Reviewing the mid- & early February posts of when I went cold turkey, then listened to reasonable people and did the step-downs. What a long strange trip it was.
I remember writing these posts, remember sitting here concentrating in order to type. I have some short films in my head of incidents that I've been debating whether to include. I didn't put any of these things in my daily blogging, just accumulated the wildest parts for later evaluation. The Mercury in Aries took over. But I don't remember any of living thru them. Much of the time I was stepped out of myself, just like being on acid; there was little of reality recognizable around me to me. But it was all hilarious; I remember that. Not to my friends and family, they were horrified. It was just a laugh riot to me. I've heard that when you go cold turkey you react as you do when smashed; however you act when pie-eyed is how you'll be when detoxing. I happen to be a laugher. So watching my left leg kick my right leg out from under me was funny. Falling face first again and again was hysterical. Watching my arms and legs do things independent of my control was fascinating and hilarious. Those were real events and I had the bruises to show for them. But I had no idea, of course, that I was hallucinating when I was. It seemed perfectly normal that my husband, dead for 16+ years, materialized and followed me out of the bathroom. I don't remember what I said to him. He was total reassurance to me, that everything was gonna be okay and I should just go to sleep. With my life, I don't know what to think of it. When I write about it for the book, maybe I'll explore it further. For now I'd rather not think too hard on it. The whole thing was like tripping, and not a bad trip. I'm just grateful and glad it's over and opiates are out of my life.
Among the good things I'm fortunate to have restored now are my energy and focus. I still get tired pretty quickly in comparison to when I was healthier but it's nothing like the zombie walk on fentanyl and oxy. I never got anything done on that shit- it was always day after day of slow progress. Neither my brain nor body could sustain focused action for long. That's gone. I don't think I could handle this move if I was still using that crapola.
Like the t-shirt about tattoos says, "Of course it's painful." It is. Very. So what? I'm gonna live however many more years being pathetic because of pain? No. I've got Me back. Fuck the pain. It is not the boss of Me. I'll ignore it til I can't and when I can't I'll curse it and rest. But it and its minions don't rule my life and never will again.
It was worth every minute.
The Door Is Ajar.
5 days ago