All Journal Entries Journals


Oct 15, 2008 - 3 comments





opium eating

feels like i've been bumping from one withdrawal to the next for my entire life. i don't want this anymore. it's making me sad. i don't know what normal is. it's definately not how i feel right now. I've spent 14 years in oblivion, just scrounging around doing what i could to firstly get so out of it i couldn't feel anything, then just getting what i could to stop the withdrawals. methadone eased that a bit, before methadone it was like being trapped in a wind tunnel, where nothing really stuck in my mind except the burning and screaming to get more heroin into myself. and boy, was that a feeling close to insanity. i never ever want to go back there. there just is no room in your life, no breathing space, for anything but feeding that addiction, running to dealers, hurrying to mix up, quick quick quick, get it into your arm.

it's sad, it makes me cry to think of it. i was a still so little when i found it, barely 18. and that was it, within a month i was hooked. i just wanted it, it eased my troubled mind, my feelings of low worth, my despair over what happened when i was 14. i was a beautiful healthy girl, a little shy, with feelings of never being quite good enough, probably a bit lost in myself. And it just took hold of that part of me with such force. It felt like I had come home, to a safe place, when i first started taking it.

and then it just took off. i didn't look back, i didn't want to. I liked it. Even through the next years of just feeding it to feel ok, i still loved it. I loved the ritual, the mixing, the shooting. the feeling when it hit a second or two later. the warmth. shoulders relaxing, a warm flow of ease all over the body.

there is really not much that compares to it. i even liked the needles. At first i was scared, my first few times, Needles and Heroin. how much worse can one get? but it's the only way i ever did it, and i liked it. i loved it. i loved those little orange capped needles. i loved the pierce into my skin, the pull back to watch the blood mushroom. the beautiful push. and pull back again a tiny bit. i worshipped this action for so long. my whole life revolved around it.

before heroin, i was pretty normal i suppose, as far as drug taking went. the odd bit of speed. the occasional trip or egg. drink every now and then. but heroin, oh my god, that just took hold of me.

then methadone..... second go.
after living for a while in india (last shot of smack before getting on plane- hung out whilst in singapore, first week in india, got to puri and discovered the government drug shops where they are allowed to sell ganga and opium because it is one of the four holy cities of india where this is legal- but as a foreigner you still do not wanna get caught with it on you!), and taking opium resin every day to feed my monster (yeah, no big desire to score indian smack and have to use not so great needles- no needle exchanges!- swallowing opium was fine), then the 3rd degree burn, the pethidine, morphine. going back to australia to avoid a skin graft in a third world country, pain, limping around to score more smack, feeling utterly hopeless and bereft of any desire to continue living. i purposefully od'd. i convinced my ex to bring me a half weight, saying it would last me a few days. i went straight into the disabled toilets, by myself, mixed the whole lot up and bang. the next thing i knew i was waking up to people over me, breathing into me, pushing my chest. apparently, some person wanted to use the disabled toilet in the dead of night (train station) and waited for ten min then went and got the station manager. they called the ambo's. i don't know if narcane was administered. i think a little cause suddenly i was awake and not stoned. apparently the needle was still in my arm. later my drug hit me again hard, the narcane had worn off. i could barely walk straight, my ex had to half carry me home. but i survived, and the next day, once i had come to a little, i realised what i'd done and how desperate i was.
i didnt like methadone, i knew that from last time, but to me it was that or die. so i went to sydney, got on a program, and stayed on it for 9 years. i still abused heroin for the first half a year. then i snapped awake again one morning, realised i couldnt stand my life, i was faking it, i disliked my ex-partner who i'd moved in with again, and this was no way to show a child how to grow in to a loving adult. so i left, with my daughter, and we moved up the mountains, where i lived for the next 8 years, a "successful" participant of the methadone program. Meaning: i didn't dabble in other drugs, clean urines, had a job, supportive relationship etc.

so methadone probably saved me. i didn't have it in me whilst being in the midst of a soul crushing heroin addiction to go through withdrawals. I knew methadone was just going to make it worse in the long run. but i was fairly resigned at that stage to stay on it for life. i didn't really care. the only thing i really had to live for was my 4 yr old daughter, and all parents know, children can be difficult when you are a normal person, let alone when you are an addict of heroin. so i went back on it.

looking back, i wish i had had the strength at that point to just stop heroin and not go back on m'done. but i didn't. i think in my whole time of being a heroin addict, i'd spent 2 months off it, and not too successfully. during that time, i drank too much alcohol, trying to obliterate myself, trying to get from alcohol what was missing in me from no heroin. then i started endone whenever i could get them. then i started using smack again. and then india, opium and etc etc.

i don't know why i'm writing all this. probably there's a part of me that hasn't been uncovered for many many years, and the only way i can cope through this day, and whatever is ahead, is to get it out.

Post a Comment
605114 tn?1252111996
by scarlett_nothing, Oct 15, 2008
a part of me, the saddest smallest blackest part, looks back on my heroin use, and wishes i could do it again. that part want to see a spoon in front of me, a needle. it wants to feel the warmth and coziness.

even though all i can see in that type of action is a decayed future, a dark life, pain and misery. but still, that black part of me misses it and wants it.

just to get some relief from all this. to give in, to stop struggling. i feel like i'm thrashing and pushing against a really strong current and just getting nowhere at all. What happened to life going easier when you do a good thing for yourself? Why hasn't the ruler of the universe added up all the chips, looked down upon me and decided "this girl is really trying, she's working hard to get a better life, i should really cut her some slack."?

Where the hell is my slack, that's what i want to know. i don't know if i can bear another moment of this, let alone another week, or month.

but i guess i'll just have to endure. it's worse at night, when everyone in the house is asleep, when my partner is asleep- and really THAT bugs the bejeezuz out of me. he's doing this too, exactly the same as me, but 38 days off m'done not 40. so why the hell has he had no problems with sleep? because he smokes dope (i mean marijuana), could that be it? maybe he is just stronger than me, is able to focus less on his pain. But even in my sleep, my discomfort wears through, until i awake, usually every hour. til 3.30, then i just get up.

i'm really tired. i'm sick (flu). i don't want to do this anymore, but i set my rudder, locked it and now i just have to go with it. there's no way i'll go score. or go back on methadone. i won't even go get more tramadol to ease this up a bit. I'll just live through this night, moment by creeping goddam moment.

how i loved the game of heroin. i didn't really get it that it would turn gnarly on me. and suck my life up and spit me out. it was just fun. a game. a good girl who everyone liked, turned bad. i loved the stigma of needle use. i was proud of it for so long. my tracks down my arms, i didn't care if the supermarket lady saw them, if the bank clerk caught them and grimaced when i went in to withdraw my whole pay to then give to my dealer. i didn't care. i liked it. i found it amusing, that if they just looked at Me, they'd see a pretty young girl and be all smiles, but if they saw My Tracks, oooooh, a nightmare in our midst they'd think. one of Those People.

now i'm just sad beyond words at the amount of time i wasted on an addiction that did nothing but leave me emotionally battered and physically ruined.

Avatar universal
by groundhog_day, Oct 15, 2008
Hello mate, fellow aussie here, ex heroin and methadone, ten years of it, all my twenties gone up my arm - like you, i used to love my tracks, like you good girl gone bad, and the sense of freedom that came with the rush, with being "bad". I truly relate to every word you say, and I never ever thought I could get clean - like you, so much of my life spent going from detox to detox, until that discomforted hungry feeling feels like me.

About nine years ago I finally got clean - weaned off the done, clean for a few days, then back for a last romance with heroin for six months, but I was so sick, so wasted in body and spirit that I crawled to a detox/rehab and I was too tired to leave. By some miracle, I stayed clean, got out, did NA (the good little girl in me came out full force, did everything that I was supposed to) stayed clean for 5 - 6 years. (Then headaches, and over the counter codeine use, which is why I am back here again at one day off the nurofen plus). But other than the nurofen plus I have not gone back to any of my durgs - and I guess I want to assure you that with time, and with lots of work on myself and the issues that made me use, and with abstinence from drugs, I stopped missing heroin, I stopped feeling like a drug addict and became just me. Dont get me wrong, I have my moments, the fact that i let the codeine use creep up into an addiction says it all, but I just want to say to you - at 40 days clean, back many years ago, life was soooo different and looked so different than it did at 90 days, 6 months, 1 year, 2 years, let alone 5 years let alone now - because even now, though I have been taking codeien, I have still been progressing in my own peculiar way- and the bizzare gift of the codeine is that it has helped me to identify the core issue that fuelled my drug use. (And let me add here that I am sure I would have come to this awareness without the codeine - in no way am i trying to minimise the seriousness of codeine problem and the consequences of it for me).

Sorry for the long reply, I just so related to your words - even about the blokes sleeping, my bloke always used to sleep through detox, it used to drive me insane, I would want to shake him awake so that he could suffer with me :-)

Please hang in, so much changes with time, in ways that you probably cannot imagine right now. Please hang in there, it is such a dead end, such a futile pursuit, the drugs. Hang in and message me anytime if you wish.

605114 tn?1252111996
by scarlett_nothing, Oct 15, 2008
cool- i was beginning to think i was the only one on this site who has ever used heroin by shooting! seems most are pillers or snort it (wtf i think!??). maybe it's more an aussie thing. though i'd have thought heroin and needles were world wide.
maybe there's a stigma attached to it even among drug abusers, and many just won't admit to using it like that... I don't know.

well i'm happy to know that eventually i will feel more normal, whatever that is.... I wish it had happened today, the length of this is doin me right in.
I want to sleep at night and i want to wake up and bounce out of bed happy. I'm sure i used to do that before i got involved with heroin, but can't quite remember. My big wish over the last few years has been to wake up like all the normal people i know, just simply wake up. No having to instantly reach for something to make me feel normal and put me in the mood to deal with the day- getting kids ready, going to work etc. Just to get up, have breakfast and go, that'd be like heaven i think. But i'm wondering if "normal" people ever really just wake up happy and ready to go. Or do they wake up and feel creaky boned, tired, and just have to get on with things anyway? That's what worries me.... i don't know if i have it me to put up with life's hiccups and problems, day after day, year after year, without reaching for a cozy blanket. How do normal people deal with life and it's dramas? I just don't get it. Huh, well i suppose we all have our crutches and addictions, things to help us through the day, i guess it's human nature. whether it be alcohol each evening, sex, exercise, food, porn, going out every weekend and getting trashed- it surprises me, the human capacity for addiction. Our endorphins can totally screw us over....

It seems us ex-opiate addicts have to remain vigilant about even the lesser opiates. I find this slightly depressing. What does a person do when faced with a pain that would normally require opiates? Once i'm through this, i think i'll be too scared to ever take a pain pill again, even for a legit reason. But i'm sure there'll be times when it's required, like abcessed tooth maybe, or car accident... who knows. So what on earth can we do? There's really no other option, but i don't ever want to take them again, i can't let myself fall into that hole. it seems like just once could be enough to unravel all the hard work.

Post a Comment