I’m having a week off work, from my main job anyway. B isn’t, it’s just me and the dog staying home for a week. This is the first real time off I’ve had since Christmas, and spookily it’s almost exactly a year since I last had a random week off like this, and that was the week I stuck a needle in my arm for the last time. I hadn’t planned it that way a few weeks back when I booked it off work, it just happened.
The week will also be the anniversary of one of the worse events of my whole breakdown, I’ve written about it before, it included clinging to a farm gate screaming at myself not to step out in front of the next passing car. That’s all I’m gonna say about that right now.
These things are on my mind, also on my mind is the fact that I could easily use the time to find someone online to get wasted and fuck with. I could hook up with someone and maybe just smoke some tina, wouldn’t have to slam, just smoke some. I could feel that smooth sensation of the drug in my lungs, my barriers would come down. My sense of right, wrong, and simply of what is sensible will float away with that white smoke.
And then on the next day I’d be back online, this time would be okay, find someone to just have a small slam with, just a small one wouldn’t hurt. I could once more feel that fucking rush as the drug hit my brain, smashing into me like a nuclear bomb going off all over my body. Hey fuck it, yeah let’s do another slam, B won’t be home for another three hours, plenty of time, let’s get utterly fucking wankered. Let’s just fuck like animals.
That rush is so intense, it’s not like a line of coke, or smoking a spliff, I’ve done lots of different drugs but there is nothing to compare to slamming tina, it turns everything up to 500%, it blows the roof off the entire world in an instant. Those moments are when the addiction starts, it’s all encompassing, if you’ve never experienced it you wouldn’t understand and I hope you never do.
Of course I’d soon begin to realise B will be home soon, shit I can’t let him know I’m high again. Best I get to bed and tell him I’m not well, or maybe I’ll just wing it, I’m not really that high, he’ll never realise…….will he ?
Then I’d realise it’s all started again, the paranoia would hit me once more. I’ve gone too far and crossed a line, feelings would come flooding back. But would the drug have a grip on me again? Would I be able to stop again? That rush is so intense, the ritual of injecting almost religious, prepping the syringe, tying my arm off, finding that vein I know I can always hit, pulling the plunger back and seeing that amazing flash of blood, then watching it disappear inside me.
It could all so easily take over my life again. The thousands of pounds wasted, the lies, the risks, the complete and utter loss of self respect. My mental health wouldn’t be able to cope with that again. It wouldn’t be a relapse, a relapse to me suggests a brief trip back into addiction followed by a return to the path of recovery. This wouldn’t be that, why?, because I don’t think I’d be able to stop, it would only take once and I’d be back on that terrible path, a path it took so much devastation to get off of last time, next time the devastation would be complete and I don’t think I’d survive, I wouldn’t deserve to.
So this week I have off, I need to find other things to do. I’d love to meet up with people, with friends, but I don’t know how to have friends anymore. For years I’ve only been interested in people for drugs and sex. I now have people in my life who’d I’d like to build friendships with, but I truly don’t know how, I lack the skills to do so. I can’t even manage to keep in touch with people so how can I build a lasting friendship with them. I have a lack of social skills which frightens me.
I guess I still have a lot to learn from my recovery, and I think the toughest thing I need to learn is that I can get through a week of “me time” without resorting to the needle again……sounds so simple doesn’t it.