Never Getting Well

I screwed up a couple of times. The last one being last night. I really didn't need a fix, I just wanted to sleep. Sleep doesn't come easy for me. I lay awake at night by the hour with the perfumed candle burning brightly. The candle doesn't bother me, nor does the light from it keep me awake. I usually wake up from bad dreams.

Using, to me, is my way of life. There is no way I can get through this without some form of help. Being on insulin now doesn't help because there are hypos all around.

I felt pretty good when I wasn't using. I was happy. True happiness was a rarity.

I'm happy to say that Dennis didn't fall from grace with me. It was just me. Just my own little problems. Just my own little issues that seem to never be fixed.

Pray for me. I want to kick this. I want to get well. I don't want to be an addict forever. I don't want to struggle with this forever. I want to feel happy all the time, not depressed and vulnerable. Not afraid and weak.

Drugs scare me. Coming off drugs scares me even more. Withdrawal scares me. Maybe some day I won't be so afraid.

I screwed up a couple of times. The last one being last night. I really didn't need a fix, I just wanted to sleep. Sleep doesn't come easy for me. I lay awake at night by the hour with the perfumed candle burning brightly. The candle doesn't bother me, nor does the light from it keep me awake. I usually wake up from bad dreams.

Using, to me, is my way of life. There is no way I can get through this without some form of help. Being on insulin now doesn't help because there are hypos all around.

I felt pretty good when I wasn't using. I was happy. True happiness was a rarity.

I'm happy to say that Dennis didn't fall from grace with me. It was just me. Just my own little problems. Just my own little issues that seem to never be fixed.

Pray for me. I want to kick this. I want to get well. I don't want to be an addict forever. I don't want to struggle with this forever. I want to feel happy all the time, not depressed and vulnerable. Not afraid and weak.

Drugs scare me. Coming off drugs scares me even more. Withdrawal scares me. Maybe some day I won't be so afraid.

Resentment

Fifteen days ago, I fell from grace.

I walked out of my home to see a family member at a show, and ended up shooting up, not once, but twice. I was pissed at myself for that. I could only think of all the things I had lost by making that mistake. My memory was blotchy. I couldn't remember things normally, and I had a few flash memories of said male family member on top of me.

But that couldn't happen, right?

If it did, it's the first time heroin took my conscious mind with it.

Or maybe it was something more than the herion. Maybe my own mind thought that the memory was too painful to keep, and forced me to forget. Fuck'd if I know.

It can't be heroin.

My mind went blank on the Sky Ride at the fair. I was a little afraid of it, and when the car rocked back and fourth violently as it was lurched forward to the steep, eighty-five foot cable, I clamped my eyes shut and started murmuring that everything would be okay. It wasn't going to fall. The last thing I remember is my friend James taking  my hand and telling me it would be fine. I peeked at him, just for a split second, and saw his sincere smile, and then shut my eyes again. The next thing I remember was the gondola docking at the same station we had taken off from. My mind had kept me from remembering a twenty minute ride? What the hell did I do Friday?!

After the ride, James led me to a park bench, and we sat down while I took in the reality that we had not fallen from the high cable, and we were still alive. He hugged me, he kissed my cheek. I accepted his affection, and suggested we go on the Giant Wheel -- a Ferris Wheel that was twenty feet taller than the sky ride that I had just been on.

I have no memory of the ride on the Giant Wheel.

James told me we were the last to get on, and someone had gotten tangled in a gondola they were leaving, and we were stranded at the tip of the wheel for at least forty-five minutes.

No memory of that. No memory of panicking. James insisted that I did not panic, or even see distressed after he took my hand on the Sky Ride.

I want so badly to ask if I screwed him on either ride, but, believe it or not, I am embarrassed. I'm also angry. I'm angry at my husband for jumping into the gondola two spaces a head of us, and for only buying a one-way token. I couldn't walk the midway, so to get back to our families after the Giant Wheel ride, we had to take the Sky Ride again. Or so I was told. I blinked walking away from the Giant Wheel, and opened my eyes to find myself in the car, on the way home.

Fifteen days ago, I fell from grace.

I walked out of my home to see a family member at a show, and ended up shooting up, not once, but twice. I was pissed at myself for that. I could only think of all the things I had lost by making that mistake. My memory was blotchy. I couldn't remember things normally, and I had a few flash memories of said male family member on top of me.

But that couldn't happen, right?

If it did, it's the first time heroin took my conscious mind with it.

Or maybe it was something more than the herion. Maybe my own mind thought that the memory was too painful to keep, and forced me to forget. Fuck'd if I know.

It can't be heroin.

My mind went blank on the Sky Ride at the fair. I was a little afraid of it, and when the car rocked back and fourth violently as it was lurched forward to the steep, eighty-five foot cable, I clamped my eyes shut and started murmuring that everything would be okay. It wasn't going to fall. The last thing I remember is my friend James taking  my hand and telling me it would be fine. I peeked at him, just for a split second, and saw his sincere smile, and then shut my eyes again. The next thing I remember was the gondola docking at the same station we had taken off from. My mind had kept me from remembering a twenty minute ride? What the hell did I do Friday?!

After the ride, James led me to a park bench, and we sat down while I took in the reality that we had not fallen from the high cable, and we were still alive. He hugged me, he kissed my cheek. I accepted his affection, and suggested we go on the Giant Wheel -- a Ferris Wheel that was twenty feet taller than the sky ride that I had just been on.

I have no memory of the ride on the Giant Wheel.

James told me we were the last to get on, and someone had gotten tangled in a gondola they were leaving, and we were stranded at the tip of the wheel for at least forty-five minutes.

No memory of that. No memory of panicking. James insisted that I did not panic, or even see distressed after he took my hand on the Sky Ride.

I want so badly to ask if I screwed him on either ride, but, believe it or not, I am embarrassed. I'm also angry. I'm angry at my husband for jumping into the gondola two spaces a head of us, and for only buying a one-way token. I couldn't walk the midway, so to get back to our families after the Giant Wheel ride, we had to take the Sky Ride again. Or so I was told. I blinked walking away from the Giant Wheel, and opened my eyes to find myself in the car, on the way home.