feels like I am constantly running with a dark, swirling storm cloud chasing after me. I can’t slow down and I can’t pause otherwise it will swallow me whole into its mass of apprehension and fear. I have to stay busy, stay ahead. Drugs don’t solve the problem, they are only a temporary shelter.
Must keep running.
Seriously though. No motivation or energy or drive or passion or anything whatsoever.
But I managed to get everything done.
I see a vision of myself a month or two from now, strong and confident: the person I always wanted to be.
I can do this. Must not use. Must not succumb.
Would be so much easier if I could just turn off all of the thoughts in my head.
I see now why they call addiction a disease. It takes over and completely controls your every thought/action/motive. You don’t have a choice.
So are we predisposed to this? Or is it a disease we bring upon ourselves. If it’s the latter, I’d like to give a huge fuck you to the “old me” of six years ago.
You got me in this mess but I’m getting me out.
I keep feeling like I’m going to puke everything I manage to down.
I made a list of 3 productive things to get done today and it is taking every ounce of my strength to “slowly” accomplish them.
I look ugly and feel fat
Anxiety is wrapping its grubby little fingers around my throat and squeezing until I can no longer breathe. Which is giving me more anxiety.
All of the bad things I’ve ever thought/felt are replaying over and over in my head like a bad tape recording.
I keep sweating hot, sweating cold, just really uncomfortable in my own skin.
Lying down watching tv is too boring.
Moving around and being active is too much work.
Can I rewind to before I ever had a problem to begin with?
Everyone needs a little love
I’m writing this, not for attention or anyone’s benefit aside from my own.
For years I have been struggling with drug-related problems. The constant need to please, to feel good/intelligent/beautiful/confident enough, to feel worthy of attention and praise and love has always led to my relapse/ultimate complete downfall back into whatever I can get my hands on.
I’m sitting here chronicling my journey through opiate withdrawal for the 3rd time - suffering through what I’ve identified as TOTAL HELL while still alive.
Imagine wanting to crawl out of your skin, to be anywhere or anyone but yourself. Imagine reliving every moment of your life and feeling completely weighed down by the what-if’s: as if “what if I just hadn’t done that… I would be happier and I wouldn’t be here”. Imagine your body’s temperature skyrocketing and then plunging into an abyss of cold - illustrated by intense cold and hot sweats. Imagine your skin feeling like one hundred thousand needles are pricking it but somehow it feels completely numb. Imagine going to that darkest part of your soul, the part where death, with all it’s melancholy and uncertainty, seems warm/comfortable/familiar.
I’m so fucking scared of myself right now.
Something inside me pushes me to keep going. To drink water, take hot baths, eat whole foods, walk around, to basically try not to kill myself or turn back into my addiction.
I wish I could talk to someone, ANYONE. But the past two years I’ve hidden this part of me so far inside that it’s become a natural part of who I am. I don’t even recognize myself falling back into a downward spiral until I’m at the bottom. After which I’m stuck wondering “how the fuck did I get here?” “Look at all the people I’ve hurt and pushed away” “how did I ruin everything” “will I ever get out?”
Someone out there, anyone. Please help. I don’t want to be this person anymore.