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I am tired of being on Suboxone. I am tired of being “good.” Tired of not partying, tired of staying home, tired of trying to fix what’s wrong with me.
I don’t want to go to meetings. I don’t want to see my therapist. I don’t want to write about it. I don’t want to call a friend. I don’t want to read inspirational stories about recovery and redemption. I don’t even want to go to yoga. I want to get into a time machine, go back to the year I was 23, drop a hit of ecstacy and go to a rave. Or something.
I am bored. And an addict being bored is a Very Dangerous Thing.
I recognize that part of this is that it’s February in the Pacific Northwest, and while the light is slowly returning…it’s still pretty frakking dreary. I also realize that part of this is my depression, which returned with a vengance this winter, and which is just starting to lift enough that I realize that I’m in a rut…but not really enough for me to do much about it.
Which is really the essence of boredom, isn’t it? Tolstoy wrote that boredom is “the desire for desires,” and that is exactly how I feel. I want to want to do stuff, but I don’t want to do stuff. And while there was a time in my life when a quick cure for boredom might have involved bong hits or tabs of LSD, that time is long, long gone.
So what then? How do I move past this feeling of boredom, before it turns into a relapse or another bout of depression?
First, I’m going to be patient with myself. The past several months have been physically and mentally hard, with my thyroid disease worsening and a recurrence of major depression. Healing takes time, and it sure as hell takes it’s own sweet time. Maybe my life IS a little boring and slow right now, but it’s what I can handle, and it won’t be this way forever.
Second, I’m going to make an appointment with my therapist. I’ve been avoiding her since I got depressed. Well, I was avoiding everyone, but I especially didn’t want to see the lady who wants me to confront my issues, jeesh. Maybe she can help me make a plan to be more proactive in my life.
Third, I’m forcing myself to be social. That’s right, real life friends, I should be returning your phone call any day now! Today I managed to get myself out to the gym for the first time in forever, and even though I missed yoga, I worked out and I think I feel better for it. And I went to a sorta-party at my work on Friday, and I might even go out to the movies some time soon!
Tonight I experienced the strongest urge to get high that I’ve felt since I started Suboxone treatment.
Someone was crushing up a pill on a bit of glass from some old picture frame, getting ready to snort some oxycontin. And at the moment that I walked in on that, I felt like every single cell in my body was just longing for that feeling and I burst into tears. Much to my horror and embarassment, I even wailed: It’s not fair! I want to get high too!
WHOA! Where the heck did that come from? As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I retracted them. No, I don’t want to get high. And even if I did, I couldn’t because I take a high enough dose of suboxone to block the effects of any other opiates I might take. But I need to look at that feeling, that longing, and see what was behind it – because I need that self understanding if I’m ever going to be able to do this without the Suboxone someday.
First thing, I am tired and in pain. While the Suboxone does a pretty damn good job of managing my fibromyalgia pain (or at least it has so far), I am in the middle of a moderately bad flare-up right now, so my baseline of pain is higher and my pain tolerance is lower and I am more easily fatigued. I worked 7.5 hours, on my feet the whole time, and my upper back/shoulders/neck are very stiff and painful right now. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot I can do about that, except to recognize that I need more rest and to take some comfort measures.
Also, I didn’t really eat all day – which usually results in me being a mess by the time I get home. And is not good for the fibro either – anything that upsets the tenuous balance can precipitate a disaster.
Those are the obvious things that I needed to take care of, but I think there’s something else at work here too. And I’m pretty sure I know what it is.
It’s fun. Or the lack thereof in my life of late. Especially shared fun with my husband, J.
Getting high is what we did for fun for quite a long time. We really liked getting high together, watching movies and talking late into the night. Because no matter what hell you finally arrive at that inspires you to quit the drugs, in the begining, drugs are fun. It feels good to get high, which is why people do it. It was also a way for us to connect, which sounds crazy, but you’ll just have to trust me on that.
For about 30 seconds tonight, I really wanted to “play” with my husband. We’ve been having some difficulties in our relationship, and haven’t been connecting. I wanted to go there with him, be in his headspace, share that euphoria. I wanted the mini-vacation from reality. I wanted my body to stop hurting for a couple of hours, to float in that blissful cloud again…
Not. Gonna. Happen. I left the room where the drugs were and found something to distract myself. I remembered that, even if I could get high, which I can’t, it wouldn’t be worth the negative consequences. I would feel bad about myself, I would jepordize my hard-won beginings of stability, I would want to do it again, and then again. And all for what - a feeling - something that never lasts.
But there is something that I need to learn from this experience. I’ve got to find other ways of cultivating pleasure and connection in my life and in my relationship. I need to have a ready list of self-care things I can do when I’m feeling so bad that using starts to look like an option, even if it’s only for half a minute. I also need to keep doing the work I need to do in order to live sucessfully with fibromyalgia. Sure, the suboxone helps with the pain and I’ve added exercise into the mix, but there is much more I could be doing with diet and supplements and time management and meditation.
And maybe I do need a little vacation. The past 6 months have been really intense, and I think it’s time that I got to go away for a long weekend by myself, to be with friends or do a yoga retreat or a writing workshop or any one of the many things that I’ve never treated myself to because all my extra money went up my nose. I’ve been working harder at this than I ever thought I could, and some breathing room, a little space sounds fantastic right now. There are a few places where I’ve been that brought me the feelings of peace and ease that I was always seeking from the drugs – maybe I’ll ask the universe just how I could get back to one of those places sometime soon. That would be just fine.
I had a sort of goal to write on this blog every day, and I thought that every day something interesting would happen and I would have something witty to say about it, and the energy, time, motivation to think it out, type it up and post. However.
Some days are just un-fucking-remarkable.
I don’t know if my implant is real or placebo. The implants were inserted into my arm 24 hours after a dose of sublingual suboxone, and approximately 12 hours later I started feeling crappy. Headache, joint pain, grumpy. I went to bed hoping the implants would pump me full of buprenorphine overnight and I would wake up feeling fine.
That didn’t happen so I dragged my ass back to the doctor, who had to look at my arm anyway, and he looked at my pupils, my yawning face, my tremoring hands and prescribed me some supplemental suboxone. They gave me a full dose, which I didn’t expect. Actually, it was more than I was taking before, 16mgs instead of 12mgs.
Today being Friday, I went back and asked for more. I had to take today’s dose while I was at the site, but they gave me some take-home meds for the weekend, because I am scared shitless of getting dopesick.
Now I am contemplating…do I take the full dose tomorrow, or take nothing and see how I feel, or take 4 or 6 mgs? They’re leaving it up to me. Part of me just wants to wake up in the morning and stick the pills under my tongue and get on with my day, knowing that I’ll be feeling well. Part of me wants to know if this thing in my arm is working at all, and I won’t be able to tell until I give it some time.
If I continue to need supplemental suboxone, I will have to drop out of the study or get a 5th implant. If I drop out, the doc will help me get into a suboxone program somewhere else – but it’s in my nature to just stay where I am unless I have to move (Taurus) so I’m inclined to just see if the implant works, even if it means getting another bit of plastic shoved under my skin.
Tonight I feel grumpy. I got stuck at work all day when I was supposed to be off because I worked all day yesterday as well. And I’m working all day tomorrow, when all I want to do is stay home and nest. Right now, the best coping skill I have for feeling like this is to go to bed.
But I will say, that as grumpy and tired as I am right now, and even though I am stressed because I haven’t been home enough, or had enough time for myself, for meditating and writing and thinking and just being, I still feel about a million times better than I did two weeks ago. Right now, I just feel like a regular person who had a long day, at the end of a long week, and needs to get her ass to bed.
I don’t feel like a junkie.
And that is an amazing thing about this unremarkable day.
I shouldn’t leave writing for so late in the day, er, night. I’m tired by now, and my mind is a little vacant. Earlier, I had lots of thoughts and ruminations – now I’m just ready for it to be over.
I had a great day with Little C today. We shopped for costumes and spent a leisurely lunch hour in the Wendy’s dining room, lingering over our rootbeer floats, (yum), making wiggle worms from straw wrappers, and just being silly together. It felt so good to just be in her presence, and to be able to connect with her and not be moody or grumpy or sick or high. Felt really good, a little giddy and I felt a bit kid-like myself. That is something worth quitting for, to be truly present with my daughter, enjoying a totally typical Sunday afternoon. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that. Missed her. Missed myself.
I feel somewhat rushed right now. The weekend is over, and it’s back to the study docs at 8am. I should be getting my implants this week, and I’m nervous about that since a&j got hers and hasn’t fared so well. Work is still chaos, and an avalanche of paperwork and other bullshit that I need to take care of awaits. *Deep Breath* I am also feeling some side effects from the suboxone: confusion, anxiety, hot flashes & flushing, sweating, thirsty. Kinda sucks, hopefully it will go away soon.
Oh, and those mother-fucking Lice are back again. I looked in Little C’s backpack and what do you know? Someone’s got lice at school again! We checked her head and found bugs, so now I have a mountain of laundry to do, and I have to clean the house and vacuum, and and and.
Life sure didn’t take a break so I could get well. It’s nothing major that makes it hard to hang on, it’s just the little b.s. that hits you over and over, and the lack of time and lack of rest and the clutter and accumulation and not having a quiet space for myself where I can just be the fuck alone.
The house is a mess, but if I work on it a little every day, I’ll get it fixed. My body is sick and tired, but I can work on that a little every day too. Everything is like that – I just have to do a little bit each day and not give up and I’ll get there. Well, I’ll get somewhere anyway. Right now, I’m going to bed.
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