No longer are my thoughts based on or around methadone. My worries do not belong to the realm of opiates any longer. My life is free of restrictions placed by physical limitations. I have blossomed into a beautiful new person, with the world at my finger tips and love in my heart stretching further than I ever thought possible.
My desire to help others, to love others, to be there and guide others through hard times has been multiplied infinitely, and I feel good only when I am uplifting another. My own joy was my focus for far too many years, and it seems irrelevant at times now. What is good if only I feel it? Good must be universal, there must be a rhythm and flow to life.
Options are boundless. My life has opened the way an infant’s eyes do. Everything is fresh and new, and I am uncertain of approach techniques, yet I try, and when I do, I conquer.
The world could have spun past the sun a million times in these 3 months, for it feels like it has been so long since methadone ruled my life. I shake my head now at the escape that not many endure, for it wasn’t as bad in severity as any time being sick from heroin, though the symptoms did persist and exhaust me to every end.
I still, however, feel tired very often. Though, it could be from working and going to school, I feel as if another my age might have different strength at this. It’s taken me a bit to grasp what my body has gone through, and it will take a while yet until I am fully “recovered”.
What does it feel like to be completely off of methadone? How does it feel to be liberated from a life of hell, a life I was unsure I’d be able to escape? Where does this path I’m now on lead me? Why did it take me so long to find my way?
There are an infinite amount of questions piling up in my mind. Question after question, very few have answers. Yet. The answers I do have, I still question. How can I now be so sure? But I am. Something tells me I am doing what I was meant to do, that I am on the correct path. It must be the right way if I am not stumbling constantly anymore.
It is an incredible feeling to not have to wonder why I am still trekking down the wrong path. To know that I’ve left that in the past, that the past no longer has any pull on me. I look at my (old) friends and feel pity. Fucking pity.
But I can’t stay just to let myself get pulled in that direction again. As much as I’d like to offer them a hand; for one I know they wouldn’t take it, and secondly, they would most likely take advantage and I would never escape the hell we created for ourselves. Caring about anything except yourself is an addict behavior, and here I am concerning myself with others…
33 days clean from methadone. I began college 2 weeks ago, my new job started the same time. Everything is falling together, and I’d say without much effort, except I did persist and make the things happen that are now in place. Realizing how impossibly easy this all was, I shake my head at the years I wasted.
Nearly 3 million sober heartbeats, and the number will only grow.
Today I go in to my new job to finish my new-hire paperwork, I finally got a steady cook job in a nice bakery/deli. This time next week I will be in class, tomorrow is my orientation where I receive my student ID and class schedule information. I can’t even imagine where I’ll be in a year, and 5 years down the road seems a journey!
For the first time in weeks I did not sweat through my sheets last night, I did not wake up multiple times for no reason. I feel the end nearing and damn, it nearly brings tears to my eyes—emotions are back—to think about the shit I went through. Every single thing I went through taught me skills I can relate to everyday tasks and activities, though the way I learned them is different than most, not only were they learned but engraved into my actions. I am my experiences, I am my pain, and I am my happiness.
I have joined a meditation group and am starting to go out into public more (without feeling self-conscious that my past is seen in my face.) Spending time with my friends has more meaning and I can tell the exchanges happening are more concrete, more real, more me. I can actually see a difference in my energy, not just physical but emotional and spiritual, as well.
I am coming to life before my own eyes.
The past few days have been harrowing.
I feel used up, drained, motionless. How is it that nearly 2 weeks sober and I am feeling as shitty as I was at day 5? Except, the pain has now traveled inside of me. Wrapping itself like vines inside each of my limbs, tightening until I can no longer move. Quicksand bound, the detox continues.
I have not yet found the light at the end of the tunnel. Chills run through my body as lava runs through our Earth, erupting feverishly into fits of hysteria coursing through my veins. Violently shaking, unable to control my emotions, they come in paroxysms enveloping my mind.
And still, I feel better off of methadone than on.
/ɪnˈsɒmniə/ Show Spelled[in-som-nee-uh] Show IPA
inability to obtain sufficient sleep, especially when chronic; difficulty in falling or staying asleep; sleeplessness.
I can’t tell if I’m feeling better or not. Some days I wake up fine—not great—and some days I wake up in a cold sweat, covered in negativity. My brain won’t function correctly on those days and I feel as if my body and mind were disconnected. Despair and sorrow overtake me and they’re as hard to kick as a dope habit.
Sneezing in 3s
Lack Of Energy
Restless Nights (unless I do not sleep well for 2 nights, on the 3rd night I’m out)
It has taken me this long to make this entry. My last day of taking methadone was on Monday the 22nd. That night proved nearly impossible to sleep as I woke up at 2:30am to my inconsiderate roommate coughing after taking a hit off her bong. Needless to say, I wasn’t back asleep until 4:30-5:00am and was back up at 7:00am.
Sweating– Day & Night
Restless Legs, Arms, and Body
Near Nausea/Stomach Aches–I have yet to actually vomit, I just had a wizzie pulled and am avoiding it at all costs.
It’s been a long time since I slept through a night, even longer since I didn’t wake up drenched in sweat. I have been sleeping with a shirt/rag next to me so that when I wake up I can towel myself off and fall back asleep—as quickly as possible. It is the absolute most uncomfortable feeling, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.
After weeks, if not months, of contemplating whether or not I should leave the clinic early, I finally decided it was time. When I received my doses of 9mg last week, I cut them in half and started dosing myself 4mg daily. This week is 2mg, and I’ll have left over methadone(what??) in case I need 1mg for the next week or so after.
As I left the clinic yesterday, I truly felt I would never be back. It is in the middle of the most drug-infested neighborhood of the city, a place filled with so-called “friends”, the place I nearly destroyed myself. Amazing the place I brought myself back together was in the center of all the destruction.
Waiting in line I ran into my old dealers, a couple, and told them that I was done dosing. Most people would think they would be upset, angry, selfishly try to get me to buy dope “in case” I needed to be well again. She hugged me, told me how happy she is for me, and for me to never call her again. I replied, “you won’t be hearing from me.” She was a good dealer, as she was also a friend, but in the end, I know it was never meant to be more.
I don’t have much time for this entry, but it’s a big day.
Today I get “weekly take-homes” from the clinic. After spending 4.5 years there I no longer have to see it everyday.
I will also be at 11mg. 11mg of methadone, is nothing!
Just over a month left!!