A mother, a daughter, a sister, a girlfriend, an ex-wife...... rehabs, mental hospitals, psychologists, AA and a few beautiful years into my sobriety. This is my life, my daily life.....

Sunday, December 3, 2017

#13- It was positive...

Everyday I would wake in a panic. I would wake sweaty and breathless; do I still have some left? Do I have any money? How can I get money? Would my dealer answer when I call? Did he run out overnight? Will I make it to work if I met him downtown? Will I have enough to get through today?

I would re-live this routine day in and day out. Panic, fear, desperation. My every waking moment was fixated on heroin. How I would get it, how I would pay for it; how and when could I get high.

I was like a dog with a ball. When you hold that ball in your hand their eyes are on that ball, and that ball only. They watch it faithfully as you move it from left to right. They follow it like a lion hunting its prey. The anticipation leading up to you throwing that ball is torture, they jump around, they squeal, they wag their tail. Then you throw it, they run to catch it, they bring it back and you throw it again. Over and over and over again. Nothing else matters to them, not you, not that squirrel, not that leaf that just blew by, just the ball or in my case that bag.

I would wake every morning and reach for my arsenal on the table beside me. Inside would be a single bag that I managed to save from the night before. I would go in the bathroom, turn the shower on and proceed with orderly fashion. The needle, the belt, the cotton, the bag, all tucked away neatly and secure in a hard eyeglass case. I would have to get high before I brushed my teeth, before I showered, before I had coffee. It was of utmost importance. I was like a doll hunched over waiting on a shelf for someone to pull my string. I was not alive until I was high.

My full blown heroin use lasted roughly two years. Over time I started to become sloppy and my addiction started to reveal itself. It was getting harder and harder to hide. My boyfriend was constantly watching me and questioning my behaviors. I would fall asleep everywhere we went, at the kitchen table, at a restaurant.I would burn holes in his couch or my clothing because I would fall asleep while smoking. He was losing his patience and trying to have a normal conversation with his girlfriend was more confusing than Morse code.

I started to realize that if I continued I would lose him and I was growing tired of loss. I would get clean for him; because I sure as hell would not get clean for me.

October of 2009 I was given the number of a “doctor” that would prescribe me Suboxone.

Suboxone, from what I was told, would be the safest and easiest way to come off heroin. It will ease any discomforts that normally came from withdrawal. Symptoms like nausea, vomiting, stomach cramps, feeling cold, sweating, insomnia, restlessness, depression, hallucinations, paranoia and severe anxiety. Symptoms that are so debilitating that without proper care are near impossible.

So I scheduled an appointment to see him and for $150.00 I was given seven days worth of Suboxone. Suboxone is not to be used as a long term solution. It is not like methadone in that you would have to take it for the remainder of your life. Its main purpose, at that time, was to get you through the withdrawal. That is all.

It is an orange tablet that dissolves under your tongue. It will stop the effects of withdrawal, cravings and blocks the receptors in your brain that respond to opiates. So when you take it first thing in the morning you are dedicating that day to staying clean. You cannot get high if you tried. Which, of course, I did.

I was able to get a few more days worth from the doctor and I would use this as a security blanket for the coming weeks. Every morning, as hard as it was, I would take a small corner of that wafer. I would wrap myself up with that blanket, my shield, the Suboxone.

As days passed so did weeks and before I knew it I was opiate free. I was not drug free, or alcohol free, I was opiate free. I had successfully kicked heroin.

Have you ever heard someone use the reference “living on a pink cloud?” It is a term used often in treatment. It is a state of mind usually experienced in early sobriety consisting of unusual happiness and delusion thoughts of your life being in order. You are floating on a “pink cloud”, living a fairytale life eating gum-balls and lemon drops.

However, what goes up must come down.

My pink cloud lasted about six weeks before it vanished right beneath my feet. I plummeted towards earth like a fucking bullet train. My cravings came on strong. I missed everything about it. I missed my routine, I missed getting it, and preparing it, finding that vein and feeling the warmth of that fluid course through my blood stream like a warm fuzzy blanket. Everything inside of me was screaming heroin.

That same week, on December 18, 2009, I threw up. I threw up in the bathroom at work while making my way outside to smoke. My boyfriend insisted that I get a pregnancy test. To this day, I have no idea what possessed him to think that I would be pregnant. Maybe he saw something in me that was different. Honestly, I though I was sterile.

So I did. I reluctantly took the test and teased him as I went to confirm that it was negative.

It was not negative, in fact, there was absolutely nothing fucking negative about that pregnancy test.


  1. At a girl, tell that shit!!! Great to have found another warrior not afraid to keep it real, love ya my friend!!

    1. Thanks Marc! From one addict/alcoholic to another, carry on my friend! Much love!

  2. Omgosh - thanks for sharing your story.