Tales of Recovery from Crystal Meth Addiction
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What then, brethren, shall we say of God? For if thou hast been able to understand what thou wouldest say, it is not God. If thou hast been able to comprehend it, thou hast comprehended something else instead of God. If thou hast been able to comprehend him as thou thinkest, by so thinking thou hast deceived thyself. This then is not God, if thou hast comprehended it; but if this be God, thou has not comprehended it.
-St. Augustine
A.
Atheist.
Two and a half years sober and I find myself so fucked off about the conception of god that I got sober with that I can’t live joyfully. In all likelihood I just haven’t given myself enough time to heal or something but at the moment it seems like the “power” that got me sober was an episode of magical thinking from which I have been medically released.
I’m two months out of surgery and I’m still in so much pain that I think I need to go back to the doctor. I’ve tried taking a friend’s Neurontin and it had no effect on the pain.
If there is no god then I must have had the power to get sober all along. I must not have known how to access or use that power but it must have always been there.
My sponsor suggested that I go to as many meetings in a row as I am able to until I believe again and I’ve been doing that – 2 or 3 meetings a day. All I really hear is some really soft thinking and bad logic.
Oddly, none of that means that I think that AA doesn’t work. It obviously worked for me, and I don’t think that not believing in god anymore should be too much of a hindrance. There are all kinds of higher powers I believe in. One of those is that groups can accomplish more than individuals.
I’m just tired of feeling like I’m supposed to believe in god to stay sober and tired of trying to make the magical thinking return.
(I just watched a TV commercial where the governor of Idaho said that meth “leaves a tattoo on your brain.” Seriously. )
It is so strange, and so strange that it is comforting to be again in the company of my family and among people who share my religious heritage. The Church (of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints – the Mormons) take a very dim view of homosexuality and of drug addiction. Now that the addiction part is under control, and now that my father and I have both worked very hard to heal our relationship, I’m a part of this gigantic clan again.
I have a cousin, Nicholas, who I’ve hung out with a little bit, who only ever knew my name before, not my face, and he knew that my name was always attached to trouble or heartache. “THAT Cousin Chris” is what he calls me. The younger ones figure out who I am and their eyes widen briefly. The little kids, and there are a dozen of them, all think I’m great. I think I’m just better adapted to talk to little children.
Another cousin of mine, Nate, was 6 years old when I effectively left the family. Now he’s a giant man with several children of his own, a wonderful wife, and a really cool job in Washington D. C. that affords him a ringside view of our government. (He really likes Barney Frank, whom he knows personally, and he also really likes Larry Craig, whom he knows personally, and wishes Larry would “just come out already.”) We are polar opposites, politically, but because he came by his beliefs through work and reason (as opposed to being brainwashed by talk radio and Fox News) we are actually closer than one might imagine, and honestly I think he’s really cool.
Being around these people, being in this environment, is so comfortable, and I’m only slightly ill at ease with that. I have some anger about what the LDS church has done to my tribe. I’m even more angry that members of my own family share the political view that prompted church members in Utah (mostly) to pump $40 million into California to pass Proposition 8. I don’t understand how people who love me, who claim to want the best for me, could possibly believe that a world where inequality is the law is morally right. I don’t want to be married in their temple. I am happy to live in a country where they are permitted to practice the religion of their conscience, and I believe in protecting freedom of religion. Freedom of religion is one of the civil rights that our country is built on. Equal protection under the law is another of the ideas that our country is supposed to be built on and until I am truly offered equal protection I will not really be one of them – one among my own people.
So I’m part of our family – but not a full part. Here, in this place I love, among people I love, I am considered to be an inferior.
I’m no closer to coming to believe that “a power greater than myself” is appropriate to turn my “will and life” over to the care of. I still think that “Higher Power” is an unconscious, impersonal, greater good –indifferent to my personal circumstance–the law of cause and effect if you will; cause and effect in a system too large for me to grasp. Perhaps if I were omniscient I could understand all of what has happened and what continues to happen. At the moment the power, I think, resides with me and within the group, and in my relationship with my sponsor. I refuse to concede that the Higher Power resides with and favors the saints and not the sinners –no matter what they believe.
Joe has been gone from the house for over 24 hours now, and has presumably accelerated his relapse into full on heroin use. I have not only been in close contact with my own sponsor about the situation and my actions in it, but I also got to go and hear him tell his story at a speaker meeting tonight. He celebrated 39 years on Monday, yet there is nothing he ever shares, whether it’s about what it was like for him 40 years ago or 40 days ago, that doesn’t demonstrate the power of the program, and the infinite love of his Higher Power to change things.  I had really hoped that Joe would have made himself available to come along. After going over everything with him carefully today, I understand that I’ve done all I can do for Joe. The rest of this is God’s job. I have a few obligations I need to keep, in terms of contacting my probation officer to tell her what’s going on, and, perhaps, Joe’s parents and probation officer, which I’m not happy about, but that’s OK, too.
I don’t know that these challenges had any bearing on how difficult it was to not smoke today, but I’ve made it through, aided by fully restored health, a little meditation, and Commit lozenges. The second day smoke free was accompanied by markedly increased coughing and phlegm, which has something to do with my lungs begining to heal. So I guess coughing is good. I also found the smell in my house even more troublesome, so I’ve washed nearly everything (about 6 loads of laundry), vacuumed, freshened the carpets, douched my room with Febreeze, and thoroughly cleaned the floors and dusted the living and dining rooms.
My life, especially by comparison, is so great. I just don’t understand why someone would consciously turn their back on it unless maybe they never tasted it in the first place.
It’s the first day of recovery, again, for my first sponsee, Joe, who had the courage this morning, to admit that he relapsed. Perhaps it wasn’t courage really so much as the absense of an adequate denial. And perhaps it’s not the first day of a new recovery. Okay. Let me just be honest. He’s acknowledged his relapse but I don’t believe he has taken any steps toward or is even interested in recovering.
It is a “day one” for me though. I smoked my last cigarette 26 hours ago. I am using a nicotine replacement product so the cravings are somewhat under control. It’s not the same as smoking, but the edge is less sharp. A good written first step on smoking seems like a good idea. The first obvious, and really irritating symptom of unmanagability I’m dealing with at the moment is the smell. I smoke in my house. I attend AA meetings where smoking is permitted. At one day off cigarettes I am acutely aware of the smell that permeates everything I own. It disgusts me yet strangely it makes me want to smoke.
I know that smoking will kill me, and yet I smoke. I think that fits the kind of definition of insanity that the program talks about. And I have come to believe that a power greater than myself can solve all of my problems. My experience has been that when I made a decision to stop using crystal meth, I found the strength and support I needed to do it, and I believe that If I make the same decision with cigarettes, I’ll have the same experience.
But it is day one. I am edgy. It will pass. I’ll feel healthier. The smell will wash out. The craving will be removed. I’ll be restored to sanity. And God, in His infinite grace, will bless me with a little more happiness, joy, and freedom.
I don’t know that I’ve ever been so sick and not been hospitalized. Without health insurance and without any savings I elected to just ride it out, which, in retrospect, was probably a bad idea. I haven’t had solid food since Monday, but I am finally keeping fluids down and the exhausting cycle of fevers and chills seems to have (I hope) ended. Hopefully later today or tomorrow I’ll be able to do some laundry. Clean my room. Wash my sheets. I’ve puked so much over the last 3 days and I hate puking. Just hate it. I’ll be so grateful to have this be over. At the moment I’m keeping down Jell-O, One of the pups I live with works in a restaurant and came home with a half gallon of it.
That pup knocked on my door this afternoon to express some concern over the well-being of our other roomie, who is clearly (at best) over-medicated. We just got done having a little chat with him about taking medications that aren’t prescribed to him. He refuses to see that as a relapse. The best thing for me to do now is nothing, although if it gets any worse I feel I have an obligation to tell his parents. If I got to have things my way I’d give him ECT. Moo ha ha ha ha ha!!! It’s really a good thing I’m not in charge.
The only real bright spot of my week has been the funeral I attended this evening. I know that sounds weird. It was for a woman whom I had only ever heard be referred to as “The Dragon Lady.” I went to high school with her son, whom I haven’t seen in 20 years. Scott was the first person I knew who was ‘out’ and okay with it. I had great admiration for him then.
I came across Scott on facebook and he generously accepted my friend request, so I got to learn a little about his life now; his long-time companion David and their daughter, Maggie, named for Scott’s mother.
One of the reasons I went was to affirm my beleief in the power of love to heal relationships; between my family and me, or between Scott and his mother. Another reason I went was simply to honor Scott. My being there was merely a small act of gratitude for showing me that coming out is okay, and more recently showing me that people like us can have meaningful and lasting relationships.
I almost did not go. I barely had enough strength to shower and try to make some clothes match. I tried to tell myself that it could be seen as an intrusion. In the end, the thought crossed my mind that, for whatever reason, today may be the only day I ever get to see Scott and to meet his family. Not any more reasons to drag them out of Sherman Oaks. So in the end I went.
And I was surprised by how warmly and how lovingly I was greeted. I was surprised not to see any of the other people we went to school with, whom he is still in touch with, there. I was so happy to have a tiny opportunity to simply be there for a distant friend.  And right now it has me thinking about my own health condition, and about the condition of my roommate. How there is nothing anyone can do for me to make me better faster, and how much I appreciate it that some people just show up for me – ask if I can keep down Jell-O or if I’d like some chicken soup. And there is nothing I can do for my roommate. Nothing.
Except be there should he decide to reach out for help.
After a long and exhausting week I got to give myself a little break yesterday, and slip into a quiet and comfortable coma. I laid down for a nap at noon, woke up at 9pm, ate, watched a little television, and was asleep again by midnight.
I didn’t get up this morning till 8am. Picked up a sponsee and we went to a meeting at 10, went out for breakfast and did stepwork till 12:30. By 2pm I was doing homework, and I just got finished at 10:30. I went to the QuikeeMart and got a King Size Reese’s NutRageousâ„¢ which I totally feel like I deserve to have. I’ve deprived myself of candybars for a while now. I was at my shrink’s office last week and found that in spite of a month of deprivation I haven’t lost an ounce. Not one. I am a 224# lard-ass and I’m not going to be a suffering lard-ass. After that many hours of homework I am going to treat myself with chocolate. Read the rest of this entry »
After taking a coin for my 2nd year sober (today) in a meeting tonight I was surprised to hear descriptions of me as I was during the first part of my recovery. My first sponsor’s wife said that she had been scared of me. “Don’t let that freak in my house,” she had told him. He’s not sober today and she has less than 60 days. I’m not judging. I”m just saying.
The book talks about the desperation of a drowning man. I guess desperate people probably seem a bit crazy, and if I was anything I was desperate. Read the rest of this entry »
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