Oxycontin

OxyContin comes in different strengths and colours including 80mg (green), 40mg (yellow), 5mg (turquoise) and 20mg (pink), which make them easily identifiable for patients and users buying on the street. Their colours provide a nickname: M&Ms.

sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

I find myself watching that show on A & E INTERVENTION from time to time. Sometimes I get sucked right into the addicts story of woe while other times, the addict ends up infuriating me so much that I fear I'll end up giving myself a stroke! I know that every addict is different and so is their tolerance, etc but you'll be hard pressed to convince me that someone who has just been using for a couple of years is going to have as difficult a time kicking then someone who has used for a couple of decades. Whatever, that's not really what has got me all fired up!

I am very much aware that there are a whole lot of people who drink or drug so that they are able to escape or forget some awful past trauma, or to self medicate either diagnosed or undiagnosed mental health issues. I also think that there are a whole lot of us out there who drink or take drugs just cause they like to drink or take drugs! I was most definitely one of them.

It's often much more difficult to watch the addicts support group as they struggle to come to terms with their addict and his/her behaviour. Without exception, they all seem to have a tendency to blame themselves in some way for the addicts problems. Maybe that's true in some cases, but I suspect that more often than naught, it is not at all related. Maybe they're simply being too hard on themselves. Certainly if they actually did something terrible, then my guess is that they already know it. So, if they are unable to actually think of anything that they could have done to cause them to drink or drug then there probably isn't anything at all. They should attempt to move on and stop torturing themselves with guilt, vainly searching for that traumatic event that caused their loved one to become an addict. They may simply have to accept that perhaps their addict does what they do simply because they love getting drunk or high for this and this alone.

I wished many times when I was young and immature and arrogant that I had something in my past to be tortured about. It's a lot more romantic and punk rock if your life is filled with some sort of angst! Unfortunately for me, I was as far removed from that lifestyle than one could possibly imagine - now, since my late teens and early twenties, I've since managed to change all of that and wish that I didn't have some of the baggage I've now managed to accumulate in the past two decades!

I was fortunate enough to be raised by involved, loving and kind parents, given every middle class advantage. I did exceptionally well in school. earning a full paying scholarship to university upon my high school graduation. I was a lifeguard at our local pool every summer and worked as a waitress at the local truck stop during the school year. I had more than enough friends and no terrible, life altering story to tell about my teen years or even any tease worthy physical defects. I had what many would consider an idyllic childhood and yet, I still managed to spend two and a half decades abusing substances as if this were my true life's calling.

I discovered booze in my mid teens, and I loved it. I mean, I couldn’t believe how much I loved it. I then managed to spend the next many years of my life enjoying it to great excess. I drank because I liked getting drunk too much. It fit just right inside my mind. Eventually, of course, the drinking got less fun, certainly less exciting, and in fact, actually started to get boring. It never got to the point where my drinking interfered with my work or life but still I could see that if I didn't reign myself in that I'd be unable to maintain the status quo much longer.

Drinking was much easier to walk away from simply because I had something newer and shinier to replace it with. I still had a pretty idyllic life even though I'd since been through a couple of really nasty relationships but even so, I never used any of this as an excuse to continue my substance abusing lifestyle. I had now simply integrated this into my everyday routine. Even at the very end of my final out of control opiate addiction two and a half years ago, I was never, ever using because of some awful trauma that I was trying desperately to suppress. To the end, and I mean to my absolute final hit with that syringe filled with about 12mg of dilaudid, I was using simply because I loved to use. End of sentence, full stop. Period.

In the end, it doesn't matter much how you got yourself addicted, once you are, you have a struggle ahead of you, and I don’t think that falling into addiction this way is any “worse” than falling into addiction and abuse for any other reason. Nobody plans to become a desperate drunk or drug addict, certainly not initially or intentionally, although as a species, we seem to be hardwired to seek out pleasure – and for those of us that seem to get more pleasure out of a drink and drugs than others, it’s understandable why we might get ourselves into trouble.

METHADONE PRETTY ARCHIVES

I am so very excited. I can barely contain myself. I just hope that this all works out well. Apparently my junkylife.com writings have not been lost after all and as the owner of the domain is currently in the process of shutting all of the sites down, he sent out an email asking what we wanted done with our sites. Duh???? Like I haven't been trying for the past nine months to get so much as an answer from him concerning my deleted site. Whatever. All now seems to be good. Let's keep our fingers crossed just in case. He asked that I give him a few days to get it set back up from the backup and moved over. No problem so far. His email was sent on the 18th so its now just been a week. I won't start to panic until the weekend. So if anyone is even remotely interested, once the old site has been transferred to the new site, you can check out what I was like when I was actively using as most of this site covered that specific time of my life. Only a small portion of the writings found there follow me in recovery and the ones that do are the very early stages when I was using and taking methadone.

METHADONE PRETTY ARCHIVES

YES

YES

A wonderful live rendition on video of one of the most spell binding - and chilling - songs ever written, by one of the greatest bands that has ever been. Taken of the Manic Street Preachers while performing at Glastonbury in the summer of 1994 during their The Holy Bible Tour, this is the opening song from their third album entitled the same as this tour. The song was written by their original song writer, Richey Edwards, who mysteriously disappeared within a half a year of this album being released in Great Britain. To suggest that he had seemed to be fighting numerous personal demons prior to vanishing goes beyond mere understatement. This entire album certainly turned out to be pretty much a blueprint of the last year or so of his very tortured life. He has never been heard from or seen since, nor has his body ever been found, and just last month it was the thirteenth anniversary of his disappearance . Tragic really, as he was truly a brilliant writer. While the Manics ultimately ended up thriving in the face of such huge odds, it certainly is a testament to their own individual strengths as people as well as performers that they were able to go on to become such a fantastic band, although obviously one greatly changed from this event. Enjoy.

Yes

You can buy her, you can buy her
This one's here, this one's here, this one's here and this one's here
Ev'rything's for sale

For sale? dumb cunt's same dumb questions
Oh virgins? listen, all virgins are liars honey
And I don't know what I'm scared of or what I even enjoy
Dulling, get money, but nothing turns out like you want it to

And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want

I eat and I dress and I wash and I still can say thank you
Puking - shaking - sinking I still stand for old ladies
Can't shout, can't scream, hurt myself to get pain out

I 'T' them, 24:7, all year long
Purgatory's circle, drowning here, someone will always say yes
Funny place for the social, for the insects to start caring
Just an ambulance at the bottom of a cliff

In these plagued streets of pity you can by anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want, if you want

I eat and I dress and I wash and I can still say thank you
Puking - shaking - sinking I still stand for old ladies
Can't shout, can't scream, I hurt myself to get pain out

Power produces desire, the weak have none
There's no lust in this coma even for a fifty
Solitude, solitude, the 11th commandment

The only certain thing that is left about me
There is no part of my body that has not been used
Pity or pain, to show displeasure's shame
Everyone I've loved or hated always seems to leave

And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want, if you want

Power produces desire, the weak have none
There's no lust in this coma even for a fifty
Solitude, solitude, the 11th commandment

Don't hurt, just obey, lie down, do as they say
May as well be heaven this hell, smells the same
These sunless afternoons I can't find myself

Two dollars for everything
Three dollars ...?...
Five dollars ...?...

Where's the Easter Bunny When You Need Him?

So this coming Saturday will be one of those dreaded holiday family get togethers at my Mom's. Well at least this is the first get together since Christmas so...I'm as game as I'll ever be I suppose.

I mostly hate these get togethers as they inevitably seem to bring out some of my less desirable traits. Suddenly this moronic and sophomoric competition like behaviour materializes within me and the day starts to turn into me ensuring that I literally get the last word and laugh, so to speak. Now that I've been welcomed back into the family fold, there is no way that my sister-in-law will ever again come out on top!

I must arrive looking absolutely fabulous as merely presentable will simply not do - once an addict, always in the ready position to disprove any remote suspicion or suggestion of a possible relapse and looking only so-so is worse than waving a bright red flag at BULL FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE.

Yet, at the same time, I can never appear to be trying too hard as this is just as bad an infraction. I must ensure that whatever I do decide to wear must fit me like a second skin and I mean this literally. I must ensure that I own the outfit. It would be a disaster if it looked as if I were merely playing dress up and wearing some sort of "costume" for the day.

After all of this, I also have to ensure that I look a zillion times better than Erica. She must appear positively frumpy beside me - this actually won't be as hard as it used to be now that she's had three children in quick succession. She doesn't seem to have the same amount of energy to dedicate towards her previously obnoxious vanity and narcissism.

As I mentioned at the beginning, this honestly is the only time that I allow my ego and vanity to take over. I'm not normally this self absorbed, it's just that I am still feeling way sensitive and ultra exposed at these family events, not to mention a tad bit paranoid, perhaps. Although, I know that I don't look like some down and out junky, who's to say that this reality isn't lurking around the next corner.

...there by the grace of...go I...

Let The Sun Shine!!!

---

Just last week, I got an email from the administrator of the junkylife.com set of sites, a place where I had a site for almost exactly two years. I started to blog there in July 2005 and for almost two years, I had no difficulties whatsoever with the site. Suddenly at the end of May or very beginning of June 2007, I could no longer access anything to do with my site. At this point, I had well over 200 entries not to mention all the custom work that I had done on the site itself. Suddenly without any warning, everything seemed to be lost. Up until last week, I had pretty much given up any hope on ever retrieving any of my writings but there just might be a small glimmer of hope for me after all. He is shutting down the site in the very near future but just emailed me to say that he should be able to retrieve all of my past entries. This is magnificent. I don't want to get my hopes up too, too much but if this bit of news is accurate then I'll be getting back all of my writings from when I was seriously using, prior to starting treatment this time. I very much want to be reminded of how bad it had all gotten and relying solely on one's memory, especially a junky's memory, is not the smartest way to go about it.

Victim of Crime Part II

So after Jim and I got home from the cop shop last Saturday, Sara mentioned that while she was out in the lobby mopping the floors - she recently got a part time job with the same company that Jim and I work for - some crazy lady approached her to ask her for a light for her smoke. Sara said that she did not have one and tried to return to her work. The next thing, she is chasing after this chick who apparently just took it upon herself to walk straight into our apartment. As Sara was going after her, Katie looked up from what she was reading and noticed this strange woman standing in the middle of our living room.

Both of them confronted her, demanding that she get out of our home ASAP. Good for them, yet still kind of creepy. The girls obviously shouldn't have to worry about stuff like this either. Anyway, later on that day, I went up to work in the same unit that my purse had been taken from the night before. About a half an hour into my work there, I heard the handle of the front door. It was as if someone was shaking it or trying to get into the unit. I quietly walked down the hall to look out of the peep hole to see who it was but I couldn't see anything. All of a sudden I heard Jim's voice asking someone why they were trying to enter this unit.

As she was about to answer, I opened the door to see Jim and this obviously cracked out woman standing in the hall. From their right, I also noticed that Sara was now coming down the hall. I asked her if this was the same woman that was in our apartment earlier today and she said yes. I read the riot act to her, especially as she is not even a tenant of this apartment building - sadly, she is actually somebody's mother!

I've had a couple of run ins with this lady. Recently, I found her standing in the middle of our lobby nodding off. I had to wake her up from her nod to find out what she was even doing there. To Jim's earlier question, she had some lame answer that she thought that this was the apartment of the guy she was supposed to meet for dinner. A bloody likely story I might add. When I told this to my Regional Manager, she said that this individual had been caught the week prior trying to get into units at the sister building right beside ours. She is now going to get a trespassing order taken out on her so that it will be illegal for her to even be on any of these properties.

I am pretty confident that she was the one that beat me for my purse that Friday night also. Nothing I can do about it now although I am sure glad that she didn't get any cash from me.