Thursday, July 12, 2012

Lover


Faded

Jaded

Lover o’ mine...

Traded

Raided

My life for thine...

Cracked and

Jacked and

Hacked o’er time...

Sucked and

Fucked and

Trucked for a line...

Swaying

Slaying

Praying for time

O'

Faded

Jaded

Lover o' mine.


Copyright Steven Clark 2012

Illusion of Recovery

I came to an interesting realization yesterday about myself, concerning addiction and recovery.  I'm not always quick on the uptake about learning things about myself, I've spent a lifetime trying to hide from me to the point that I have no idea who I really am.  Really obvious stuff - obvious to others anyway - comes to me slowly.

Anyway, I was reading an account of a fellow heroin addict and he made the statement that his recovery attempts were really only him setting his tolerance level back at zero again so that he could once again use and have a 'proper high'.  That he wasn't interested in getting clean for keeps, he only wanted to take occasional breaks from using so that he could come back to drugs again and he'd get that new novel feeling all over again from them.  Like falling in lust with a new lover.

I read that over and over and it made me wonder, is that what I've been doing all of this time, too?  It really was like an epiphany moment, this new way of looking at my life.  Do I really want to recover, or has this unconscious agenda been there all the time, guiding my choices, my repeated relapses?  I've been thinking on this ever since and trying to analyze whether this is the case with me or not.  I truly do not know.

I don't like what addiction has made my life.  I think about using heroin all the time.  All the time.  It's always there, hovering in the back of my mind like a fly waiting to land on a piece of shit.  I think back to the misery of active using, the panic, stress, sickness, and the person I become when needing a fix....willing to do anything, hurt anyone, to get money.  I make myself remember the physical and mental agony of lying there in bed after waking in the morning, dopesick, with no money and desperate for a fix before I shit my pants.  And even with those memories, I still want it, always.  It is insidious, the pull it has on my mind.  Probably because the only times in my life where I felt an ounce of peace, calm, and happiness was when high on heroin, and my brain is desperate to feel that way again.

The longest consecutive period of time I ever had completely clean and sober was 4 years.  In all that 4 years time of going to meetings, reading recovery and self help books, living life, I never felt peace, calm, or happiness.  I faked that I did because that was what was expected of me.  I smiled and laughed like a robot, right on que.  I had none of the feelings of surrender and acceptance that other addicts talk about feeling while doing the steps.  I don't believe there is some magical higher power that can whisk these feelings away from me; or into me, however you want to look at it.  It was 4 years of white knuckling it, full of depressing, suicidal thoughts despite the ever changing cocktail of antidepressants I was on.

What is wrong with me that I haven't had those same feelings that other addicts do in recovery?  What am I doing, or not doing, that prevents me from wanting to keep on with it?  Has my brain become so permanently rewired from years of opiate use that its impossible to ever feel happy again without them?  I want to feel what other people feel.  If recovery means more years of white knuckling it, always feeling depressed and angry and not quite right, I don't know if I want it.  I don't want the misery that the addict lifestyle brings either so I'm fucked both ways.

I know what I'll be told - better to be depressed and angry but clean, instead of happy and in danger of dying or ending up in jail.  A rational mind would say so, but an addict's mind isn't rational.  I know this also sounds like I'm setting it up to justify a relapse, which isn't necessarily true.  Even on my best days I'm an inch away from relapse.  Just needed to get out what has been circling around my head about all of this - this new idea that deep down I may have no intention of ever really staying clean from opiates.  It's heady, this idea, and I don't know how I feel about it.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Redemption Song

An ache so strong that it feels like it will never end.

It pierces me to the quick.  Breathless.

After all this time it hasn't eased.

"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery" Bob sings.

Can I?


Copyright Steven Clark 2012

Bloodletting

Summer of 1991.

You, topless, smoking a joint.

Your lips curl up in a smile, beckoning me.

In the Darkening Of The Light we join.



Copyright Steven Clark 2012

Falling

Falling through the ether, light and sound filtering through me like smoke
Thoughts are here too, they crash against me
Sometimes holding me up like a buoy
Sometimes pulling me under like crashing waves.

Reason and purpose taunt me but are out of reach,
slipping through my fingers like water through a sieve

I twist and turn in the current
undulating like a dancer to music
Sometimes going with the flow,
Sometimes fighting every movement.

I need something solid to grasp.
Something to anchor me in the swaying movement that is my mind.

You reach in and take my hand,
knowing you could be pulled in, too.
"Rearranging the deck chairs, are we?" you say.
"I have to try," I say back.

Copyright Steven Clark 2012

Monday, April 16, 2012

Pointless

What is the fucking point of anything?

We're all going to die someday, and until then all we have to do is muddle through this pointless existence as painlessly as possible.

Which, as each day goes by, seems more impossible to do.

Don't give me fucking platitudes about how I could "give so much back" and "help others."  So what?  So what if I might help others?  Help them to what?  Live?  Why would anyone want to live in this hell hole?  There is nothing but pain, and despair, and death.  No minute points of light or joy can impede that fact.  No religion can "save us" from it.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Fear

First off, thank you my friends for helping me stay sane last night.  I made it through the day without using.  Days like yesterday are incredibly hard to tolerate.

I came across this sentence recently:

"Fear is the great convincer. Fear overwhelms reason, education, logical thinking, and common sense."  

While the article it was in was unrelated to addiction, I thought it fairly relevant to addiction nonetheless.

I think deep down (or hell, maybe not even that deep down) all addicts have a fear of life.  I guess I shouldn't speak for all addicts though, so I'll say that I have an intrinsic fear of life.

Fear of success, fear of intimacy, fear of change.....why all this fear?  Why the hell do we fear that which can bring us immense joy?  Fear of failure.  I think that's it.  We've convinced that anything we attempt in life we will fail at, so why bother trying at all.  Again, only speaking for myself, I am aware that I have perfectionist tendencies, and massive control issues.  Which is funny, because only I can control whether I use or not.....but when I'm using I am completely out of control.  Irony, you are a bitch.

Change is the only thing you can count on being consistent in life....another irony.  I fear change, yet crave it.  Immense joy....I fear that too.  It doesn't make sense, but I distrust happiness.  It doesn't feel right.  Maybe because I have experienced so little of it in my life I don't know how to feel about it.  It's like putting on someone else's shoes.  They might be the right size, and will enable you to walk from point A to point B, but they just don't feel right.  So I guess with happiness, instead of waiting awhile to break the shoes in to make them my own, I get out of them as fast as I can.  Self sabotage.  Sometimes I'm aware of doing this, other times I'm not and only realize it in hindsight when I'm analyzing my life and trying to figure out why the hell I'm in over my head again.

I'm constantly reminding myself of the Serenity Prayer:  Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.  Some things are really, really hard to accept though.  I get so hung up on the past that I become unable to move forward.  Fear of failure.  Fear of success.  So the temptation is always there to return to at least what is familiar territory, despite the misery of it.  I know what to expect, even if I'm taken by surprise.  I know how to navigate, while being totally lost.  I'm surrounded by like people so that I'm not alone, despite being completely alone.  I love it, even while hating it.  Drug addiction is a world full of paradoxes.

Thanks, Sue, the log jam has become unstuck.