I've been working since 5:30am, awake since 3. It wasn't my legs last night, so much as my mind. I couldn't get out of my head. After having dreams of rescuing old friends from alien abduction, then finding myself involved once again in the twisted world of drugs, I turned over and over in my bed unable to relax. I picked up my phone and laid down a few solid numbers on Words With Friends, then had the thought that I could probably get away with smoking just a little crack. I laughed at myself then chucked that idea aside... for now.
I bring that up for so many reasons, the first being that the demon is still very much alive inside of me. It's only by chance that every time I have a fleeting thought of using drugs or drinking, that I'm not in a vulnerable state of mind, or within reach of a substance. I almost never have an actual craving, or a mental need to ingest a drug like I do for say, coffee, but I do have dreams followed by hours of contemplative thought.
I talk about using crack a lot in many of my posts but truthfully it was only ever briefly a part of my life just before I entered Hazelden in 2001. I like to use it for reference because it's a crowd pleaser. By that I mean it draws attention: everybody can visualize a crackhead. By now most of you know my drugs of choice-my downfalls- were alcohol and meth.
If I didn't go to meetings, read the Big Book with my sponsor, go out with sober friends, and have family that I cared about, I think I would probably not hesitate to throw it all away again. I try to sound upbeat and happy about my life in my posts, but the truth is that it's really tough being in my shoes. I have a lot going for me but there's a lot of hard work involved. Some days I truly do want to take the easy route, even if for just one day. Thankfully, those thoughts are fleeting, and don't occur very often.
The dreams seem very real. My brain isn't capable of mimicking the high of meth, but the people and scenarios are familiar. I generally don't see myself smoking the stuff, but there will often be a smoldering pipe in my hand paired with a certain unease and feelings of remorse or guilt. My subconscious mind then takes me through the fear of going back to prison and making that dreaded phone call to Mom.
The feelings of guilt often briefly carry over to consciousness. There's a level of sadness associated with thinking I've relapsed but that goes away quickly when I realize it was all a dream. But it's been burned into my brain for the day and sometimes leads me to write things like this which may seem depressing. Remember, this is how I get things out. This is my release.
I bring that up for so many reasons, the first being that the demon is still very much alive inside of me. It's only by chance that every time I have a fleeting thought of using drugs or drinking, that I'm not in a vulnerable state of mind, or within reach of a substance. I almost never have an actual craving, or a mental need to ingest a drug like I do for say, coffee, but I do have dreams followed by hours of contemplative thought.
I talk about using crack a lot in many of my posts but truthfully it was only ever briefly a part of my life just before I entered Hazelden in 2001. I like to use it for reference because it's a crowd pleaser. By that I mean it draws attention: everybody can visualize a crackhead. By now most of you know my drugs of choice-my downfalls- were alcohol and meth.
If I didn't go to meetings, read the Big Book with my sponsor, go out with sober friends, and have family that I cared about, I think I would probably not hesitate to throw it all away again. I try to sound upbeat and happy about my life in my posts, but the truth is that it's really tough being in my shoes. I have a lot going for me but there's a lot of hard work involved. Some days I truly do want to take the easy route, even if for just one day. Thankfully, those thoughts are fleeting, and don't occur very often.
The dreams seem very real. My brain isn't capable of mimicking the high of meth, but the people and scenarios are familiar. I generally don't see myself smoking the stuff, but there will often be a smoldering pipe in my hand paired with a certain unease and feelings of remorse or guilt. My subconscious mind then takes me through the fear of going back to prison and making that dreaded phone call to Mom.
The feelings of guilt often briefly carry over to consciousness. There's a level of sadness associated with thinking I've relapsed but that goes away quickly when I realize it was all a dream. But it's been burned into my brain for the day and sometimes leads me to write things like this which may seem depressing. Remember, this is how I get things out. This is my release.
