Tag: Drugs

In Other News, Still An Addict

~ Lori Lynne ~ Leave a comment

This whole newly-published book thing, with all its ups and downs, is all very nice, but I can’t afford to forget what I am. I am one pill, drink, whatever away from falling back into a place that resembles the darkest chapters of my memoir. Or maybe worse. And I have mental health issues I can’t afford to neglect, lest I put myself at bigger risk for the above.

I see danger signs recently. Struggles with food aren’t that unusual, but there are others. Over the years, I’ve occasionally had to have painkillers for surgery or kidney stones, and that’s ok. We always control them tightly and keep me ultra-accountable, and usually it is fine. But there was one time a few months ago when I found myself blissing out a bit, even though I’d only been given the prescribed dose. And I enjoyed it. And there have been a few times lately that I’ve thought longingly of that feeling. And I found myself casting an envious eye on my daughter’s cannabis gummies she uses for her migraines, and thinking, wow, if I found the right strain I bet it would make me feel really good, and it’s legal and I wouldn’t need a prescription…***ALERT***ALERT***ALERT***

Damn. Writing it out like this makes it feel more real. I’m seeing the seriousness of it more. I have twelve years clean, and if I don’t get my shit together I could lose it all. How ironic would it be to have an inspirational book gaining readers while I’ve slid back into hell?

So what to do? Gee, let me think. Recovery fellowships aren’t perfect, but for me, they’re a damn sight better than trying to fix these thoughts alone. People talk about twelve steps, but right now my plan just has three: 1) Remove ass from whatever surface it’s currently on. 2) Transport ass to meeting. 3) Repeat.

Burning

~ Lori Lynne ~ Leave a comment

I am rediscovering my rage toward addiction.

I anthropomorphize the general phenomenon of addiction; many of us do. Especially as we struggle with abstaining, it can be helpful. You want to resent something? Resent that. You need somewhere to direct your rage, your hatred, your frustration? Hate the thing that wants you dead; that wants us dead. Hate the thing that wants to eat your soul and replace it with its eternal craving.

It’s not that we deny our responsibility for our situation or our duty to keep fighting. But in the midst of the humility we need to seek and find, sometimes we need to rebel. So yes, I welcome the rage and the rebellion sometimes.

I recently spent time in the hospital with an addict who has been on dialysis for years and has now just had open heart surgery. Still on methadone, she has the accompanying high tolerance for pain meds. I listened to her repeated begging for more medication as the pain resisted treatment. I watched her be in the power of nurses–some kind, some not–who questioned the validity of every request.

I watched her frail body curling in on itself, like a leaf curling and withering in a flame. I could almost see addiction as the fire in which she burned.

And I hated that fire.