It’s almost midnight and I’m actively trying to recruit my friend to pick me up to drive me to a bar to drink with me… even though I have work tomorrow. So I’m writing this high on some weed I smoked with a complete stranger who I met at this group addiction meeting. I feel like a fuck up and a failure as my therapist runs the meeting and she let me go for free and I fucked things up.
The meeting really made me question my use of drugs but also made me so scared to be sober. I hate myself when I use drugs but I hate myself and I hate living when I’m sober. It’s almost like self treatment for depression. I can’t stand feeling the way I do and drugs feel like an escape. Anyway, at the meeting we just kept talking about drugs, everyone, and their use, and the consequences, and of course all I wanted to do was use drugs because I felt so anxious and depressed about the course of my life. They say the only three places addicts end up are Jail, Institutions, or Dead. And what about people with concurrent disorders? Jail, Institution, Death, Suicide? What the fuck is this reality?
So after the meeting my therapist was going to drive me home but instead this other guy offered to as he lived in the same area. I went with him. In the meeting he had shared that he still drinks and smokes weed, but has quit opiates and other drugs, so I mentioned how the only reason I wasn’t high yet that day was because of the meeting. Then he told me, as he is driving away, that he was a little drunk at the meeting, and then drank some whiskey while driving and offered some to me. I said no, I don’t know why I said no, but then I offered to smoke him off as a sort of payment for the ride… So I smoked him up with weed and fucked things up because now I’ve made this safe space group meeting just as bad as the goddamn methadone clinic by enabling someone who has been trying to get sober way longer than I ever tried.
So of course my thoughts after something like this:
I’m a complete monster
I deserve to die
I will never be able to get sober
I don’t deserve sobriety
I will end up alone
I don’t deserve this therapist
I should just buy coke
I shouldn’t be alive
The depression will never end
I will always feel this way
I hate my head and I hate how fucking scared and helpless I am when it comes to the idea of simply dealing with life as a sober person. Like I can’t function or deal with the stimulus and my environment and what’s happening in my life unless I’m high 24/7? Fuck this shit. I’m sorry for swearing I’m in an awful place. Love you guys
6 comments
Sobriety is a journey not a destination. I tend to take quit a few side trips along the way. How are you doing today?
Hi HDS, Thank you for responding. I feel like when it’s about drugs no one responds but then you did! Today is rough, smoked before work and during work and then had two drinks when I left… The more I talk about getting sober the more I seem to crave drugs. But how are you?
Got through mother’s day and remember the whole day. Banner day. Doing a decent job of not just drinking constantly to handle stress, paranoia and rage. I try to pay special attention to the people who are struggling with drinking or using drugs. Some are just fine with it and some, like you, are trying to find a way to handle the fuckcrazyshitstorm of life no black out drunk. So I totally get it.
well I’m headed to bed. I’ll be around tomorrow if you want to talk about the perils of sobriety.
Good Night, sleep well.
I just had a Club Sandwich, man it was good. You can’t go wrong with a good club sandwich. It’s probably the classiest sandwich ever. It’s cut into fours and each section has its own toothpick. (Classy). Very tasty, too.
I wouldn’t mind if Club Sandwiches were the only food selection at the bar after 8:00 PM. Wouldn’t bother me a bit.
The toothpicks have those fancy plastic frilly things on the end of them at the classier places. Or tiny swords. I feel like a pirate eating a club sandwich held together with tiny swords. One for me and one for each of my sworn enemies. Or musketeers.