Category Archives: Addiction

Last night I went out and used copious amounts of illegal drugs

And today I am paying for it, needing to dose every half hour or so, so as to not go into remission and suffer through withdrawal.

It’s awful. I thought I’d be OK going to that party last night where I knew there would be GHB. Someone asked me if I wanted a shot and I said no then another person asked me again and I said no again. I should have just left that party. I should have just walked home. Then another person asked saying “Oh, Jessica, it’ll be OK” proceeding to explain that he was addicted to and now only takes it when he’s around other people. I caved, and said yes thinking it would be OK just this once.

And just like that…

…I’m completely addicted to GHB again.

I’d be a FOOL to even try that drug again with 1679 days sober off that stinking drug.

Three personal blog reader emails to share with you

Just over four years have passed since I first began blogging on March 6th, 2006. In essence I have a Bachelor of Blogging. And people are writing to me with their stories, gratitude and sometimes just to say hi.

I thought I’d share a few emails with you that I’ve received over the last few weeks from readers of this blog. They have been reproduced with permission and names changed if requested. All moved me in their own way and even brought me to tears… This is why I blog. This is what inspires me. Continue reading

Traffic noise amidst the winds of change

The life was sucked out of me on 12th Avenue. The incessant traffic noise I wrote about on more than one occasion in my journal. It didn’t ebb and flow there but rather marched no cannon balled and madly screamed back and forth along that magnificent tree lined East Vancouver Street.

I remember mere moments of stillness when the traffic did stop for a light or for a pedestrian brave enough to cross through Continue reading

Etsy feels like an addiction

And I should know because I am an addict.

Four and half years ago when I was being treated for GHB addiction my doctor asked me what I planned to do for money. At the time I was just discovering the beauty of blogging and all the possibilities that it held: a way to share my ideas, artwork, meet and converse with like-minded people and perhaps earn an income. I had already made the decision to never venture back into the applied arts world of graphic design and was looking for a more holistic way to live that in turn complimented my ideals and would allow for personal growth but more importantly, live as an artist.

The doctor asked how much time do you spend online? Continue reading

Absinthe 99 or playing with the green fairy that was 2004

In 2004 during an intensive year of college in British Columbia we were asked to illustrate a poster in an older illustrative style with hand drawn letters. Absinthe 99 is the result of that assignment.

That year of college was one of the most brutal and rewarding times of my life. I had applied and was later accepted into an advanced multi media program at Langara College. I took 21 courses in one 12 month period including advanced typography, history of design and colour theory. By the end of that year I was addicted to GHB (sedatives). Add to that, my boyfriend was manic, and suffering through immense panic attacks and depressive episodes and unable to work, let alone feed himself until later that same year… it was all I could do to cope with the situation I found myself in. If anything, the strict regimen of college that year heightened and brought to the surface my inward disorder with the world around me. In 2007 I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder and a few underlying learning disabilities.

I believe all those people who succumb to addiction have their reasons and people it really does not happen overnight. It begins innocently enough when one can’t get out of a predicament and that predicament then folds in on itself evolving into a monster! And truth be told I’ve never drank absinthe… someday maybe… I also hold the belief that once an addict you are not always going to be an addict. I do believe to get better you must live a more holistic lifestyle. And for some, that does mean remaining sober indefinitely. Addiction is simply a way of showing us there is a problem that needs to be dealt with or you will die.

Maybe, it’s the reading of 2012 by Daniel Pinchbeck that is reawakening those memories and you know what? I’m glad because now they seem fresh and perhaps today I can make sense of them as my mind is clear, and life is good. For too long I discounted those experiences as trivial and felt bad that I had traveled into the depths of my soul using substances (other than sedatives) to enlighten and open up channels that did exist in reality when I was a child. And I sometimes think, that Attention Deficit Disorder is a result of those perceptions being systematically taught out of us by society.

This year, as I settle into my home I’m finding memories are surfacing of those years; many good and some pretty awful ones to. I’m simply accepting them for what they are and digging out the artwork that was created during that time, for in it holds the key to moving on, letting go and growing once more.

I created 11 by 14 inch prints of this illustration and they are available on HangsaLittleLeft… my darker art shop… muahahahahaha!

The end of innocence or why we grow potatoes

Many anniversaries precariously show their face to me during this time of year when summer begins to end and everything alive turns crunchy beneath your feet as it withers and dies.

What am I trying to say? August 26, 2009 passed just as any other day yet it did mark four years sobriety and it was nine years ago that day that I moved out and left my ex-husband. September 5, 2009 still looms in the near future and with it comes the painful memory of my appendix rotting and doctors telling me there was no sign of Crohn’s and that it was just a bad case of gangrenous appendicitis. Right! Three weeks later in 1997 I was having 11 inches of bowel removed and weighed a ghastly 98 pounds. Sorry, but you doctors at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Halifax should never have sent me home to Fredericton. I wasn’t even eating solid food eight days post-op after you silly doctors cut and stapled my abdomen crooked.

If I had remained a wife, September 5th, would’ve marked my eleventh wedding anniversary.

Today… today…
I, saw him again
Today
Today…

So what do you do when memories cloud your judgment? I turned inwards and let it ride and grew some purple skinned potatoes with my mom.

The Physical Withdrawal VS the Mental Withdrawal

There are no words to describe how I’m feeling these last few days. The physical withdrawal from nicotine was easy. The mental withdrawal is not so easy.

I’m feeling drawn to use substitutes and am not eating enough. Oddly when most people quit smoking they begin eating more. I’m the opposite. I try to control something, e.v.e.r.y.thing…

The first few days I had this low grade anxiety which was tolerable. It’s turned into a massive tight chested fight for my dignity. My concentration is nil. Nada! I really don’t know where to turn. My ADD is rearing it’s ugly head badly and I’m depressed and anxious and tired of reading that it will pass and to do something else instead. I’m sleeping more than I’m awake right now.

And I never did seek treatment after being diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). This diagnosis was the final one as the GAD, PTSD, Addiction and OCD are all but symptoms of ADD in adult women. How’s that for a mouthful. And most of us aren’t diagnosed until our mid-thirties.

I have an appointment to see a councilor (not free) on Friday and I’m going to make an appointment with my family doc (free) and call West (not free) to get my medical files sent (not free) here.

And really, this struggle is ongoing for me. Most days are good but the last few months have been hard. And yes, I did buy a house but it’s a rent to own agreement. I’m not rich folks… my income is small. I just go without and I don’t know anymore what the reason is that I quit smoking. I regret it because it’s turned all the little molehills into mountains within my mind.

I’ve re-read that book “Easy Way to Quit Smoking” 5 times? It is super easy to quit but not for someone with Mental Health issues.

I feel like my brain is missing it’s jolt. ZAPP… now you can concentrate for an hour uninterrupted. Go be a productive human being Ms. Jessica Doyle.

I must be one of the few people who actually loves to smoke. Frack!

Secret #5 – Stop Smoking

Twenty years have come and gone since I picked up my first cigarette and smoked it. I like it you know.
the taste the feel, the way it filled my lungs and how it circled upwards twirling into the air once exhaled. It has always visually entranced me…

About three years ago I stopped smoking indoors. Yes, the amount I smoked decreased somewhat but that’s not the fucking point. And yes,
I’m somewhat grumpy
somewhat heaving
somewhat lazy and mourning
and saying good bye to a companion whose been by my side
for two
decades

The fallacy of smoking is that it’s wonderful for a person like me who moves from one extreme to another… the harder it is to do something the more I’ll find a way to continue doing it
braving sub-zero temperatures…

72 hours ago I put out my last cigarette.

And for all you Etsy sellers and yes this is on my mind you demonizing little forum writers… not all smokers, smoke inside and not all smokers touch their artwork with smokey hands. I am/was diligent with washing my hands and keeping myself clean.

And maybe I’m lashing out right now. It’s been so quiet. All I want to do is cry but all that does is make me sad and want to curl up into a little ball and sleep. My focus sucks. My creative energy has all but gone into the fog that’s rolling in from the bay outside. My chest feels heavy and I know it’s only because for once I’m getting adequate amounts of oxygen into my lungs. But you know what I want that vile cigarette.

I bought a house this week! Happy! but here I am crying like a baby about a cigarette. Why today is it bugging me so much!

I quit in 1997 for 13 months after my appendix ruptured and was literally rotting inside me. I had morphine to cope with withdrawal so smoking didn’t really matter when I could pump drugs directly into my blood stream.

I quit in 2003 for 19 months using Zyban. Mmm what to say about that except Zyban mentally can mess with your psyche pretty bad. Be for-warned.

I quit for 2 days in 2006. On the third day the DEA raided my office in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Yeah, so I relapsed and began smoking again. Fuck that I said. I want my crutch and I want it now. Those men have rifles pointed at me and there arresting my friends.

so here we are in 2009.
72 hours into quitting and I’m honestly fine.
Are you reading between those lines?
I read a book called “Allen Carr’s EASY way to quit smoking”.
I think it slightly hypnotized me. Needless to say I’m damn lonely right now.
NOT one of my closest girlfriends is a non-smoker.
THEY ALL SMOKE! 90% of the females aged 25 to 45 where I live, smoke.
And guess what!
The men don’t unless they are aged 45 to 65.
WTF?

I’ll tell you though… physical withdrawal from nicotine is NOTHING! It’s a wee little blip in time. It can’t even kill you.

It’s nothing compared to the wee seizures, bone chilling shaking extremities, skin eruptions, low blood pressure, hallucinations and psychosis from GHB withdrawal that can actually kill you dead.