I've been selling myself short I guess… not wanting to feel sadness, but the NA Basic Text says that part of recovery is having real feelings which includes sadness with joy, love, excitement, etc.
Hmmm… I like that actually. When I feel sadness, it's real. It's not based upon anything related to using but more to living life on life's terms.
I do like that.
That gives me permission to be sad which I've felt was wrong and a sign of poor recovery… so it's okay to be something other than positive and still have good recovery.
Seriously liking this.
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.
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 am an emotional mess right now. I am crying over nothing and angry at everything. Detoxing off meth, especially as much and for as long as I’ve been running, is fucking hard. While it’s not a physical detox like heroin or alcohol, I’m experiencing very serious mental whatever’s. I don’t know what to call it, but my brain is demanding something it’s been used to for months and I can’t give it what it wants… and it’s taking it out on me through various means.
I have brain zaps where it feels like an electrical charge hits me and I lose vision and balance for a second or two. I have almost zero energy so doing day to day activities is near impossible. My mood is “meh” until it’s beyond depressed until it’s so angry that I’m trying to start fights with anyone that breathes. All that… all that shit is nothing compared to having your brain co vincenyou that you’re better off using and if you can’t use, you might as well be dead. I just wrote this to a friend and it sums it up for me…
It’s day by day. It’s not that fucking easy. I want it but you have no clue as to how hard it is to go through the detox and mindfuck when quitting. It’s easier to use than it is to face what I’m going through. I’m only doing it now because I have one fucking dollar to my name and you can’t buy shit for a dollar.
Yes, it sucks that I say one thing and do the opposite. Yes I’m sick of myself. Yes I suck. Yes everyone loves me and what the fuck is my problem just get the Fuck over it Craig…
I spent the day with a friend who had a severe panic/anxiety attack. She was convinced she was going to die… she just knew it. She’s in the medical field and knows all the logic behind them, was taking her pulse, her own vitals and she wasn’t dying… she could see it… but her fucking mind convinced otherwise. For hours I was ready to call 911 for an ambulance because she said she was dying… she just knew it. But a small part of her, a tiny part said it wasn’t true and she had gone to the ER before and she was just having another panic attack. It took four hours for her to come out of that. She said it’s the most real thought she has… the most convinced she ever gets. Those panic attacks are not panic attacks. They are her last moments on earth.
My brain help me do wonderful and awesome things… I have the ability to make people happy and to educate them and make their lives better and I have my brain to thank for that. But it turns on me and it asks for things I can’t do.
But whatevef. It’s bullshit anyway. I just need to make it through these next few days and I might not feel the need to use anymore. Fuck me if I make it I still have the future and history to deal with. That’s me… giving no myself no chance already.
I spend a lot of time in these.