I relapsed because I was spending too much time listening to other people and not enough time listening to myself. I felt bad about being on methadone and being in AA. Some people made comments, but mostly it was disparaging things that I read online on other recovery blogs and such. This prompted me to stop taking my methadone without detoxing. That was a really stupid idea. Within a week I started to get really really dopesick and ridiculously depressed. I felt like the sunshine had been sucked out of the fucking air, everything I saw was grey and pointless. Historically when I have felt like this I have dealt with it in one way, I self destruct. I remember when I relapsed I bought $20 worth of heroin and brought it back to my apartment. I sat and stared at the bag for a little while before cooking it up. Then I held the needle in my hand for some time before I actually did the shot. I remember looking at the shot and thinking 'I haven't relapsed yet' ... then I did it anyways. Later on after the high had worn off I called my sponsor in tears and told her what happened. She said that she had expected me to relapse and that it wasn't a surprise. Initially she invited me over to her house to hang out and talk but then changed her mind, probably because she has a nice house and didn't trust me to be there while I was in junkie mindset. After that I didn't talk to her for a couple days and she didn't call me. She said later that she was trying to give me space, but I didn't need space, I needed support. I stopped going to AA meetings and started hanging out on Haight street a lot smoking weed and drinking with street kids. Then I started selling meth, shortly thereafter heroin, and then I started using my own supply every now and then. Of course I got strung out again. That's the way the story goes.
Since then I have started a relationship with a boy named Dave. We have been together for about ten months. He is also an addict but we are both trying to get our shit together. He lives with me. He is a very talented artist with a million other skills who treats me with respect and kindness. He knows about my fucked up past and doesn't judge me for it. I have never felt so safe around anyone in my entire life. We have our issues but we are working on them. He brings out a kinder, more trusting side to me that I thought was lost years ago. Right now we are both on methadone again. I haven't been to an AA meeting since I relapsed. I don't plan on getting back into that scene. Right now I am focusing on my mental health and my financial situation trying to improve both. I started taking psych meds two months ago. I am in counseling and I am working on applying for SSI for my bipolar disorder and PTSD. My depression has been really bad the past few months and I've had a hard time leaving the apartment, sometimes even getting out of bed is a chore. Sometimes I don't feel like a real person, I feel numb and like my mind is completely blank, that's another reason I want to start writing again.
My birthday was June 20th and I turned 26. Three days later my father died. He had been battling liver cancer for almost five years. My father told me that one of his last wishes was to see me safe and to know that I would be okay. I am trying to keep this in the forefront of my mind. I miss my dad a lot. I don't have much else to say about that right now.
Me and my Dad in Arkansas a couple years ago.
I am going to try and write in this at least once a week. I'm going to try to write more honestly than before and to write for my own benefit as opposed to worrying about how what I write might be perceived. I do want to help other people with my story but I think I need to focus more on helping myself right now, because shit has been really fucked up. I don't want to give up on life but I can feel myself slipping away more and more each day. This is my way of trying to grab ahold of something. More later, thanks for reading.<3 Zenith Chasing
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