Five weeks ago today- January 29th- I got supremely pissed off and decided to quit opiates after 4 years of daily use of both oxycodone and fentanyl. Because I'm the kind of stubborn bitch that does things like that. Today, I recall very little before February 24th. So 3+ weeks of my recent life are like memories of childhood. A scene here, a snapshot there. I'm glad I felt free to blog, because ti's the record I'll be using without commentary between, in the book. My head's clearing. Slowly.
My bod, on the other hand, is still pretty pissed at me. This is mostly de rigueur for detox, but it's also my own fault for the way I did it. Seriously, I never thought about the drugs I was doing. Never crossed my mind I was opiate addicted once. Or that getting off them would be a nightmare. A former junkie friend told me it's like having the flu for 3 months, and yes, it is like the flu for 2 weeks now. I don't really remember much before then except for falling often, a lot of lunatic laughing and hallucinations.
But I do feel immensely free. There are no schedules to keep, no worries about "drug runs" being on time, no terrible rashes from the fentanyl adhesive, no swelling from the oxy, no need to see my doctor or deal with that office. My life doesn't operate around my drugs. They're going and I get it all back. I'm laughing again. I'm making art. I'm writing like I haven't since college. I still love ELP! I've rediscovered Led Zep! I've rediscovered music in general!
It's been worth whatever hell I put myself and everyone else thru. Like I said, I'll keep making my apologies. It's practically a miracle I'm still alive. Guess Valhalla doesn't need my services yet. ;)
The Door Is Ajar.
5 days ago