Built to Suffer – Addicts/Alcoholics

Note: I would love to hear from the rest of the addict community out there what they found to be their breaking point or share some experience with the damn cycle of relapse. Someone recently echoed my sentiments from bygone years…some of us are only allowed further suffering. There are existences that truly prove death to be a relief – active addiction is a great example. Please share, I know I’m not the only lunatic, chronic relapsing, seemingly deathwished addict out there having adventures when they want boring….I think. Thanks! -s

To anyone who ho has been following this blog, my apologies for the extended delay in posting….it has been a remarkably fucked up couple weeks.

I relapsed. I overdosed 3 hours after leaving one detox and was thrown from the car I was in onto someones front lawn. The police were called and I was resuscitated.

I left the hospital and went back to the house of the “friends” who had chucked me out and went on a coke shooting binge.

Two days later I had found a bed at another detox. Unfortunately, I use with the same intensity that I do everything else…so while it wasn’t an extended run, it was more than my body could handle.

When I showed up, my green haired angel started to help me get in and I simply collapsed. The ambulance took me to another hospital where it was found that I did indeed have an abscess forming on one arm, a blood clot on the other with the beginning of cellulitis, and most importantly, my kidneys were failing and there was concern that dialysis would be needed.

Makes sense when you consider that I hadn’t had anything to drink other than some wine in about 3 or 4 days.

I had been hallucinating earlier in the day which should have been a big warning. I had a conversation with a man while walking down a road about the quality of the train system running to Philadelphia…after blinking it was a bit frightening to find that in reality I had been standing still and there was no one there.

Took me right back to the meth days.

Eventually I left that hospital…lost my mind at the doctor for reasons I don’t fully understand. That miserable fucking shit sack decided that since I was leaving AMA he was not going to give me a prescription for antibiotics despite the fact they were giving them to me IV and as Bactrim pills. Not very positive karma from my side, but I hope he finds himself in a position someday where the hippocratic oath he took is ignored in the same way he did for me.

I left partially because I was starting to see red and wanted more than anything to break that fuckers teeth out the back of his throat….I might have been a bit crazy.

Turns out crazy was right…I’ve never been completely hysterical before. Waiting for my angel to show up again, I was sitting in a parking lot, sobbing, laughing, and yelling simultaneously. Everyone I spoke with on the phone that had previously offered help started getting scared and decided to bail.

There’s still only one person in the world that I can trust to always be there beside my mother – Misha. She took me to yet another hospital, spent the night with more IVs and going nuts….

Since I was homeless again, she helped me find a place to stay with a couple individuals that understood the madness I was going through.

Eventually I made it back into the same detox facility that I had tried to get to previously.

I completed it, and will be moving to another “sober living house”. I have multiple probation violations, new court dates, and am relying completely on my family for financial support like a child and not a 29 year old.

Fucking addiction.

Fucking disgusting.

I hurt so many people that I truly cared about and who cared about me with this relapse. I’m sorry to you if you happen to read this to the one who introduced me to country music and taught me to dance – and to the one who always floats on the outside of my thoughts. I’m an idiot, but you already know that.

And to my “neverland” – you know what I would say to you. You’re my everything.