ONE REHAB....ONE HUNDRED RELAPSES

One rehab...one hundred relapses. Hardly seems worth it to most I'm sure. People may think "what a waste of money" or "it didn't help". But on the contrary. Relapses are an evil reality to addiction. Out of over fifty people that were in the Scientology-based rehab known as Narconon, every single one had relapses. Most during and after they got out. Some just during.....perhaps. I have not kept in touch with any of them so they may have fallen since.

For me at least, since rehab, relapses carry with them the burden of accountability . Prior to going through rehab, I called it "partying" not "relapsing". And i still don't know how long you have to be drug-free before your use is called a "relapse". I mean if you skip one day, you're not relapsing because you never really stopped. Is it ten days, thirty days?

No matter what, once out of rehab, the high was different when I used. It didn't come care-free. With it were countless thoughts of family, friends, tears, losses, self-loathing, disgust, even acts of self-mutilization. I never was a "cutter" in my life until I relapsed.

I didn't relapse once. I've been in an altered state at least one hundred times in three years. I know you're asking yourself "why?". Well, there's the mind-boggling question even for me. I mean, nothing ever good came out of getting high. Well, I'm not including marijuana in that because, I don't care what our government says, weed isn't bad. I don't currently smoke it. I mean what job doesn't drug test..other than a stripper. So, I can't out of necessity. Back to my point, I know "using" costs money, requires association with dealers who do not have my best interest in mind, it kills brain cells, thwarts health, diminishes emotional realities, promotes paranoia, consumes the mind, destroys trust, and harms every worthy relationship. There has never been a time, since became an addict, that these things did not occur.

When I say never...I mean NEVER EVER EVER. It is inevitable that tragedy is but moments away if I relapse. So, being a somewhat intelligent girl,with a heart as big as our galaxy, how in the hell is it that I'd relapse more than once?

Addiction is simply fascinating. Whether it be gambling after a past of losing everything or drinking again after years of sobriety, or smoking crack after almost dying from it, the addiction has a real power. It does live. I'm not crazy. But it has a will. No matter how resistant I may be and how many times I can dodge its temptations it will not die. It will lay dormant. It will wait.

Now, am I saying no one avoids relapses? No. There are many who find another addiction as a substitute; working out, God, skydiving, etc... I haven't found my "distraction" from my disease yet. Now don't misunderstand me, I am on a role these days and staying clean. Mostly because my mother died for me. Had her funeral not been at that time and my family had not witnessed my condition, it would have most certainly been my funeral within 2 weeks most!

But, a relapse is only one hit away. Not a thousand, not a pound, a kilo, a gram...just one hit. Just one little tiny hit is all it takes to own me again. And if you're an addict too, you are that close as well. You won't do it "just one more time". Have you ever? We don't end up as addicts because of our astonishing discipline and self-control, my friend. We're addicts because there is never one....there is only the first of so many more.

It might be sad to those who are free of addiction. They may never understand it. Hell, i don't even understand it. But I do have to accept it. It is my reality. It burdens all who enter my circle in some way. Everyone pays a consequence for caring about an addict. Some experience this pain for years repeatedly.

To them I say, thank you. I love you. I hate that I am sick with addiction and I hate that it slashes your throat and stabs your back. I do try to control it every second of every day. But sometimes, I just get exhausted. I am ever conscious of my plight and I vow to fight the fight. Though it may seem I may not always win every battle, the war is long and I'm in it to win it.

Addiction is a monster. Getting clean is only the beginning. Staying clean is the hum-dinger. As cliche as it sounds, it starts with one minute at a time. Before you know it you made it through the whole day. Don't hate yourself for relapsing, learn something. Love yourself a little more so it won't be quite so easy next time for that monster to stay quite so long. If you love yourself completely, addiction could not come around. Why would it? You wouldn't give it any satisfaction .

Rather than using your energy to focus on the hate....conjure up some love for you! You are an incredible being with magical powers granted to you by this Universe....All you have to do is recognize it. Keep fighting.

I BURIED MY "FRIEND"

I find it curious that most people in mainstream America define drug addicts as: unmotivated, loveless, joyless, useless, careless, selfish, and worthless. If I had a dollar for each of these adjectives when heard them used to describe an addict, I'd be financially secure for life.....

Truth be told, I used to see them through those eyes as well. I didn't expose myself to drugs until I was twenty-two years old. I just assumed everyone was right about the views of addicts. Even the sad stories, theft, violence, and heartbreak were not met with sympathy, but more like a "see, I told you "they" are horrible" attitude.

After metamorphosing into a full blown heroin addict, which took sixteen years of motivation, drive, energy, love, heart, soul, action, worth, joy, use, use and more use, creativity, friends, relationships, family, drama, desire, truth, lies, countless smiles and tears, and exceptional survival skills, I came to realize that addicts are far from different than any person I had ever known. They have an added "ingredient" (drugs) than the mainstream American.

With such "additions or ingredients" there are going to be "losses". But is this not true with all things? When a child is born into a marriage, is there not a loss of privacy, free time, independence, self, sex, time etc......?

No matter what you add there is a going to be a loss. For some, a baby is a "bundle of joy" and for others, they see a bundle of heroin as such. Perhaps what is added and lost vary...but perhaps not.

You can't control the child you bring into this world a hundred percent forever.....what if that child becomes a heroin addict? What is your "bundle of joy" then?? Loved, I'm sure: but joyous, not so much.

Well, my heroin had become that to me. I loved it so much and had a blast at first, when my "addiction" to that drug was "born"....but as it grew up and I lost control, I still loved it but it was breaking me and steeling from me and deceiving me. I couldn't ever be free.

With the death of a loved-one there is much grief, confusion, denial, sadness, anger, questioning, love, broken hearts, and an emptiness. If that loved one brought you immeasurable pain, lies, broken promises, stolen dreams, pain and suffering, violence, heartache, terror, as well as, happy memories, smiles, relationships, comfort, company, hope, joy, inspiration, and contentment would you not still cry at the loss? If you ever "loved" that person....wouldn't you probably make futile attempts at making sense of it all? Would you have regrets of things you should have said or done....even once?

When I lost my habit.....I lost my best-worst friend or worst-best friend...depending on the moment. Addiction is alive. It is an entity that lives inside you. When it "dies" it's always with you....like a "loved" one. It never truly leaves as long as you remember it.

And occasionally, every once and a while, you think you hear it or see it again. You may dream of it like it's still here.

But just like the loss of a family member or friend, digging it up out of the grave will not prove to satisfy you as it used to. It would be rather disturbing and provoke nightmares....

let it rest in peace. It's in a better place now...than it was when it was alive...Time to move-on.

WE STARTED USING AND STOPPED CARING

At first glance I knew I loved this guy. This guy's name....Dietrich. I was working at the club and he came in and sat at the end of the stage facing the dressing room. What began as a glance, soon flourished into a friendship that would pale all others and a love that will never be matched.

He and I had something in common. We were loners. I had a boyfriend at the time, Timmy. He was eighteen and troubled, but he was all mine. We had a lot of problems including violence and infidelity on his part. But I had no intention of cheating or leaving. That was just not my style.

Dietrich soon became my best friend ever. I could be 100% myself around him. I could be naked around him and I never had to worry about him pawing at me or even looking at me with lust. He protected me from everything and everyone bad.

This man came to my rescue countless times when I was in trouble. When Timmy's violent temper escalated, it was Dietrich that took matters in his own hands and kicked some ass.

I guess it was destined that after Timmy cheated for the ninth time, he'd finally leave me. And, also destined, Dietrich and I would end up as lovers. Lovers is a strong word for us really. He never stopped being my friend. And occasionally we would have sex. "Captain Cannon...." well I won't finish the last word, but this was a pet name for his, ahhhhh, asset, so to speak.

Anyway, we experimented with drugs, drugs, drugs, drugs, and more drugs. He was the one who turned me on to Oxycontin's. Whew! What a ride. What a very bad ride!

We ate pain pills and Xanax like they were Skittles and M&M's. We smoked so much cocaine I don't think my lungs would have even recognized fresh oxygen. And we snorted pills, snorted blow, snorted MDMA (molly), AND snorted heroin. We snorted so much, poor Dietrich ate a whole right through his nose. That was a funny discovery. I have to tell you.

He was blowing his nose and had to clean it out. Probably had some serious pill residue stuck up there. Anyway, he put a Q-tip in and suddenly his eyes opened so wide I thought they might pop right out! He poked the Q-tip through and was like "Holy Sh*t....CHECK THIS SH*T OUT!!!!! Later he asked, how much crap does someone gotta snort to have eaten a hole through his nose? Guess what, it never healed.

Anyway,we soon managed to pawn and sell everything of value. It was the crack that inspired that great idea. We lost so much. We even sold his truck.

As bad as things were, we were in denial. Absolutely! We were living in an amazing 3 bedroom house with our two pit bulls and my fifteen cats. At least that house had enough room for a family of nineteen.

I guess I was getting bored with the same old drugs done the same old ways. So, a friend, named Liz, turned me on to the idea of the needle. Now Dietrich was so anti-needle saying the word would make him pale.

Keeping with our insane"balls to the wall" attitude, fear of needles was brief! We tried it, liked it, loved, it, hated it but kept using it, hated ourselves, and eventually stopped caring for each other.

There are a million stories Dietrich and I share. And our friendship survived through so much crap that it must be real.

Truth be told, I love that man. I'm clean today and he's clean today.

I cant' help but wonder what splendor would have risen, had we not destroyed ourselves for drugs.

I love you, Dietrich. I miss us.