Tag Archives: GHB

967 days later…

Memories accumulate over time interlacing overlapping each other causing fog to form at the base of one’s understanding. We see people in passing who at one time understood us; perhaps even loved us and whom we used to love to. They dwell between the nether regions of our souls; a place dark perhaps distraught from years of neglect and solitude.

When you see what it really is
that is what you’ll “get”
Got it?

I don’t know why I saw her tonight. I don’t know why she was there dancing. I couldn’t understand the memories that surged yet understood why and how they became.

We ingested copious amounts of drugs together. We partied days at a time. Not hours. Nor evenings. Days. 72 hours? 3 days turned into weeks for me. Months. Years. Passed.

It broke tonight. The craving for intoxication. Annihilation. Emptiness. I saw her and all that was is. All that will be was forgotten.

Nine hundred and sixty seven days later I remain sober of GHB.

Fuck, the last two weeks became stupendously hard for me and I don’t know why. It was all I could do but work, draw, write, sleep, not sleep, be, not be, freak silently while the cravings raced over me, through me and around me. How can this be? How!!! Talking to someone here in this freaking city is irrelevant. People here in this small town have no clue. NONE.

So, I will talk to you. You who will not judge, nor react. You who will accept. You the unknown, the present tense of life.

It melted away tonight. As quickly as it hit, two weeks later it melted, evaporated. It’s been a long long time since I’ve craved like this. Maybe the longest it has ever lasted since I quit. The whole of the month of April, 2008 has nearly strangled me with… the words just don’t exist to continue writing right now.

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Four Years or So to Go

In October of 2005 I began taking Diazapam, better known as Valium. Having become suicidal from my detox from GHB, diazapam relieved the 24/7 anxiety, lack of focus, fear and shame associated with most, if not all drug detoxification’s. Valium alleviated my symptoms. At 10mg’s a day I entered into another addiction. This one prescribed.

Seven months, nine tapered milligrams and countless crazy withdrawal effects later I, Jessica Doyle on June 12, 2006 will be free of Diazapam.

Memories have been surging up through the fog in my mind along with emotions almost too much to contain since quitting GHB on August 26, 2005. I have ceased trying to contain them. The memories are coming forth following a timeline. This timeline began long ago as a child. It progress’ as my [tag]sober[/tag] day count progress’. During treatment I recall talking to my councilor saying “I feel as though I’m 12 years old”, then “…17 years old”, “…27 years…” and re-living vividly, events, as though I was there, experiencing them again. As the memories good and bad push forward to the present, my past is accepted and put to rest.

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Sober since August 26th, 2005.

This is me 11

Today is day 200. I’ve been clean of GHB for 200 days. I’m proud of that fact. I used once three weeks into my sobriety and re-committed again. I had two glasses of wine this past weekend on Saturday night and have re-committed again. I find myself hitting a tuff spot. It’s not that I want the G back but I find myself searching for something, anything to change or alter my state of mind. This feeling is familiar to me, 20 years familiar. Truth is, it feels like my life has been cycling in three or four year cycles. I’m in the down time right now. More than ever I know it’s crucial to keep going and focus. Focus being the elusive enlightenment I crave the most.

This is me 21

My ex-husband used to say, I would look for problems when there was none to be found, only happy in a tumultuous non-routine life. Today, f@#$! Am I searching for someone to blame… You betcha! Who in their right mind wants to blame themselves. I’ve been blaming myself most of my life! I don’t understand why it’s not ok to talk about addiction and/or mental disease. If sites like http://www.recovery.com talk about it all the time, why don’t we?

But who is saying it’s not OK? Is it you? Or is it me? Is it an ideal created by society? Such as what fashions are OK to wear and what ones are not?

I’m so tired of hiding the crazy side in me. It’s agonizing. I am so scared of what people will think? OMG! I have to let that go. I don’t even know who these people are. Are you one of the ones who will judge me because I’m crazy and like to wear orange pants on occasion? OK this is making me laugh. It’s been difficult to write by hand lately in my journal. I have this online journal now. I’ve been swaying back and forth, to and fro to write or not to write about what I want to write about online. Well – decision made.

This is me 3

This is the web space I payed for. Money. f@#$. See I’m censoring myself. For who?

Fuck I feel better. There.

On to business. There is this project I’ve been planning to undertake for the past two years perhaps, of typing into the computer all of my journal entries, so they are digitized. I will be able to edit them better that way. Who knows, maybe I’ll be the next James Fry. A Million Little Pieces, whether non-fiction or not, is only so, in the eyes of the beholder reading it. This book held my attention for five days until I finished reading it! He understands.

Another book I could not put down was “Addicted – notes from the belly of the beast”. It is a collection of short ‘true’ stories of writers lives and the addictions they have succumbed too, lived with, recovered from or are still dealing with.

The more one reads, reaches out, talks about the more one understand and accepts. Knowing I am not alone in my struggles and joy is inspirational.

Perhaps, drug use and the creative mind go hand in hand?