. She didn’t know about the website www.naabt.org which would have helped me tremendously at the time.

When I called this doctor, it was the doctor himself who answered the phone. I thought that was a bit strange. But hey, who was I to question anyone? After listening to his explanation of fees (which he immediately spouted off to me), he then pressed me for an appointment date and time. As I slowly regained my composure from the shock of his intial fees and the subsequent fees afterwards, I began to ask him questions about Suboxone. He told me that he would answer all of my questions at my first appointment. So I made the appointment, feeling very uneasy with the entire conversation. It had nothing to do with backing out of treatment. No siree, I was ready. It was interest in my financial commitment to him, and his pressing for my first appointment that had me very leery. Why couldn’t he answer at least some of my questions without that intial $400 in his pocket? Hmmmm……

The Road To Suboxone....Part I

2007-12-18T05:18:00.000-05:00

I have been in 12-step recovery programs for as far back as I can remember. That may have something to do with the black-outs I experienced before the meetings…..

I am, what some call, “A duel addicted alcoholic”. I just find myself addicted to most things that start off feeling/tasting good. And the end result is always the same. Insanity from the latest addiction…

When will I learn? (Like a man), if he/it seems to be too good to be true, it usually IS too good to be true. Yet I still find myself searching…..for the simplest escape route, fastest exit and easier and softer way to live this life of mine.

I found AA at the ripe old age of 29, on August 29th, 1992. Married for 2 years to a “home-town” boy, and trying to mother a 3 year old with a hangover on more days than not.

Although alcoholics have different episodes and dramas in their “alco-log”, we are all bound by the same feelings of one or more of the following:

· Feeling like a square peg in a round hole, never quite fitting in anywhere.
· Surrounded by friends/family, yet always feeling so alone.
· Being the life of the party, only having to rely on the memories of
others because our memories were never “quite” lucid.
· Need to shut our phones off and close all shades/blinds for fear of the outside world.
· Adult children of one or more alcoholics.
· As we are taking our first sip, chug or swig, promising not to blackout…..

only to wake up the following day somewhere we cannot recognize…..

*Please feel free to add/edit the above attempt to explain the life and feelings of at least this before recovery*

So after 7 years in recovery, one divorce behind me, and a second marriage approaching quickly, I decided I no longer needed AA. My life was so perfect at this point, there was no way I could be an alcoholic.

So after giving birth to my second child (10 years after having my first), I once again jumped back on that road to nowhere, the long twisting spiral of my alcoholism. I stayed out there, drinking, and seeming to think I had it all together, for about a year. Until I woke up 2000 miles away, in a hotel, with my 2 children. No memory of how I got there, or why I ended in up in Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. at all!
(*note – til this day, I still do not know)

So back into AA I jumped, with both feet. Only it was different the second time around. I no longer had that “hunger” for sobriety. That thirst for knowledge and living sober I had 8 years prior to this point……

But you see, there was a reason for not “wanting” it bad enough….. Honesty.

Although I had stopped drinking, I was still taking these wonderful prescription drugs my doctor had given me. Believe it or not, my obgyn was still prescribing percocet for a c-section I had a year earlier!! Wasn’t that awesome? I was getting a quantity of 120 every 2 weeks for pain from the stitches/staples that I could no longer remember having.

So when that oh! So wonderful doctor left that practice, she forgot to leave me a forwarding addy!! So, like the dope I became, I made an appointment with one of the other doc’s in the same practice. Needless to say, he nearly fell off his chair when I told him why I was there. “I just need my usual script, doc. And I’ll be on my way.”

I left without an Rx, but the insanity was instantaneous! Did I think I could be addicted? I could not have thought about it, because I had no reason to question it. That’s just being honest. As long as I was being a productive human being, not drinking and continuing to take my percocet, I did not even consider the addiction. Why would I? I was getting them legally, right? And they were being paid for by my drug insurance company.
Life was good.

Until that day…when that scumbag doctor decided to cut me off! What was he thinking? Taking me off percocets when my other doctor seemed to know I needed them.

That day began my 4 year battle of opiate addiction. This addiction would take me to the bluest of skies and my happiest of times. But in between those clear and vivid memories of my opiate infused mind came the darkest of days and hottest of hells I would ever know…..Because those in between times came quicker and closer together. Those were the days of stealing, lying, cheating, all for my next pill. And within those days came screams of pain from the withdrawal that I hope to never feel again. My addiction to percocet graduated to good ‘ol oxycontin……quickly. Because oxy’s were just easier to get from the streets.

This journal I am writing is for my own benefit. It is to help my timeline my addictions and the eventual reason I am writing today. Depression. Major Depression. And my willingness, once again, to become teachable. I want to be “cured”. I want to want to live again. Really I do. But with the diagnosis I received today, along with the guilt and fear, came relief. A relief that perhaps I am not a lost cause….. Because today, I am more scared of this “depression” thing than I have ever been afraid of anything. Fearful and hopeful. Can that be?

I am trying so hard to believe.....