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Today is my 44th birthday and I promised myself that I would start my inventory on this day. My sponsor said I could. I also promised I'd be done with the taper today, but I have 2 days left to go.
We are 48 hours away from change...
Stay safe tonight...
I came to this board roundabout September 1st after experiencing the hell of precipitated withdrawal from fentanyl due to a suboxone induction three days before. I was sick and afraid and anxious that my physical condition might never get better. I can't remember what I Googled to get here, but I came saying I was a chronic pain patient and did not identify as an addict—that I was just trying to learn more about suboxone to see whether I’d ever be able to do my Very Complicated and High-Achieving Life again. (Arlene spotted me on my first post and suggested that I "drop the superwoman act" and I was so in denial that I whipped around and flung her a whole lot of guff about "10 years in AlAnon" and "chronic pain patient" and "aren't I supposed to enjoy life?" Yeah.)
As far as my riddled brain knew at the time, I was telling the truth. That's the funny and very subversive thing about addiction: I can lie baldfacedly and still believe that I'm telling you the Absolute God's Honest Truth.
When I look back now, from my very low perch of .25mg suboxone per day (equivalent of about 8.5-12 mg gold-standard morphine), I don't know how I made it from 100mcg fentanyl into outpatient detox all on my own (equivalent of about 360-400mg morphine), cutting my dose by roughly 98 percent, without being threatened with imprisonment or public humiliation. All I can say is that there was a part of me, however small, however tenuous, that was aligned with some sort of power greater than myself, and that I was going with that. Miracles do happen.
What you don't know, you can feel it somehow...
I've always been a spiritual person. I was raised on the notion that God exists, though it was firmly ingrained in my intellect and childhood spiritual approach that I had NO f***ING RIGHT to understand God (actually, my mother never said "f***"; she said every other curse-word in the book, "potty-language" saturating her every sentence, but because she eschewed "the f-word," that made her language OK: addict reasoning). God Himself was waaay beyond my feeble powers of understanding; that was for the priests to accomplish. I was supposed to get my conscious contact through this man who was somehow trained better than I to understand God.
So the third step has always been real hard for me. For 10 years (in AlAnon--I was raised by two active addicts who died of their addictions to legal substances: nicotine and alcohol) I kept thinking, What in hell is keeping me from taking this step? I'd read and read and write and work at turning my will and my life over, my marriage over, my mothering over, my work-life over, and it just never happened.
Until, of course, I turned the drugs over.
Don't say that later will be better...
I came to the understanding that I am an addict on my son's 11th birthday, September 19.
The realization had been building since I'd inducted onto suboxone Friday of Labor Day weekend. A lot of people are afraid of suboxone, have had bad experiences with it, but I don't regret choosing this way to get off drugs. This can be the subject of a post later on, because there’s a lot I’d like to say about suboxone, but suffice now to say one of the most immediate benefits was, it was only about 48-72 hours before the opioid fog started to lift. And as I kept cutting my dose (I started at 14mg the first day, quickly tapering to about 6mg in the first five days, and then I kept going lower), my life and my behavior, my choices, the choices I’d refused to make, became clearer.
First and foremost, I was forced to confront the fact that I had abused my medication repeatedly, since I first started taking it. I don't want to describe the ways in which I abused the medication because I don't
For years and years I always had that nagging thought as I shoved drugs down my throat: "When am I going to quit this $hit?" quickly followed by "I have no idea HOW to quit this $hit," quickly followed by me conveniently eschewing the thought, burying it, throwing it away. Sounds like your situation was similar.
And yeah. It's a new kind of birthday as a result, for you. It is a whole new and much better life ...
I am glad you started your journal. Have a fabulous day.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUINEVERE64....arent you glad you arent 64 and doing this (please take no offense if you are reading this and are 64)
44 is such a great age........you truly have another whole life in front of you.
Any age is a great age to do the deal.
And yes, Lily, you're right...it does get harder the older "some of us" are. Physically..for sure. Mentally, I think "we" of the AARP generation may have somewhat of an advantage over you young'uns. Many of us understand that there are very few second go-arounds left...if any. Moi included.
G ~ by extended family, I meant the one here on ODR...and yup...they showed up for the party.[8D]
Pass me a slice of that cake. Chocolate please...I'm junkie.[:p]
<center>THERE IS NOTHING SO REMARKABLE AS BEARING WITNESS
TO THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT</center>
Happy Birthday Guinivere, you deserve a happy one....& many more to come. Your post was truely a gift to the board & all of us. Very enlightning. May you have a blessed day with many more to follow.....I feel blessed to of met you here at ODR!
Guinivere, Fabulous post!! & Happy Birthday gal!! Enjoy urself :) U will do well off the suboxone, you seem to have a great handle on things. For me personally, the toughest part of getting off the sub was the exhaustion, i was soooo tired, but that doesn;t mean you will be & no one dies from being too tired (or so ive heard;) ) Anyway, goodluck & keep us posted
A big thanks everyone for all the encouragement and BD wishes.
Just back from taking my son trick-or-treating... I was proud of him today: he had the guts to go to school as a female "nightclub-singer-assassin." Wore an old black knit dress with gold threads, a red wig, and funky new-wave goggles; w/red lipstick and all. Estee Lauder. I told him if any of the other kids gave him stick, to give it right back: and he did.
"You're not pretty as a girl," he said one girl told him.
"I make a prettier girl than you," he apparently said.
Came back with 6 lbs of candy tonight: lots of bartering amongst his buddies, jokes amongst the parents about "redistribution of wealth."
Lots of fear today. Tomorrow is my last day on any sort of opioids. People said I had a lot of "courage" yesterday to write my first post, but I think actually what it was, was bravado. Not real courage.
It's been 10 years since I've been using some sort of opioid on a daily basis to manipulate my mood and especially my energy. I started on Stadol back in the late 80s, early 90s. Thinking back today as part of my 4th step, I think it was the Stadol that first did it for me. Used to be prescribed for migraines before triptans were widely prescribed. Knocked me cold. And they said it had a "low potential for addiction." My sister, who also has migraine and fibromyalgia, loved Stadol too: said it was the only thing that cured her daily headaches. My neurologist at the time cut me off Stadol when I started asking for too many refills. Bingo!
For a while I didn't take anything. It never occurred to me to "ask" for anything. (ha!) But I was prescribed codeine for daily headaches after my son was born, and while I was nursing (toward the tail end, when he was only nursing like once or twice a day), I started taking codeine fairly regularly because I had so little energy, and it seemed to give me more. Later that year, I went to a neurologist for my migraines, and it was he who started me on Lorcet. I didn't ask for it. Not that that matters. At first, I wouldn't take it every day--he only gave me 30 per month; I was leery of refilling it on too regular a basis (that now seems like ages ago, a mindset I no longer recognize), but after a couple of years, when we moved temporarily to another city, I found a doctor who gave me 90 at a time, with refills, and I was in for a pound at that point. Those big fat green oblong tablets. Flippin heck.
That was back in 2000--I remember watching the first "fake" election in our rented house and resorting to Lorcet to "get through it"--that, and the move. I was starting to become desperately unhappy at that point because I knew what I was doing was wrong and unhealthy and I didn't know how to quit: the pills gave me the energy to deal with everything I needed to deal with, but I didn't think I was "really" an addict because I hadn't Lost Everything. Or so I rationalized it. Here I am eight years later.
Now, at this moment, sitting here in my study writing this, I'm very happy (except for my fear). If I didn't have to go through the rest of this detox, give up less than .25mg buprenorphine and "pay the piper" whatever he decides is the rest of my bill, I'm sure there would be pretty much no issue with me staying off drugs. I don't want to go back there, ever--as long as I stay feeling this way. But I'm so afraid of what's coming for me in the next month. From everything I've read on this board, suboxone detox, like, totally sucks. I've been told by members that I've "definitely signed on" for post-acute withdrawal syndrome (paws) that will be as long as each day I've been on buprenorphine, most likely even longer because of the dose of fentanyl I was on and the length of my time on opioids; I've been told to prepare myself to be in bed and unable to function at all for the next two weeks to a month, and only gradually gaining strength thereafter; I've been told that there is no way to avoid any of this except to stay on bupe at a very low
You say, "I might not be able to make breakfast make lunches clean the house make supper write my story for my deadline Tuesday at 7 p.m. clean the catbox get the oil changed hassle my son into taking a bath his least favorite thing or into doing his homework practicing his instrument picking up his papers and toys off the living room floor. Or put him back to bed in the middle of the night."
I say, yes you can. Of course you can. Why can't you? Of course you can.
As you told your little boy, I tell you: It's normal to be scared. Be scared. It's okay.
Information in this forum is not monitored or provided by a medical professional. The information reflects member opinions only. Do not act on advice from these forums without first consulting a qualified medical professional. All content is copyrighted and protected by Aelius Group.