Addiction Recovery is Boring.

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!

Continuing the Suboxone taper

The tapering is an up and down process. I have some good days, where I feel like I could kick the world’s ass, and then there are days like today where I am definitely on the receiving end of the ass-whoopin.

However. The discomfort I’ve been feeling is nothing like the times I tried to taper myself off opiates in the past (or quit cold-turkey, god forbid). I’m not in bed all day crying and wishing I was either dead or in possession of more drugs. So that’s progress.

I have intermittent headaches and I feel like I have a mild flu that fluctuates in intensity throughout the day. My internal thermostat seems to be off as well. I was cold and bundled up all day today, which is strange for me, and it was high 70’s to low 80’s here today. Weird.

I got up early with C today and got her off to the bus, then came home and read for a bit and fell asleep. J woke me with brunch around 11 or so, and after I ate I spent some time reading and surfing online. Around 3 I was overwhelmingly tired, like falling asleep in my chair tired, so I went back to bed. This evening I took a walk, and now I’m here writing.

Not terribly productive, but I feel like I should give my body the rest it is clearly craving if I’m able to do so. Yesterday I worked and was on my feet for 8 hours, so I’m sure that is a contributing factor in my fatigue today. And J has been really good about getting meals and giving me time and space to do as much nothing as I want or need.

Tomorrow I’m going to go back to the gym. My arm is mostly healed, but I’ll probably just do a cardio workout. We’ll see. Mostly I just want to soak in the hot tub, but once I’m there I’ll break down and get some exercise too. Working out really helps with the w/d symptoms and with my mood and energy levels as well. This time I just need to listen to my body more and not push so hard that I hurt myself. Just typing that out makes it seem like such a no-brainer, but then again it usually is the obvious that escapes me.

Now I’m rockin a headache for which I do not know the cure. These headaches don’t respond to my migraine meds or to otc pain relief. I’m fairly certain that they are related to the Sub w/d’s, since the time I’ve been on Sub has been some of the most headache-free time in my life. Maybe I’ll put an ice pack on my head and see if that helps.

As far as my spirit goes, it is strangely unflagging. I’ve not been one to suffer discomfort stoically in my life, so this is kinda surprising. I guess I’m just ready to push through this over the coming months. While I’m grateful for the space and time Suboxone has given me to get my act together, I feel I’m outgrowing it or gone past it’s usefulness and I’m ready to move on. As always, the trick is finding balance: not pushing too hard too fast or losing my focus and going too slowly. Just like with working out, the key here seems to be slowing down and listening to my body.

I also hope to find some homeopathic or naturopathic support for this process. I’ll probably post more on that soon.

Goodnight!

I’m Back!

Ugh, last month sucked, and so far September hasn’t been too rockin either. But I did start this blog with the hope that it would help me give up my habit of quitting, so here I am.

I’m getting down into the low doses on my Suboxone taper, and it’s…uncomfortable. On the positive side, my sex drive seems to have come back from the dead, hosannah! It’s kind of strange though, when you find yourself lecherously contemplating the dood who drives the yard-waste truck (yes, the garbageman, that is correct) or the neighbor’s friend as he shingles the roof. What is wrong with me?!? Am I going to turn into the proverbial desperate housewife, banging the gardener? As if! Like I’m even married, bah-hahahahah! Or could afford a gardener, woot!

Went to the gym yesterday, and now I can’t fully straighten out my left arm. Convenient, especially since I work today. Who knew how dangerous the bicep-curl machine could really be. The rest of me feels pretty decent though. Now if I can just get back there three or four hundred more times, I might just get in shape. The combo of med withdrawal and a month off from the gym (though I did swim a lot for a couple of those weeks) left me feeling pretty decrepit upon reentry to the world of exercise. Entropy, you suck.

I’m off for my coffee date now – part of my “Back to Living” campaign. I can’t hide in my bedroom forever you know. If you want to read some more of my whining, I have a post up at The Second Road.

Love to you all and my apologies to all my friends who I haven’t called. xoxoxoxo

Eat At Mom’s

I am on vacay in Florida at the moment. Got here yesterday afternoon after an overnight flight, a layover, and an early am flight.

Lots to think about, much to write…but for the moment I have to wrangle the six-year-old into a swimsuit and go see my sisters.

For now let me leave you with this thought…a lot of the stability I have in my recovery is based around habits and routines that I’ve developed in my life at home. As soon as I got taken out of that environment…hell, even when I was just thinking about being out of my home environment, my brain started scheming, thinking bad thoughts about other people’s medicine cabinets and how I was sure to be in a lot of pain after such a long flight and and and…

I caught myself and put a stop to that runaway train, but still – I was kinda suprised that I went in that direction at all. I’ve had it so good with the Suboxone treatment, and I hardly ever have cravings anymore, so I guess my defenses were down. Taking me out of my safe little life and then heaping on the stress of traveling (on my own with the kid no less), not to mention the whole visiting-my-family thing (They put the FUN in DisFunktionaL! har-dee-har-har) – well, let’s just say I probably could have seen that coming.

Lucky for me, I’m really starting to enjoy my new life and I don’t want to mess it up. Not for a feeling, a fleeting feeling that never really was as good as the joy I get to feel nowadays. I’ll prolly go to the library or the bookstore and get some kind of inspirational reading to do while I’m here (Hat Tip to the fabulous Erin who gave me that idea!) and I’ll do my best to make time to chronicle the wackiness that is my family over the next two weeks. Sure, they’re on their best behavior now, but the vacay has only just begun.

We’ll see how things are in a few days.

Love to you all, I’ll be thinking of you as I lounge by the pool eating lobster and trying to avoid skin cancer. Kisses!

Almost normal?

That’s right, I think I’m starting to become almost like a “normal” person. Ha ha!

I know, I know, there’s no such thing as normal, and even if there was, it isn’t something one should aspire to be anyway.

What I’m getting at, I think, is that I’m starting to cross over into a place where I, and my life, am not totally defined by what is fucking wrong with me all the time. Does that make sense?

My depression seems to be in remission and I’m not even taking any antidepressants anymore (unless you count Suboxone as an anti-d, and it is a very effective one.) My anxiety is largely controlled by exercise and meditation, and I rarely have to take anti-anxiety medication anymore. My fibromyalgia flares are getting shorter and less intense and I have longer stretches of well-being between them. Migraine headaches are largely a thing of the past.

I’ve been going to the gym. I’ve made some new friends and reconnected with some old, good friends who I lost touch with when I was so sick and using too many drugs. My house, while not perfect, is way cleaner and more organized that it was a few months ago and I don’t feel so overwhelmed by it. Sleep is no longer the best part of my day, or the only thing I have to look forward to.

I still have a lot of work to do, and I know it. I’ve got issues with self-esteem and procrastination, my relationship needs a major overhaul, and then there’s the whole pandora’s box of  food/eating/body image issues. I’d like a more developed spiritual life, and I need a haircut…

But still. I feel good. Dare I even say that I feel happy? That doesn’t even adequately describe it. I feel accomplished, and today I feel like I might even make it for the long haul. I know that feelings are fleeting, but I’m going to enjoy this one. I’ve earned it. I think that I’m only on the verge of realizing how much energy I was using up by living in a state of emergency 24/7/365. I’m kind of excited to see if I can keep going forward now. Ahhhhh….

You, all of my blog friends, thank you. Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to quit, but I didn’t because I felt some sense of accountability to y’all? Thank you for reading this mess, and leaving your comments and baring your own souls on your own blogs. I wish I could have you all over for a BBQ. Thank you from the very bottom of my almost normal heart.

Unmoored.

Since Little C’s been away, I feel a little lost. Her presence gives a shape to my day, and without her here I’m devolving into aimlessness.

Seriously, I’m not sure what’s up with me this week. My sanest guess is that I overdid it over the Solstice weekend, and now I’m suffering. I have to say it was worth it, for the pure joy of the day we spent at the park and the beautiful walk around the city, plus J and I went dancing that night for the first time in ages.

Now I’m recooping and trying hard not to get down on myself for lazing about and not accomplishing much. Hopefully I’ll be back in the game tomorrow and can accomplish some of the things I wanted to get done this week. For now, I’ve got to prioritize my physical and mental health.

On the positive side, I got myself some cute new clothes yesterday for my upcoming trip to Florida. And Little Cappie’s birthday is coming up, so I guess I’ve got some external motivation to get the house in shape right there, huh?

I feel like I’m in a strange place right now. I feel like I’ve come through the fire in a way, and gotten my hard-won little bit of stability. Now I need to move toward steering my life in the direction I want it to go, which is scary since I’ve spent the last however many years just reacting to stuff and trying to keep my head above water.

Also, now that I don’t have the immediate, huge, pressing concern of drug abuse fucking up my life, I’m finding that there’s a bunch of other shit wrong with me that I really need to deal with. I’ve made a good start on the addiction thing, and even the physical health bit has improved since I’ve been exercising. But my spiritual life is crying for attention, and I’ve got a messed-up relationship with food, I’m not sure how to stay motivated in my life, and lately I’ve tip-toed up to a big-ass well of fear that seems to be at the center of all of it.

And it’s summer. I was really looking forward to fucking off and enjoying life – so why am I now feeling called to resume the excavation?

I’ve got some stuff to think about.

Early in the morning in the middle of the night

All I have is my heart, and this question. There is no book to go to, no website to look up. Oracles to consult, advice to be given.

Something is amiss, a piece is missing and I worry at it sometimes, late at night when I should be asleep.

Why was I drawn to what would hurt me? Did someone hurt me and I can’t remember? I feel like that’s dangerous territory – memory is so programmable.

I felt so worthless. So unwanted, unlovable. I remember looking into the mirror, staring into my own brown eyes wondering what was wrong with me, what was wrong with me?

Where did that hurt come from? Maybe I’m not ready yet, to know.

Or is there no answer?

I don’t know. I really don’t know.

I was precocious – in more than one way.

the root, the root

to find the root

go back, back in memory – but it’s not coherent. Impressions overlaid with stories, the competing narratives of siblings, parents, self.

A man? A doctor? A pastor? A teacher? A friend? A relative?

Or is that too neat? Am I just looking for the rotten beam in my foundations, like I could just rip it out and replace it and all will be well…

suddenly, I would make sense.

It fits – the reason, it fits my symptoms.

but perhaps I was just precocious. A sensualist in a puritan family.

Dark things seemed exciting. I read Go Ask Alice and thought her life seemed glamorous. I didn’t get it.

I took my best friend’s bathing suit off…I was poking her nipple, I think, when her mom looked out the window and saw us. She sent me home, with no other words. We were playing in the pool, we never spoke of it again. How old were we? Six?

That’s just normal kid stuff, right?

That wasn’t the only time, though, or the only friend…

what was up with me? Curious? or was something Wrong?

I used to lay in bed at night. A little girl’s bed, small and narrow, with dark blue sheets printed with roses – fat leafy blooms, intertwining stems. Some nights I pretended I had leukemia, and I was dying. Everyone came to see me, to visit me and talk. My head was bald and I didn’t want to die, but I was very brave.

Other nights, other diseases. I was always good and brave, and dying. Sometimes, in my imagination, Bo Duke from The Dukes of Hazzard* would sit by my bed and hold my hand, and I would look into his soulful blue eyes and I knew he loved me. Too bad I would die before ever being kissed.

*you can feel free to laugh at that, I know I do.

I really need to get to bed.

Sigh, relief…

My doctor said that the letter I got (the one I was not freaking out about in my last post) was just informing me that the first six months of my treatment were up, and that he would still apply for a second six months. He seems confident that I’ll get the extention, and he’s done this a lot, so I’m not going to worry about it.

Little Cappie had her first dance recital tonight – holy cuteness overload! Her class, pre-modern dance, performed first. They were little monkeys and their dance was a take on the classic monkeys-jumping-on-the-bed story. Freakin’ adorable. I was a class chaperone, which meant I got to take the class out to the audience after they were done performing and sit with them through the rest of the show. Monkeys, indeed! Actually, J said that from across the audience they looked like a bunch of prairie dogs, heads popping up and down as they got up and down in and out of their seats all through the show.

Getting ready for dress rehearsal and the show today was more stressful than I thought it would be. I wasn’t feeling well and I’m stressed about my final exam tomorrow, and time seemed to be slipping away. It’s been miserable weather here in the PNW, and all I wanted was to curl up in bed with my new book. I had a few moments of almost spinning out of control, but me and J managed to pull together and work as a team. Now I’m glad that I put the effort in – it was worth it when I saw my little girl’s smiling face as she came off stage tonight. We even managed to get a new charger for the video camera (something we’ve been putting off for, oh, 4 years) so we could record the event for the East Coast branch of the family.

In other news, I have a new post about dealing with pain in recovery up at Suboxone Blog. I do hope you click over and read it, and if you do read it I hope you enjoy it! Maybe you’ll even find something useful there, who knows?

Now I have to go study for my final exam. There’s something to be greatful for – Logic will be out of my life after tomorrow! Woot!

Goodnight, y’all, and sweet dreams.

Lacing up my hoop-jumping shoes.

I got a letter from the state today, informing me that they will cease paying for my Suboxone treatment as of June 19, 2008.

Well, at least they gave me a sufficent amount of time to taper off. (Yes  that’s sarcasm.)

The letter said that they’d received my doctor’s request to extend my treatment for another six months. According to they who make the rules, this is not a medically appropriate usage of Suboxone, so I am SOL.

There is an appeal process I can go through, but if I want to continue my treatment while they consider my appeal then I MUST appeal within ten days of the date on the letter. The letter I got was dated May 27, 2008 – which means I would have to have appealed by yesterday. But wait! The postage-meter stamp on the envelope the letter came in was dated June 4, 2008 (that’s right, a week after the letter was dated) and I didn’t even get the thing until today (June 7).

I knew going into this treatment program that my insurance, which is medicaid and so is paid by the state, would only cover my treatment for six months. My doctor, who deals with a lot of peeps like me told me that they always grant an extent ion for a second six months and so we’ve been working from that assumption. We agreed together that I would use the second six months of my treatment to taper off of Suboxone because he thinks that a slow taper with plenty of time to stabilize between reductions leads to a better chance of success.

Right now, I’m just hoping that this is a formality, and that they categorically deny all first requests for an extention. My doc seemed so sure that I would get the extention, we didn’t even discuss what would happen if I didn’t. The one doubt that’s eating at me is that last month my prescription was held up for about a week. I heard this was because the state had become aware that the majority of people who were getting Suboxone on Medicaid’s dime weren’t in therapy or treatment, which is not ok, and they’d decided to finally enforce that rule. Now I’m left to hope that they haven’t decided to be more strict about the six months rule.

It would make sense if they are cracking down; Suboxone is an expensive drug and these are hard times.

I’m not freaking out though. In fact, I feel strangely calm.  If they do cut me off on the 19th, it will suck because my next refill is due on the 20th, but I’ll be ok. If things turn out badly with the appeal, I’ll just borrow money to pay for my scripts until I can get safely tapered off. I’ve got a backup plan and an understanding doctor, so I’ll be allright. I just hope I don’t have to pencil “go through withdrawals” into my datebook anytime soon.

I do find it ironic though, that the state would want to cut me off of the one treatment that has stabilized me so much. I no longer take anxiety meds or the hideously expensive migraine medication that I used to take, and I’m at the doctor’s office far less than I was when I was using. And despite what they say about “evidence based” practices, I’ve read that the best outcomes for Suboxone treatment are people who use it long-term. But I long ago stopped expecting things to make sense, so I’m not suprised.

This is yet another opportunity to see how I’ve grown. If this had happened just a few months ago, I’d be freaking out right now. I’m learning to not make a big deal out of things until they become a big deal, and I’m starting to trust that I will be able to handle my life – even when it gets hard, and without turing to a chemical escape. I like this feeling of competence. I do believe it’s one of the rewards of the hard work I’ve been doing, and I intend to enjoy it.

Other than being put on notice by the medical beaurecrats, I had a lovely day today. Little C and I went to a birthday party in the park, and the rain even held off until the end of the day. A&J and I got a chance to catch up and the fresh air did me right. Now I need to buckle down and work on some Logic proofs – quiz Monday and Final Exam on Wednesday. Then I’m free for the summer, oh joy!

 

Fat Girl Does Backbend, Shocks Yoga Instructor…

I almost didn’t go into the class. I stood on the threshold, looking anxiously around the dimly-lit studio, assessing the situation. This was not my regular yoga class, not my usual yoga instructor, and I was feeling deeply unsure that this class was going to work out well for me.

Why the trepidation, especially when I love yoga so very dearly?

Well everyone in the class was skinny. And there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just that I’ve noticed that the kind of yoga instructors who are good at adapting yoga poses to different body types tend to attract students of different body types. When I see a class full of wiry students, taught by a wiry teacher, I get a little nervous.

But I really wanted a yoga session that day and this was the only one on the menu. So I went in and plopped my fat booty down on a mat and hoped for the best.

Things started off all-right, with some chanting of Om’s and a bit of centering meditation. Then we started right in with some flows. The teacher was exactly as I feared he would be – presenting every pose in exactly one way and not giving any modifications or any instructions or assistance for those of us who needed props to get the job done. He seemed like a totally nice and chill dude, and he was great at demonstrating the asanas. And he made a point to call out the few students who were especially strong and flexible for their good work.

But. When it came to telling me how to make a pose work for my body, he totally wiffed. Lucky for me, I’ve been practicing yoga for a long time and I have some experience with modifying poses and using the props. Seriously, if this class (which was billed as all-levels) had been my introduction to yoga, I’d probably never have come back. You would think that if you loved something enough to teach it, you’d want to make it accessible to as many people as possible – but then again, I’m not doing so hot in my Logic class, so don’t trust my reasoning.

Things went from frustrating to uncomfortable when the teacher announced that we’d be doing some partner work. First up – some preparation for locust pose, in which one partner was to lay on her stomach while the other partner sat upon the prone partner’s legs and pulled her arms back (click the link and look at the picture!). Of course, I was freaking out that I was going to totally crush my tiny little partner or pull her arms out of their sockets or something – but it all worked out fine and she was way cool. Whew!

Then we worked on wheel pose, which is a backbend. We were supposed to spot our partners, which was no problem. My partner went first, and did a beautiful backbend. When my turn came, I was feeling pretty relaxed and groovy, because I’ve been working on this particular pose for a while. Just as I was ready to push up, the instructor finally noticed my existance and ran over to help my partner spot me. I guess he was afraid I might fall over and hurt her or she might bust a gut trying to life my fat ass, I don’t know…but he sure did book it over to us.

I did my backbend, and the instructor actually sputtered. He definitely seemed caught off-guard, and asked dubiously: Have you done this before? WTF? I didn’t know whether to be proud of myself for busting a stereotype or angry at him for being such a tool. I was keeping up with the class the whole hour, no thanks to him. Did he really think I was totally inexperienced? Is that how he treats all newcomers to yoga? Bah! (He did recoup minor credit for quickly recovering and telling me I did a “beautiful job.”)

In the end, I was feeling to good to be angry (thanks, yoga!) but I am definitely going to speak to him next time I take his class. I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt, and assume that he’s just not had many fat students. But he’s got one now, and he’s going to have to adapt and make sure that his class is safe and beneficial for me and any other fatties who might wander in.

And can I say how strong I am feeling in myself, and how glad and proud I am that I didn’t turn around and walk out of that class when I was having my moment of indecision? I have grown so much in the past six months, learning to take risks and even feeling ok to put myself into uncomfortable situations so that I can grow. This is pretty remarkable, considering that when I was abusing opiates, my main goal in life was to avoid any kind of discomfort whatsoever. And I’m rediscovering the things that I used to do to make myself feel “high” – by which I mean “happy.” It’s not always (ever) easy, and I know that I still owe a lot of my stability to suboxone, but I am feeling better than I have in years – and I love it.

Erin has a good post up right now about the ebbs and flows of recovery (and life in general). She makes a great point about doing the work we need to do when we’re feeling good and able to to it, because this is the work that will sustain us during the hard times. She’s totally right, and I’m so glad she reminded me of that. I’m definitely on an upswing right now, feeling the rewards of hard work I put in even when I really, really didn’t want to do a damn thing. And I’m fully aware that the wheel will cycle round again and the hard times will be back – but for now I’m going to soak in this feeling of happiness and well-being. It was hard-won, and I’m profoundly grateful for every moment of it.

FYI – So far in my practice I’ve found viniyoga to be the most fat-friendly, and it’s also my favorite type of yoga. Viniyoga is known for lots focus on breath, being gentle and having lots of modifications for poses for those of us who are not gumby. Viniyoga classes feel the most healing to me, and though it is a gentle yoga I always manage to get some really amazing stretching done as well. The thing I like about it the most though is that the focus is more on the process and feeling balance in your body and getting the most out of the movement – rather than just trying to force the poses.