Lean on Me

[An oldie, but a goodie.  Ester found this post from July!]

Over the course of this blog, I have wrote very openly about my drug abuse,  I do this in hopes that my story may help someone who is currently living the same struggle I lived.  However, there are other reasons as well.

A recovering addict needs love and support...much support.  You can’t make it alone.  Perhaps you’re having a struggle in your own life.  I’m talking to you right now.  First you have to recognize the problem.  Drugs are the most common, but alcohol, gambling, even sex are things that grab hold and are hard to be free from.  Eating disorders, smoking… the list goes on and on.

I realize in my own life I have made big moves toward staying sober.  First, I know I had a problem.  Next, I went to my family, the people who love me, and asked for their support.

This project has become a huge part in my decision to remain free from drugs.  Accountability.  I look back over my life and realize that prison, in many ways, saved my life.  Then, the J.J. project – not the ‘project’ as much as you.  YEAH, you!  Just as you are sitting there reading, you are quite honestly watching me.  What’s this dude gonna say or do next? – this has become a major part in my choice to live a sober life.

Even if I manage to get clean on my own, if nobody else knows, then I’m really only letting myself down if I go back to my old life.

…And honestly, as an addict, you let yourself down all the time.  …Because deep in your heart, you want to be free, but it hurts and you give in.  That’s why if you really want to be free… tell someone. 

There are drugs here.  We get random drug tests back here because they know there are drugs here.  I am still free.  Since I was 15 years old I have smoked cigarettes.  About two years ago, I decided to quit.  It lasted for almost 3 months and I started back.  I beat myself up, too.  Part of me said "See, you’re not as strong as you thought."  …And that right there pissed me off.

I realized I needed a reason.  I needed to give my heart a good reason to help myself.  Fourteen years ago this August, my daughter was born.  I found the reason I needed in my little girl.  On her birthday this year, I was one year smoke-free.  You may not think that’s such a big deal.  For me it is huge.  You see, I have an addictive personality.  I needed this.  I needed to know I was stronger than my addiction.

I won’t lie, I didn’t even tell my daughter I quit until the 8^th month.  I was scared to fail again.  When I told her, I wished I had done it earlier.  Because I never want to let her down.  I already have let her down enough.  Now that I told her, it’s over.  …Back to accountability.

For this very reason, I write stuff like this.  Maybe it will encourage you if you’re having a hard time right now.  But even more than that, you have become my reason to stay clean.

If you have a problem, tell somebody.  Tell your mom, tell your dad, tell your spouse or your best friend.  Find a church and tell a pastor.  Tell someone who cares.  I care.  This project cares.  Don’t feel like you stand alone.  Find help, then take that hand and hold on for dear life.

My sister and I developed this thing in order to help people.  It helps me all the time.  I’ve said it before, but it’s on my heart again.  Maybe you need a reason.  Perhaps you are searching and you need an answer.  Do you need some help?

Why did I sit down and write this today?  Why was I awake at 2 a.m. to write ReachingOut?  …Because of things I can’t see.

Ester and I had a conversation months ago.  She said she likes to follow her heart.  I love you sissy.  You follow your heart and before long, you will know all too well about heartbreak.  I’m a convict doing hard time.  That’s why I follow my gut.  It’s a built in safety device – a device that quite likely has saved my life.

But since I’m all about keeping it real, I can’t lie either.  Sure, I try and sound like the tough guy, but you read The Answer is Love and you’ll know my heart is in this project.  I’ve never met you, but I care about your life.  I don’t care if you’re from my own backyard or from the outback.  Black or white – I don’t see lines of any kind.  Maybe you just need to know someone cares.  I let my little girl be the reason for me.  You need to find that reason for yourself. 

Maybe you’ve burned your family one too many times and stumbled upon this blog.  I questioned whether or not to write this.  Maybe you’re wondering why you’re here, listening to me today.  I don’t know if it was my heart or my gut.  Maybe both inspired this.  These days, I just go with it.  Either way… I still have a good hand that reaches out.  So does my sister.  You are not alone.

If you are free, be thankful.  If you want to be free, you can be.  I get a lot done from bunk 113.  And, I have time for you.  We’re cool like that.  Is there something you want to read about?  Is there a topic you would like me to write about?  Just leave a comment here.  I will hear about it.  I will sit on bunk 113 and write a new post.....a new post that might help you, a friend of yours, or a family member that you love.  Just say the word. 

As always, much love from The Hooligan  

Methadone & Me

It's 5 a.m.  I'm sitting in my truck looking out the window.  There's a Doral 120 hanging out of my mouth.  I'm sick.  I didn't sleep last night.  My body is covered with sweat.  The smoke from my cigarette is rolling into my eyes and they burn.  My nose is running.  My boots are untied.  One lace is shut in the door.  I didn't have the energy to bend over and tie them.  I take a final drag off the cig, then flick it out the window. 

Cars begin to pull in around me.  Before long a 'closed' sign is flipped to 'open'.  I roll up my window with the last bit of energy I can muster.  Then get out to take my place in line.  I'm not sure if I even want to be here, but I need help.  Looking at the others in line, I see me.  A whole lot of fucked-up people.  There is a mother pushing a stroller with her baby.  A guy my age.  An old man with a walker.  People of all ages and races. 

It is now 6 a.m.  Once I am inside I am handed a questionaire.  I sit down to fill it out. 

How long have I been using?  What is my drug of choice?  How many milligrams do I use a day?  Do I drink on top of the drug use? 

I fill this out and turn it in at the desk.  A nurse takes me to a room for a physical.  She takes a urine sample and while it's being analized she goes over more questions. 

On a low end I use 500 milligrams of oxycodone a day.  But, I use up to 1,000 and even more.  When I am out of prescription doses, I buy street heroin.  Lately, I have been smoking crack as well.  I also smoke the heroin. 

Today, I am at a methadone clinic.  I was told to come to the clinic in a state of withdrawal.  I am.  My urine shows I have all the drugs in my system I claimed to be using.  The nurse then walks me to a small window and hands me a small cup.  "Drink this," she directs.  I have just been dosed with the drug methadone.

By the time I leave the clinic the shakes are gone.  I don't feel sick an hour later.  Only empty.  I'm not 'high'.  I'm not sick.  I feel dull.  Is this what 'normal' feels like?  I don't know...I forgot. 

My day continues...

Later in the afternoon a friend throws me some roxycodone.  I chew them all at once, then take a blast of crack.  Now I'm in a better state of mind.  For the first time today, the beast is happy and allows me to smile.  I light another Doral 120 and smoke it to the filter.  Long, deep drags.

I continued through the next week like this.  'Dosing' at the clinic at 6 a.m. then using whatever is available as the day progresses.  Methadone is designed with users like me in mind.  Once it is in your system, it becomes an opiate blocker.  After a week of morning doses of this drug, the street drugs no longer get me high. I am still a junkie and try.  I would spend my money on crack, or a bag of heroin.  I was using it with no effect.  I can't get high.  All I get is pissed.

This causes me to drink more.  The alcohol still works...only after I have drank myself to black out.  So that's what I do.  People marvel at how much I can drink.  I am a machine.  Now I have yet another problem.  I drink too much.  I continue like this. 

The clinic has upped my dosage.  I hear methadone is just as addictive as opiates.  Withdrawal from opiates is 3-5 days of hell on wheels.  I've been there.  Methadone is 30 days of hell.  That's not cool.  But, by daily dose of methadone is 12 bucks...my daily does of opiates runs in the hundreds.  What should I do?  A week later I quit the clinic and hit the opiates harder than ever. 

Opiates and narcotics are the drugs that consumed me.  I couldn't find the strength to get free.  They are also the easiest for me to conceal while 'under the influence'.  I told my woman this the other day...catch me sucking a Doral down to the filter?  Give me a drug test.  That's not a joke. 

I always want to be better.  For me and everyone who loves me.  Basically, I've put myself on probation.  I'm a fan of preventative maintenance and short leashes.  Not many guys are...I know.  I can't live like most guys.  I need my woman in my shit.  Not many dudes like that either.  This dude loves it.  What God, my momma and my boo can't handle?  Ha!  It isn't much.