Plan into action

My plan is now in full effect… it’s reality and no stopping it unless I die and I kinda want that to happen… but I don’t…

I’m moving back to Houston, going into sober living facility and getting my shit together… I planned on this a few weeks ago and have been delaying it due to one excuse or another, but this morning… I woke up in a mood and immediately wanted to use and I just said fuck it… either use or do the right thing.  You did it dude… I know… so I called my parents (I’m 46 and still calling my parents for help which shows how lame I am) and told them to get me out of here ASAP.. I have the fundraiser on Thursday and then I’m ready to go… I’m leaving everything behind… taking clothes and computer and that’s it. The rest are memories that I can like with in my head. 

Immediately, sadness overwhelmed me… sadness that isn’t regret but true sadness… that’s new. I can’t regret if I’m going to make a better life for myself. Regret is for relapses. Regrets are excuses. I fuck regrets. 

So… I will ben on a plane to Houston in a few days and starting a new life in my old hometown. I am ready to set fire to this past year.  Burn it all. And no fucking phoenix reference because I’m not rebuilding from these ashes. I am starting anew. 

My friends in Missoula… I love you and love you and love you and love you and fucking miss you already… my friends in Houston… I need you and need you and need you and can’t wait to see you. 

I’m going to be a sentimental, tearful, sad sack of shit these next few days. I’m sorry… 

Day two of being clean, BTW.

Why am I doing it? Am I doing it?

I don’t even want to talk about this… it’s gnawing at the front of my head and I’ve been getting headaches the past few days… as my decision starts to require more action… more dedication… as it requires more belief in it… is there even hope?  I can’t have belief without hope…

I am moving.  Fuck… I am moving back to my hometown to get clean because I am not able to do it here.  I made the call two weeks ago or so… I was a bottom and sick of being a bitch and compromising everything to get high… but… attention.

I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do this anymore.  I am totally sure I need to…

I’ll get back to you on this…

 

I’m quiet because I have things I need to say

Uh, yeah… I’m here still… it’s just that I’m busy trying to cram reality and insanity into 24 hours and it’s not that easy… it can be done because I’m doing it, but it’s not quality…

Plus… I’m not totally happy with my current choices and I have some sadness and anxiety about some shit I have to decide on right away.

I’m working up some courage.

I’m calling it… white flag, towel thrown, hands up

Fuck it dude. This was your last go and yes it sucked and yes it wasn’t what you expected and yes you did it alone as usual and yes… you moron, betrayed yourself and became little whiny bitch that doesn’t have the mental fortitude to make it through to the other side without drugs and therefore you knelt down and let others whack your head off… you groveled to people who don’t respond to that… you went back on your word a million times and made yourself look like a fool… a weak and ridiculous and petty jerk… you may have not sucked any dicks, but you’re still a bitch.

What I’m feeling now is the worst. The dread and the discomfort of my own thoughts is ruining everything else.  I will have to learn to be happy with how this went down. I wanted to go out winning… but there is no winning when you’re like me… it’s more losing than not.

This feeling of not being in control stems from not having any money. This past year I’ve blown through about $40,000.00 in severance and 401k withdrawals and I’ve been rolling in dough for a while now. I did not want for anything and I called the shots when they needed to be. I had friends and was happy and wasn’t begging… that’s all gone. I am now the hanger-on… the leech… the mooch… oh fuck, here comes Craig. I don’t play that role well I already know. I have to just give up and that kinda feels okay now. Kinda.

I’m worried about losing even more of my using partner… that’s my biggest challenge ever. To live life without her… I’ve not been able to yet.  But what I’ve become in pursuit of her is downright lame and unattractive I’m sure.  It that she’s in love with me, but still… I gotta be happy with my own self. I had that a little while ago. I fucking had that. Let’s get it again.

So, I guess this is it… not that I’m going anywhere but that I’m going to be going insane again… hate filled and angry… desperate and depressed… but hopeful I guess… hopeful that I’m right this time and that it’s worth the effort.

It’s been time for a while… the decision has has been decided.

I’ve got a goal.

Tomorrow is the start of change that I can do… manageable, attainable, potentially sustainable.

I’ve been on a run… a really long and expensive and painful run. And I’ve wanted this to end for a while, for a number of reasons and it’s been damn near… totally impossible to end the run for more than a few days and those ends were mostly based on circumstances not of my choosing… of my doing, yes.  

I’ve been packing up a bunch of stuff in the house that I live in alone that is going to be sold at auction on December 4th.  Most of my son’s clothes, books, games, collections, hats, etc. are still here and he’s elsewhere, and we’re separated by a number of states.  He just up and left because the living situation my wife and I created was not ideal and he is of the age he could decide to live with another family member. There’s the backstory even if you didn’t want it…

Anyway, I’ve been worried more about scoring the next hit of whatever (which has started to include heroin, which is stupid, but have you read my shit?) and that hit has been a distraction every time and it’s why I live alone, have no money, no job, no anything to be stoked about. Fuck… I am having a hard time staying focused… 

So you don’t leave before the details:  packing up my son’s things has opened my eyes and my mind and in those openings, a little rationality and some clarity slid on in. I asked myself why my next hit was more important than being with my son.

It isn’t… but I’m not ready to say I can’t control my using some how, some day.  So, starting tomorrow, Monday, I’m done for 30 days and then I’ll revisit this decision. If anything, after the coming days of detox, I’ll be more of everything I want to be. I’ll have more money, more time and less drama. I went so far as to tell my guy not to sell to me for 30 days to which he agreed.  I will not be hanging with my using partner and using friends for this first seven days… maybe longer if need be.  So, long way of saying I’ve got a different priority right now… one that’s positive and I’m going to have motivation to stay clean for at least 30 days and even I should be able to pull that off… again. 

I’m setting up roadblocks to failure, not street signs to success… but I’m still moving and it’s in the right direction.  

The shit that comes out of my mouth

I just ran into a good friend at my favorite smoothie establishment and she knows my deal… she’s seen the fall… she’s tried to talk sense in me… 

I updated her on how poorly I’m doing and I really do sound ridiculous. She’s 20 years younger than I am, works hard, doesn’t complain and has more to offer this world than I do. 

It’s been time for a while… time to make a decision. 

There is no bottom…

Not that I’ve really been looking to hit one, and fuck… I’m not doing one fucking thing that makes my life worthwhile…. what’s worthwhile?  Why not just less miserable… less disastrous… less dramatic… less fucking disappointing.  

I’m going to lose my house on December 4th. I’ll lose power before then… I’ll run out of food before then… I’ll run out of money by the end of this week… I’m out of drugs. 

All my life someone has pulled me out of my own way… I’ve made sure that’s been the case because I can charm the fuck out of you and be whatever I need to be to make sure you save me from me. That’s because I’m not willing to suck a dick to get drugs… im not going to rob a old lady to get drugs… what the fuck do I know though?   I’ve done some shit this run that I thought I’d never do… sell shit I shouldn’t sell… piling on the guilt you’re already feeling… giving you another fucking reason to use… you’re not that fucking smart. Are you fucker?

It’s already fucking snowing here…it’s not anyone else’s  responsibility to save me… duh… okay, you’re learning… what else?  What do you have to do… what needs to happen… what’s the one fucking word you need to learn you pussy… you fucking dumbass… fucking say it… you can’t. You fucking dumbass. You can’t fucking say it… Wow… lost cause folks. He’s not ready…

I’m trying to respond with what I lose of stop using, but it just sounds fucking so stupid… if I stop using, I lose my using partner.  Yeah, I know… what the fuck?  I want to just beat the shit out of myself. I must really hate myself to keep convincing myself that me using to not lose her is worth all the other shit I’ve lost, including my family.

She’s hitting me up as I write this… her timing was s impeccable… always. We have that connection… that’s part of why I struggle… there’s something….

That something won’t keep me out of the snow though. I need to keep that shit in mind.