So, more conversations about the end of using with my using partner… the tone more serious than before and valid reasons that can’t be argued away… all the same fucking reasons I’ve already been trying to medicate out of existence.
Now the fear starts. Fear that will cause anxiety. The anxiety will be fed by the awareness of reality as I come down. Paralysis will set in as I feel overwhelmed with the things to do to fix what I’ve broken. I’ll eventually be depressed as my brain cries out for just a little more of whatever “that shit” was. Suicide will sound tempting.
We talk about doing this together, and we have talked like that many times… which never go as planned as she continues to use and I see less and less of her. Soon, my inability to reach next level friendship with people leaves me lonely and missing her. Then I decide to relapse and fuck everything else. That sounds pretty lame as I read it, but the feelings are stronger than I can counter. Nothing has been able to fill that void left by losing a friend like her.
I know how unhealthy my thinking is… I’m choosing her/drugs over family/job/etc.