Tempted

Day 12 and I’ve not had any pharmacy bought pain killers and stuck to no more than three of my prescription ones a day. In fact I even did two days with only two. After a few days I got over the flu like symptoms, I don’t feel like a half shut knife maybe only a quarter shut and my purse is that big heavier. In all honesty I was spending between £30 and £40 per week. Nuts! The genuine pain I have is no better but it’s also no worse. Just confirms how your body gets tolerant and you need more and more.

I have to remember always that I have been here before. Many times. I just want this to be the last time. So many people think I have it together, that I’ve cracked this addiction nonsense but truth is I still struggle. It takes work and hyper vigilance to keep the complacency in check. Complacency is my biggest challenge. It’s in those flick the switch moments that complacency takes control.

‘You’ve stopped before so you can stop again’, the inner voice says.

It makes no sense that I can experience really bad things happening like my dad dying, my daughter’s struggle with mental health and suicidal ideation also my mum’s Alzheimer’s and not drink or take any medication but when I do listen to that voice and act on it it seems to be in those moments that nothing of any significance is happening. Then again unconsciously it is. It must be. People tell me how strong I am and I know I am but sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed, torn between who needs me more, trying to be all things to everyone, keeping in touch with people when all I want to do is retreat into a cocoon away from the world. One thing being alcohol free has shown me is that I am much more introverted than I ever thought I was. I was brought up to view being introverted as a weakness, a personality flaw because that’s what my Nana believed. Her intolerance to anyone different to her belief system and opinions or who didn’t dress or present themselves as she thought they should was scorned and viewed with contempt and I don’t use that word lightly. She was harsh, intolerant and unforgiving of peoples differences yet through all the hatred I had for her so often I also loved her. She was someone you wanted in your corner but then that could be said of any abuser another word not used with a lightness of touch.

Alcohol gave me confidence and a couldn’t care less attitude. Alcohol turned me into an extrovert but that wasn’t my natural state. In my latter drinking years most of my consumption was on my own. Large quantities with a side order of pain killers was typical for me 3,4 sometimes 5 nights a week. I enjoyed my own company. I liked being on my own. I liked it even better when I was pissed. Having a party with myself where I was the main attraction, the life and soul, wanted and I always got the guy. The reality was the complete opposite. Being sober taught me that I was ok with that reality. That Laverne was someone else’s expectation. Getting drunk moulded me into that expectation when in truth I didn’t want it. I was happy being quiet, in smaller groups, louder when I felt confidence and desire to do so but not feeling like I was less worthy if I chose to retreat.

Nine years since I have had a drink. I have been through the worst of times and still haven’t but I know that I could never go back to it. I don’t want to and yet sometimes even now I am taken off guard. Something comes up from the murky depths and I just wonder what it would be like. It happened on Monday evening. I was sleeping over at my mums as she had a hospital appointment the following morning and she struggles getting ready for such things and gets very confused, muddled and anxious. She had gone to bed and I was in the lounge. I felt such melancholia. My dads ashes in the urn by the fireplace, photos in frames of my Nana, the sound of the wall clock ticking, familiar ornaments I remember from my childhood. Memories everywhere. Then my eyes fell on two decanters each containing whisky. They’ve sat there with that same whisky in them for years. When I visit I usually sit in the chair nearest them. I never give them a second thought but on Monday I did. I gave them a second, third and fourth thought. For around a few minutes I toyed with the notion of drinking the contents. It would be around a total of just around two thirds of a bottle. Imagine having one of those nights to myself like I used to have. The warm calming feeling of the whisky travelling down into my stomach. Getting some tunes on, indulge in snacks have a bit of a dance and a fantasy social event. I mean what would it be like? Would I be able to do that and not want to do it again? Then as suddenly as the idea had popped into my head it was gone. No, no, no. It’s not what I do. I don’t drink. Ever! One thing is for sure if I thought the guilt I used to feel after drinking was bad enough all those years ago imagine it if I had acted on such a temptation as this now. Oh and I know it wouldn’t be a one off event.

I can’t remember the last time I had felt like that. To be honest I can’t remember the last time I was in a situation where I was essentially alone with alcohol that I could consume and no one would have needed to know but I would have and it was that which stopped me.

I need to keep doing what I’m doing. Be honest, open and allow myself to be vulnerable. Being strong is all well and good but sometimes all I feel is scared, lost with an overwhelming want to scream. I get anxious every day thinking about not being strong enough when things get worse for my mum. Will I be able to keep it together. Losing her bit by bit is heartbreaking and so cruel. It’s such a horrible disease.

One thing is for sure the strength I do need I won’t find at the bottom of a glass of Solpadeine Max with a side order of Nurofen Plus and a dihydrocodeine chaser.

Got to keep on keeping on.

Till later x

Got to be kind to this little girl. She’s still in there. Miss your smile and infectious laugh Daddy x

Intro

It’s been a long time since I have written. In fact the last time was almost 4 years ago when I confessed to my penchant for opioid analgesia.

There we have it. No wasting time.

Straight in with an embellished, crude glamourisation of my dirty habit.

So much has happened since that time but one thing that sadly and infuriatingly continues is that certain penchant. Sometimes it makes no sense and other times it makes total sense but one thing is clear I’m an addict.

People will look at me and think I must be talking rubbish, that I’m just overdramatising and attention seeking. Maybe I am a little bit with the latter but what I am seeking is truth, honesty, and to be authentic as is the way these days.

Nine years ago I stopped drinking alcohol. One of the biggest supports was writing ( daily in the beginning) about my feelings, anxieties and how hard it was. By getting it out of my head it somehow focussed me and gave me clarity to why I was doing it. The support I had from people who took the time to read my posts was hugely important too, encouraging me to keep going plus on occasion reaching out to say they felt they were drinking too much too and they took inspiration from me. There is no denying that to receive that kind of support and feedback is very inspirational for me and gives me huge incentive not to give up.

So here I am again. Using the tool of writing. I know with how life is now that daily posts would be too tall an order but I will aim for at least weekly. I have to discipline myself. I need to get it out of my head and onto the page.

If you are reading this ramble now thank you for doing so. I really appreciate you taking the time. I’ll sign off for now. More to follow.

Till later x

Coming Clean

This picture depicts how I have felt all too often about myself. Frustration, dismay, anger. How at times I have just wanted to scream and punch something again and again and again. It’s the emotions of finding myself back in a place I have fought so hard to break away from only to be back there but this time a little bit worse. I get it now. I can’t go near. Just like alcohol I have to stay away. It’s the only way. So I’m coming clean. I’m fessing up. I’m owning it and any other buzz phrase that admits to basically fucking up.

I lay my stash bare. I lay it out for all to see.

A right concoction. Ashamed to admit a lot of it ill gotten gains. But I think I understand now. It’s not about being free of the drug or drink, it’s about being free of the lifelong self belief that I am not enough. That I need to be something more or different. That who I am needs altered.

I mean how many times do I need to go through fake flu and endless soul searching to stay off completely? I can’t say this time will be the last time because I’ve said it so many times before. I can only try again. I can only do my best. I can only be who I am.

I can’t give up trying. I mustn’t. I need to believe that the next time will be the last time. I’m coming clean to become clean.

Night night x

A Few Steps Away

Today the 1st April marks 5 years of being alcohol free. I took my last swig of straight vodka at 23.59 on Monday 31st March 2014. I have written extensively about that here ever since but each anniversary and milestone I feel needs special consideration. I have never shied away from being truthful about my relationship with alcohol and other addictive behaviours so I’m not going to lie now. 5 years of alcohol sobriety but fallen off the wagon again with the other. Codeine. It’s like that Gillian Welch song ‘My Morphine’. Opiate just a lower strength. Oh yes I’ll kick it into touch again going through yet another week of flu like symptoms and much positive thinking mantras with the eternal hope that this time I’ll stay off completely. This time I’ll do it. This time will be the last time.

It’s funny how life has a way of throwing curveballs into your here and now. Whether it be a toxic ex who doesn’t deserve your headspace, being offered a glass of champagne at 11am on the train ( 5 years ago I would have demanded the bottle), or the enormous guilt on Mother’s Day of counting down the minutes till your kids have gone to their dad’s and you’ll finally be on your own but when the curveball is profound and life affirming that’s when a piece of life’s jigsaw puzzle falls into place and maybe just maybe the bigger picture becomes a little clearer.

Whilst out last night in Manchester I stopped off at an independent fast food chicken restaurant with my youngest for some dinner. Wasn’t my first choice but truth be told the food was incredible. North African and Asian cooking. Freshly cooked in front of us with amazing spices, lovely people, and well priced. We ordered a few dishes not realising how much food there would be and as we were tucking in realised we’d need to ask for a doggy bag.

During that time a homeless guy had come in and after a chat ( they clearly knew him) he was given some freshly cooked spicy chicken, rice and peas. I realised I was watching him when my daughter asked why I was staring at the homeless man so I quickly averted my eyes. I had been watching him. It was a joy to watch him thank the chef and waiting staff sincerely for the foil tray of piping hot food, sit at one of the high tables and savour the aroma for a good 30 seconds before taking his first mouthful. Looking at our over indulgent left overs Angelina suggested we give them to him. At first I said no as had planned to take them to my son Max who had stayed back at the hotel but as he had already eaten I thought maybe she was right. This guy could do with them more. As he made his way to leave I spoke to him as he walked behind me towards the door. I offered him the food saying we had far too much and he’d be welcome to share it with us. Thankful and touched he accepted and sat at the table next to ours. The three of us started to chat. We talked and ate together for about 20 minutes. We chatted about our home towns, family or lack of them, the amazing food in this restaurant, homelessness, hostels, and Mother’s Day. He revealed that today was going to be his birthday. His first on the streets. I asked him how long he’d been homeless. He answered just over six months. He showed me the money he had got together that day to pay for a hostel for the night. In all that he was upbeat, positive and thankful. He bid us goodnight and said it had been great to chat with us. Angelina and I both looked at each other. It was like we both knew what the other was thinking. As he headed out the door I got up and ran after him. Angelina at my heels.

‘Wait!’

He stopped and turned round. ‘Please take this’ as I reached out £20. He put his hand on his chest, stepped back and shaking his head said ‘ please no, I can’t’. I insisted and heard Angelina say ‘ please you deserve it’. He stood staring at us his eyes full of tears. Our eyes were brimming over too. He asked if he could hug us and we happily agreed. The three of us, strangers standing on a street in Manchester, a place none of us were from were in that moment indescribably and profoundly connected. We exchanged names and hugged again and again. Exchanging words of kindness, compassion, understanding, and support we left each other all the richer for the experience and interaction. Angelina took my arm as we walked away and I started to cry. She stopped me and hugged me. It was a special moment I will never forget.

It is all too easy to judge a person. To take one look and make huge assumptions. He like anyone else that finds themselves at the mercy of the streets is foremost a human with thoughts, feelings and emotions. He like anyone else has a back story that leads us to this point in time. He like anyone else is doing the best he can with the tools he is given. He like anyone else has feelings, hopes and desires. He like anyone else wants to feel and be treated with fairness, tolerance and without judgment.

Sometimes we are hanging on to the wagon for dear life but the bumps along the road are just too great and unpredictable causing us to lose our grip. To fall off isn’t to fail. There is so much to be gained from learning that to err is to be human.

Christopher, I hope your birthday was underpinned with the knowledge that two lassies from Scotland were profoundly moved by their connection with you. I said to you this is only one chapter of your life. It’s a bloody tough chapter but it doesn’t mean it’s the end of your story. We are all just a few steps away from losing everything. Sometimes the fall off the wagon seems insurmountable but the will to keep trying is where the strength lies.

Night night x

Lost Footing

I got lost. I stumbled and lost my footing. I faltered. I strayed from the path.

I’m not going to hide it. I can’t. I can justify it. I was and continue to be in pain. A pain that interrupts sleep. A pain that causes you to hold your breath. A pain that is relentless. I was struggling and I gave in. I reached out in genuine need but straight away old habits became the focus and drive. I automatically fell into justifying mode with a big scoop of denial and a sprinkle of self pity.

Trying to convince myself that it’s only for short term use. It’s only for the recommended three day usage. I’ll stick to the dose. It’s because I’ve got no choice. Thing is there is a choice. There’s always a choice. I chose to give myself permission to use again knowing full well that they don’t even help the pain when it’s there. Within the first day I was taking them in what can only be described as a secretive and recreational way but it’s ok because I’ll just stop again I told myself. When will I stop and stay stopped? So once more day one awaits on the other side of sleep. I just have to keep on going and if I stumble and lose my footing again then I start once more.

I must not give up finding my way.

Night night x

A tough gig

This weekend has been a tough gig. It’s almost broken me emotionally, physically and spiritually. Struggling with pain, a needy puppy, a daughter with attachment issues and a son struggling to find his place in it all I have found myself limping the dog round the block sobbing in despair with what the fuck to do. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with others needs that I don’t take care of my own emotional health or in the case of my daughter I’m not allowed to.

I can’t yet begin to process this week but safe to say I can’t wait till it’s over. What is quite remarkable though is I’ve kept clean. No matter how close I was to buying Solpadeine Max today or accepting the locum gp’s suggestion of prescribing me codeine I didn’t do it. I stayed resolute.

Yes it’s been a tough gig and something tells me that’s not the tour over but if I can stand on stage and sing in Bilston Workman’s Club whilst the local audience chat the whole way through then I’m made of tough stuff.

I might be feeling washed out, vulnerable and in pain but I didn’t take anything. Not one thing.

Night night x

Creeps Up

You’d think after almost 5 years of alcohol abstinence that I’d be past any significant craving, however, the drive was strong on and off for about an hour tonight.

I’m operating substance free. Well if you don’t count Oil of Evening Primrose, anti inflammatories and antidepressants as substances. What I mean is no mind or personality altering substances. I make myself sound like an automaton devoid of human emotion and working methodically without sense but that’s not the case. I have to focus, keep busy, change my routine somewhat to break habits at the same time treating myself with compassion and kindness when the struggle manifests itself; allowing myself to feel the surge of craving a quick fix. To feel the warmth ripple through me as I glug back the alcohol accompanied with the carefree liberation of giving less of a fuck or the euphoric hit after around 15 minutes of popping 60-80mg of codeine along with 3 or 4 paracetamol. Or the crazy hazy daze of doing both!

There was one solitary can of lager hidden in the fridge vegetable drawer left over from a family gathering a couple of weeks ago. I had never really given it another thought and felt sure it could just stay there and would stay there until at least Christmas 2019 but tonight the drive to crack it open was strong.

I found myself starting to weigh up the pros and cons if I drank it but quickly made a snap decision to remove the temptation. I did crack it open but poured it down the sink.

I’m not ashamed to say that I gave the empty can a good sniff after and the smell of the lager on the cold metal did conjure up a strong desire. I found myself leaning on the kitchen window sill, resting my head in my hands and staring out the window taking deep breathes and counting.

After a couple of minutes it passed.

After an hour I started to write this.

After tonight that’s another day free.

Night night x

Right here and now.

It’s been exactly two weeks since I last took an opioid. I can try to be blasé about it but truth is this is about the fifth time I’ve been here. This seems to be one I return to like an abused lover who keeps going back because it seems easier to keep things as they are and their self worth being so low makes them believe that they are nothing without the toxic element even though they know it’s destroying them. Cheerful thinking and one way to look at it. I could of course put a positive spin on the past two weeks reflecting on what I have achieved and looking ahead with strength and not predict some relapse leaving me back at the starting block again with high heels on.

On Wednesday I reach the official mark of another year older. It’s funny how we age but so true that we don’t inside our feelings so often. The past two weeks has been full high emotion, great expectations followed by disappointment, many laughs and quite a few tears… in other words life. This life has always been so. What’s different is my coping mechanisms. Today I feel under par; dissatisfied with a certain situation. That’s the difference. I feel. I’m not masking. I’m not ignoring. I’m not denying. I’m feeling. As uncomfortable as it is I am allowing those feelings to come out and I’m treating them with kindness.

I used to think that being kind to myself was getting drunk or almost comatose with medication- in the past sometimes both – but that wasn’t me practicing self kindness at all. Where was the nourishment? The love? The understanding? The courage? The resilience? As much as I sit here and so often have the overwhelming drive to lose myself in oblivion I can see that what I was doing was be on the road to losing myself completely.

Yes life can hurt, frustrate, anger, and disappoint and lead you to question your own self but it is life. It is living. And right here and now I don’t want it any other way. Right here and now it’s love and compassion for the little girl inside this woman. Right here and now is all hers.

She is here now and it’s right.

X

Renewing

Yesterday I couldn’t get my self focussed to write. I got through work and was thankful for being there as it took my mind off the flu like feeling and mood swings but by 8pm I was in bed and zonked out. I woke up around midnight realising I hadn’t turned off any lights, brushed my teeth, sorted stuff out for the full work day ahead and more importantly that the kids and now the puppy were coming back. Self care is all well and good when you only have you to care about the next four days are the real challenge.

Feeling like I’d been hit over the head with at least three rolled up copies of Marie Claire I went about my business and eventually fell back into bed. There I lay and I lay and I lay. The restless leg – hell no – body syndrome began. I didn’t know what to do with myself except constantly move and wriggle and turn. The excruciatingly infuriating necessity to move constantly makes me want to scream. It’s like my veins are writhing and jumping and it’s all I can think about.

Anyway somehow I must have fallen back to sleep as the intense dreaming started. I’ve noticed that before when I’ve stopped taking them that I have very vivid intense dreams that although not necessarily nightmarish can still leave me unsettled on waking and underpin my day ahead. All part of the process and shows what a huge control any kind of opioid has over a person. My understanding from the reading I’ve done is the drug effects certain neurotransmitters in the brain that send pain signals and after prolonged use the cells in the body can’t function without the drug as the brain isn’t giving the correct signals so part of the withdrawal is the cells renewing themselves and your brain learning to send the correct signals again – kind of like rewiring. So once your mind and body need the drug to function the tolerance to the original dose becomes higher so you require more and more.

It’s actually quite incredible how are bodies naturally function and astonishing that we seem to look for artificial ways to alter that natural awesomeness or in my case and with countless others abuse it.

So welcome day 3. The physical feelings of withdrawal I will try to see as my body taking care of me and renewing itself. That’s the easy part. The rewiring of the brain is the real long term work.

X

Day 3

A New Mountain

The 1st of April this year marks my 5 year anniversary of stopping drinking alcohol. It is hard to believe and sometimes I still get the overwhelming desire to throw alcohol down my throat, get pissed as quickly as possible, not give a damn but I sit with it, I let it be, then I let it go. I trust in myself, the process, the recovery work and the universe. Being teetotal has become me, who I am but as I have written before (naively thinking I had cracked it) alcohol abuse is just one string to my addiction bow.

It’s not the first time I have “come clean” about this but it is the first time ( like alcohol back in 2014) that I am writing openly about it holding my hands up and putting it out there. Even though I attended SMART recovery meetings for 18 months and eventually stopped I still started to reuse and stop again and again. Each time more fervently and physically and psychologically controlling probably under the illusion that ‘ hey I’ve stopped before. I can do it again’.

Having my mum act as a drug supplier isn’t fair and puts her in a very difficult situation. Doing the rounds of pharmacies so as not to be “too regular” purchasing the highest strength tablets containing codeine I can get and letting myself into my parents home when they are unaware with the sole intention (and there’s no easy way to put this) steal medication to keep my supply topped up is unacceptable. Being aware that the amounts of paracetamol and ibuprofen that is mixed with these preparations is at least double the recommended daily dose and it’s only a matter of time before my liver and kidneys become affected and my tolerance to the opiate higher resulting in my craving more and more. Knowing that ‘it won’t happen to me’ just won’t wash anymore.

So this is day one of a new peak. It doesn’t matter if 1 or 100 people read what I write it’s getting it out of me and owning my addictive behaviour. I’ve not had any codeine since 10pm last night and started with mild withdrawal symptoms around 1pm today. The usual – upset stomach, diarrhoea, shivering, dizziness, goosebumps etc but I know I can get through that. It’s staying off that’s bloody hard but I really bloody want to. I bloody have to.

So kindness to myself and early to bed.

Night night x

Day 1