Due to an imperfekt life and the choas that consumes me... This blog was never posted... I wrote this on September 5, 2019. Two weeks after my inpatient stay, and the day HE got on a plane to Tennessee for his first attempt at cleaning up.
Ever have one of those dreams that seem so real that even when you try to wake up you can't? Or one of those days that you don't really know how you got through it because although physically present, you weren't fully there? My life in the last 3 years have had an over abundance of these kind of dreams and days. Sometimes I wonder and I ask myself "did this just really happen?"... here's one of those memories from recent times.
I would like to say it happened suddenly, I want to say I don't know exactly how it happened at all. Neither of those statements would be accurate though.
The downward spiral, my drug induced paranoia, my desire to be sober and my inner circle of people who were too caught it up in their own addiction and need to be relevant all helped me fall down the rabbit hole again. I know I haven't always done the right thing spoke kindly to others or was the best person I could be. But I have tried to be better, although the more I tried the worse people treated me. I used to cry myself to sleep, cry myself awake and whimper through the night. My nightmares became my daydreams and my horror was all I knew.
Sobriety. It's a double edge sword to know that you chose not to be sober that you have been labeled so many things for a short term decision and that choice although is only consumed 1% of my life has given me the title that overshadowed any good deed or role I have held in my past.
Sobriety is the town that my nightmares are set in, whether it be trying to get there, visit there or settle there. Sobriety is a lonely place and no one wants to go there with you, and the people that are there they don't want to welcome you, because you are a risk to their world. I packed my baggage and set forth for Sobriety. I wanted him to make the move with me. He had so much more reason to go. But maybe I downplayed my addiction and issues, I know I had to wean down and I didnt. I knew what would happen, I just forgot how severe it would be...I screamed for 48 hours...about everything and anything I could... It was no wonder he didn't want to stay with me to go with me... I couldnt even stand myself. He ran, I chased him. He tried to leave, I would cry. I became the girl who would lay down behind his car tires just to stop him from leaving. He hated me and how I acted and I hated that he could still get high why I say there waiting on him to pack and clean up with me, for me. It is so hot and tiring on this day, as I sat in the car. He locked me in, if I opened the door he slammed it shut. I knew he would leave me again in that parking lot If I stepped out of the car. I screamed and begged him toget back in the car to please hold me, love me, come with me not runaway from me. He told me to shut up, he didn't give a fuck, go fucking away forever he wouldnt and didn't want to be near me. My blood pressure was raising the heat was getting to me... If I woke up from the nightmare right at that second I would find my shirt to be soaking wet from night sweats. But it was a hot August Day in Florida and it was heat exhaustion I was feeling. I reached back and grabbed the rope hanging off the Shrimp trap, that my son and I had tied knots into on his last visit to me, the same day I found B shooting up in the garage and learned how serious his problem had became. The rope was still attached to the shirmp trap, I wrapped it twice around the headrest and locked the headrest into place. I wrapped the other end, a knotted noose that we slipped on to the pier column, squeeze it over my head, and tightened it. I reached for the locked door to open it, I was going to open it slam it behind me and it would lock and this nightmare would be over. But something went wrong, no I didn't wake up and realize it was just a dream. I realized I couldn't reach the door, I realized the rope wouldn't give me the leeway to do it. It was tightly secured and locked around my neck. It wouldn't budge, and now I felt the sweat increase, my heart pound faster, and I feared my fate. He looked at me, he watched me struggle, I screamed for help. I don't know if I had a voice, I don't know if he could hear me out of the locked car, but he ran to the mail truck to a gold colored older model car several times. I picked up my phone I called my friend to please come help me, he opened the door and I begged him to help me and he said he couldn't touch me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to die like this but I realized he definitely wanted me too. He could still make it to the friend he wanted to spend the day with shopping pharmacies to fill his oxycontin script, driving him to Washington to re-up on Meth, I didn't want those things, I sat there in more pain, sweating more thinking of all I wanted was him to take me home and realize that this psychotic.meltdown was due to my sudden decision to be clean and now as I felt my bodily functions go I knew I felt dirtier and more disposed of them ever. I still saw him running from car to car, a women in a silver car handed him something he came to the car with pliers he cut the rope, I could feel the suture marks on my neck. I heard the sirens pulling up, I saw my friend, well the person I thought was my friend pull in. I lied at first and blamed him. I wanted it to be true in that moment, but I loved him and couldn't lie for long. I wanted to hurt myself for him, I wanted to make his life better, I didn't want to hurt him. And if I lied that only hurt him. He didn't want me, he would never want me again. So I told the truth and I wished more.than anything I had died. I couldn't wake up... This wasn't a nightmare, I wasn't having nightsweats, I wasn't in a dream this was my reality. I got a free 3 day trip to an inpatient facility.... He spent the next two days shooting up at the residence of the "friend" I thought I had. Turns out I learned a lot in those three days, one thing being that friend, the one I called, she wasn't my friend. She was my dealer and since February she watched the pot boil, and was giddy when it runeth over. He spent the next two days spending every cent he had, on dealers drugs and junkies... He visited me for 2 hours and told me how this was my own fault. He told me I did this to myself and I had to fix me. He told me all I had when I got out was him and "OUR" best friend. I nodded in agreement. He loved me... He cared... He was the only person that showed up in those 3 days. Maybe it could be better, now. I thought maybe I could be fixed and get to sobriety- for sure he would come with.... When I was released, I waited 2 hours for him to come....but all I knew is no one else would get me anyways.
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