Musings On Drug Use

(Please note that this was written prior to the last post when I was still using Methadone)

Here I sit in the library with heavy eyelids and a bright view of the future. My eyelids are heavy due to the methadone I have injected today - all of yesterday's dose - which combined with today's dose that I drank this morning is having precisely the effect I had hoped for.

Although I remain committed to sobriety I am still in love with opiates - in fact I think I always will be. That is the most difficult aspect of drug addiction to wrap my head around - drugs make you feel good. Sure there are negative effects but with opiates generally those negative effects are few are far between and in any case are primarily caused by the illegal nature of the substances rather than the substances themselves. For example, one negative effect of opiates is their addictive nature. However, if they were not illegal there would be little danger of running out and one could avoid the negative consequences and associated panic of withdrawal. Of course this leaves out the aspect of being beholden to a drug. It is not nice to know that you need any substance, but my need for opiates is hardly different for my need for the medication that keeps my glaucoma under control and protects me from blindness. In both cases the substance in question treats a malady and must be kept in regular supply to avoid serious consequences, yet one class of drug is treated very differently by society than the other.
Of course there is also the aspect of cognitive deficiency caused by using opiates; while I admit the deficiency caused is rather mild and cannot compare to the cognitve impairments caused by drugs such as marijuana or methamphetamine.
So we are left with the question of "why?" What factor or factors exist that motivate my decision to cease using drugs. A primary one is that opiates sap me of my motivation; of my will to do...anything. Also, they give me comfort by insulating me from the hurt of being alive. However by insulating me they also cut me off from full engagement with the world and therefore from a complete understanding of my problems and the path to their resolution. What use is being alive if I am not willling to engage in life; to be honest with myself in regard to my shortcomings and sincerely ask myself what can be done to be a better man.

Methadone Withdrawal - 65mg to Nothing

Plans don't always work out the way you intended; sometimes it's for the best and other times maybe it seems like you've make a great big fuck up - and then later you realize it was the best choice you could have made. I am hoping the choice I made a week ago was indeed correct but only time will tell.

Over the last 3 months I have been trying to get off Methadone. I was up to 100mg per day and felt like it was starting to affect my ability to concentrate, not to mention the many other cognitive skills that are useful when one is trying to complete a psychology degree. Therefore I made the decision to move into a small apartment attached to my parent's house so I could get away from the drug filled and permissive environment I was in at that time and work on reducing my Methadone over the next few months.

Being in a new environment I found it easy to stop smoking marijuana and cigarettes. Well, easy is may not the best word, but it wasn't as hard as I expected. Now 3 months later I've only had one small slip up (as described in a previous post). As far as the Methadone I have been gradually reducing my dose every few weeks until last Friday when I was down to 65mg per day.

The plan was for me swap from Methadone to another drug called Suboxone (buprenorphine) and then taper me down to having nothing by the time I was to enter rehab on the 31st of October.

Now the thing with Suboxone is that for it to work your opiate receptors have to be clear of any other opioids. In other words you have to be in withdrawal, so instead of my usual two takeaway doses I was only given one dose for Saturday and nothing for Sunday. Being the bad boy I am and wanting to enjoy one last hit I injected the takeaway dose I had been given that same day knowing I could get through the weekend without too much discomfort. I figured it was my last chance anyway and so worth the extra discomfort.

Come Monday I was feeling alright as I was driving to the clinic. I was feeling so good in fact that I pulled over and thought about what I was doing: I was off to take a drug to help me get off another drug. It didn't seem to make sense to me especially considering that I was feeling far better than expected. So, I turn my vehicle around and headed back home.

The nurse from the clinic later called to ask where I was. I explained why I hadn't come and she was quite supportive and even offered me some diazepam if I needed it that night to sleep. It's not like I am going turn down Valium being the druggie that I am, and it did take the edge off my anxiety about what was to come and helped me sleep.

My symptoms have gradually gotten worse through the week but to seem to be evening off a little now.   Sleep has not been great even though I have been almost completely free of what, in the past, has been my worse withdrawal symptom - restless arms and legs - but then that is probably due to the Valium I have been taking.

So it's been a whole week now. I've come too far to stop now. I crave a shot of something nice but it wouldn't be that easy to get it being that I have put so much distance between me and my old suppliers. At this stage I feel really tired yet not confident that I'll get the sleep I crave tonight or any night soon. I also feel very emotional. I was actually in tears listening to John Lennon earlier and I feel them coming on again just thinking about it. So best I leave you now. Talk again soon and sorry for the rambling post - my brain isn't at its best.

Morphine Hot Shot Then Back On Track

I apologize for having taken so long to get around to writing this post. It feels as though the great enthusiasm and mental clarity I felt in my first few weeks of sobriety has waned and has now been replaced with the heavy burden of the reality and seriousness of the huge task that lies before me. The more my dose of methadone reduces the more I struggle with the craving to have more - always more.
 This past week there was one particular day on which, after taking my dose of methadone for the day, I felt completely unsatisfied. I just couldn't bear the thought of only having my prescribed dose the next day - I needed more. So I made a call and arranged to buy some morphine. I did this thinking that I would be able to then take it to another guy who would have the necessary chemicals to turn the morphine into heroin. Unfortunately when I got to this house I found out that the necessary chemical was scarce all through the opiate using community. There was a possibility of getting some if I waited around, but that was something that even the prospect of a good hit wasn't enough to convince me was something I wanted to do. Instead I thought "bugger this, I'll just go home and inject the morphine straight". Very bad idea as it turned out.
 Injecting morphine is never very pleasant as it is accompanied by a large release of histamine in the the body. The histamine causes a sensation of prickling, itchiness and flushing of the skin; however, it is usually manageable. Having been quite some time since my last injection of straight non-treated morphine I must have lost my tolerance for histamine or something because as I slowly depressed the plunger on this dose I felt the largest more uncomfortable sensation that has ever accompanied any injection of mine. I hadn't even gotten a third of the way through the dose when the prickling started. I rubbed my neck and face to try to alleviate the itch and stopped pressing the plunger any further in while I waited for the wave of histamine to pass. Instead it just kept building and building until I pulled the needle out and collapsed on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor with blood pouring out of my arm and the sensation of someone hitting my head with a sledge hammer over and over again. BOOM  BABOOM  BOOM BABOOM - the drumming of pain continued in my head. I didn't know what was happening. I was scared and my whole head felt like it was on fire. I stumbled to the cold tap still dripping blood all over the flood and my clothes. I grabbed a washcloth, soaked it in cold water and  tried to cool my burning skin down in a futile effort to feel a little better. At least the prickly sensation was gone but the pounding in my head remained. I cleaned myself up as best I could and stumbled into the lounge to google "pounding headache morphine injection". I quickly found numerous similar stories  generally from people new to injecting or who had injected too much. Many thought it might be caused by bacteria in the injected morphine solution, but the mention that morphine could raise intracranial pressure had me convinced that was what I had experienced; added to the fact that it had been a long time since my body had to deal with the injection of that substance. My body was protesting my stupidity and abuse. "Never again" I told myself.
 I have started on the road to sobriety and I owe it to myself to see what I can accomplish without the reliance of drugs in my life. I know that one day I'll use some heroin but that will only be when I have accomplished full engagement with life. When I have overcome my secrets from myself and can look at myself honestly in the mirror and say "what a beautiful day to be alive".

Smooth Sailing On Methadone Seas: The Myth of Self Control

One day after another comes and goes, and every day and in every way I'm getting better and better.

Ok, maybe not every way but I am making progress!

I slipped once in my journey to abstinence from marijuana, and if not for that I would have been clean from smoking anything for over a month now.

It happened like this:

Sitting here one night feeling a little bored and, maybe because of the boredom, a little anxious also. I remembered that I still had my marijuana pipe so I got it out, along with my little tin that I used for storing my drugs in, and had a bit of a scrapping session.

Now as most of you will know marijuana can be a little sticky at times and because of this a little of the resin from the outside of the flowers ends up stuck to the surface of whatever container you use to store it in. If you have ever tried hashish...well its the same thing.

I was able to scrape up enough of the stuff to half fill the bowl of my small pipe. I smoked it and sat back on the couch. As the high started coming on, along with the stoned feeling came a feeling of uneasiness. I felt stoned but it wasn't enjoyable. I thought back to all I had been through to keep myself in a steady supply of this stuff and wondered "why?".

In the past few weeks I had been really enjoying the new clarity of thought and greater ability to focus. I had been able to read again and actually follow a story without having to go back multiple times to re-read the same piece I had just read but forgotten because my mind had drifted off to some faraway place. It's little wonder that my studies had become so difficult. I had attributed my difficulty to the increase in my methadone dose but I knew now that was clearly not the whole story.

I knew that in order to avoid a repeat of this experience - a momentary desire for drugs that once satisfied would leave me with a sense of deep regret - I had to remove the ability to quench the thirst. If there were absolutely no drugs around, no pipes and no needles, then no matter how great the desire I would not be able to do anything about it.

Right there and then I gathered up everything to do with drugs all my tools and supplies, and put them all in a bag. I immediately took them out to my car so I wouldn't forget to do so in the morning. The next day I dropped by the needle exchange, explained what I was doing and handed over all my gear.

I have not smoked anything in the two weeks since that night but I have still been struggling with the desire to inject my methadone. So using the same philosophy I have arranged to change the place I pick up my methadone to the Alcohol & Drug clinic. This means that I don't need to drive into the city to pick up my methadone and therefore won't go near the needle exchange and the needles I need to inject methadone with.

It all comes down to this: Self control is a myth. If you really want to modify your behaviour you must realize this fact and put systems into place that take account of your times of weakness and prevent you from slipping when you are at your weakest points.

Struggles with craving - its beginning again!

Well, here I am again. My brain is running out of artificially induced serotonin, the "feel good" neurotransmitter so I find myself wanting...something, anything that will give me another shot of that substance.
When this weekend arrives I will have been clean of marijuana and nicotine for three weeks - now that's the longest I have been without either of those intoxicants for the past two years or more! The marijuana has been easy by virtue of the fact I have removed myself from the environment in which I was in where everybody around me (even the neighbours) were regular smokers. I think that is the single biggest deciding factor. I mean it's not that I haven't wanted to stop for a long time; its just that my attempts have all been pretty half-hearted knowing as I have that sooner or later I would be offered a smoke by someone and that I would not have the willpower to say "no". Now that I don't have that issue, and because there are no easily obtainable sources close by by new house, it is just so much easier to resist the urge.
With cigarettes, the change of environment has also helped immensely. Once again, there are no smokers around, therfore, I am not being constantly subjected to the idea of smoking (although Hollywood doesn't help us much on that front!). With all these factors falling into place getting to this point has been about environment more than willpower. I think that the most important lesson I have learned in my journey through addiction is that we really don't have any willpower; rather, it's all about setting up a situation where temptation is removed and there ceases to be any need for willpower. However, now I am at this point and the chemicals are really clearing from my system, my brain is noticing this lack of pleasure-giving serotonin and sending the message that to remedy the situation I should seek out a cigarette and a joint. I just have to keep telling my brain that I am doing this for its own good, and that it will thank me further down the line. Once my body and brain reach a state approximating homeostasis then things will be a hell of a lot better for both my body and my brain. For now I just have to keep reminding myself of that fact and stick with the nicotine patches and lots of long walks to keep myself away from temptation.

I sure would appreciate any advice people have to offer...

Setbacks and Progress and Setbacks and Progress

Please excuse my absence from this blog. I have had a difficult few months really. Things were going OK for a while. I was still using but after my last attempt at rehab nearly two years ago I had managed to keep things reasonably stable. My usual schedule of use was to inject a 30mg shot of 'homebake heroin' about once every ten days or so. The problem with such a schedule is that you are always fighting incredible cravings in between times of use.

Eventually I went to see the alcohol and drug service and informed them of the situation - that I was using again and that that use was starting to creep up again. I requested to be put on some sort of opiate replacement therapy and they suggested dihydrocodeine (DHC). For a while this was a good measure. The craving was brought under control but I didn't stop using - I was merely more competent at maintaining a steady level of use rather than gradually using more drugs more often. Of course, as most of you with experience of addiction know, anytime the stress levels creep up so does the drug use.

Adding to my problems with drugs are my problems with social anxiety. In an attempt to self-medicate this disorder, when there was some anxiety-causing social engagement I was due to attend I would combine a couple of days DHC pills (I would get takeaways for the weekend) with a shot of 'homebake heroin' to help calm my nerves. Rather than being a significant aid to my social anxiety issues this practice just made me a boring party guest with a tendency of throwing up far earlier than my hosts would believe was attributable to drinking, and making me look foolish as well as an obvious drug user.

As time progressed the effect of the DHCs was counteracted by tolerance so I transitioned on to methadone. With some effort I managed to institute some beneficial changes. I joined the gym and moved to the country. I was even able to get back into studying toward my psychology degree. For a while things became quite settled and it seemed that going over to methadone had been a wise decision. It even had a significant benefit on my social anxiety. Life seemed to be going peachily.

I have always been attracted to, not only the high that opiates gives, but also the act of injecting. As my relationship with my flatmates at my new accomodation deteriorated and as the stress of exams started looming I began to inject my methadone further and further in advance. This behavior led to my tolerance rapidly increasing. This began a terrible pattern that was bound to end in disaster: I would complain to my case manager at the alcohol and drug service that the methadone wasn't doing what it should. She would put my dose up, and I continued to inject. Before I knew it I hit 100mg of methadone per day and my brain hit slowdown in a big way. Come exam time I was so far behind I didn't even bother sitting them. I got into a major argument with my flatmate and was asked to leave the flat.

Now here I am a few weeks later and things have started to improve. I have managed to stop smoking both marijuana and cigarettes for over two weeks and have reduced my methadone down to 95mg per day. I was able to get a medical dispensation for not sitting my exams because my work had been quite good throughout the year, and I am due to go to a residential rehab program in just under two months time. If I can manage to wean myself off methadone in the next two months and stay off the other drugs then I feel like I will have a really good chance of getting clean once and for all. I know there is a hell of a lot of work to do in the meantime but I feel really positive and hopeful about the future. I feel that in spite of my many setbacks in the past year I have actually come a long way. Now is the time to consolidate those gains and really grab life by the balls and hold on for all I am worth. The payoff will be worth it I know, and the costs of failure too dismal to contemplate. It can be done and it will be. I will keep you informed along the way.

Methamphetamine

I don’t know what to expect. I’ve had it before and it’s been good, but sometimes it’s been better than others. Furthermore, my memory of speed is polluted with the memory of other similar drugs that have a “speedy effect’ but are not technically speed. Drugs like BZP, and Ritalin (methylphenidate), caffeine and Red Bull (if you can call that last one a drug - but why not?). Also, I have tried a drug called adrafinil, which is in the nootropic or ‘smart drug’ category. Nootropics are not really a speed in that they don’t give you much of a physical feeling of energy - at least not the sort of nervous energy that speed can give you, but rather a type of mental energy, a mental clarity. Nothing is forcefully sped up, but the drug allows the brain to work more efficiently so you feel the feeling of things going faster because your thoughts are able to progress from one to another faster than they would usually be able to go, and therefore, you move faster toward your end goal - psychologically speaking that is. Physically, you are able to move faster on adrafinil because your brain controls your physical actions, and a brain on adrafinil can make decisions about which physical movements to make in less time. I’ve always wondered though about these fantastic rushes I heard of people getting from speed. Heroin at its best has given me some pretty fucking fantastic rushes but definitely not the sort I would imagine you would get from speed (methamphetamine). Heroin covers us in warmth and peace, and makes us feel as though there is a wall that separates everything in the universe that can or has caused us hurt. Speed, I imagined, would be a bolt of lightning to the brain, a physical connection to my higher power outlet, an instant rejuvenation and a feeling of invincibility.

Well, it sort of was like that. I didn’t know how much I should have, so I left it up to my patron.

How about a fifty bag? “Sounds good to me”, I said to him. And then he left me alone with my rites.

As I said, I didn’t really know how much I should have. I may not have known much about speed, but I could see that  this stuff was pure. The word at the local needle exchange was that there was a lot of pure stuff around, and this looked like it. I was pleased about this for two reasons: firstly because pure speed is strong speed, and secondly because pure speed is easily dissolved in water with no need for anything like citric acid or even heat. I had to be careful because I knew that even though the amount I had was a tiny volume, I didn’t know how strong it was. In the end I went for the whole amount at once. I was pretty sure I would want to have all of it and I could always stop half way through injecting it and see how I felt.

I tipped the bags contents out on to the spoon I had prepared and added about half a milliliter to the bag to wash any residue out. A quick stir to make sure all of the drug was dissolved and it was ready to draw into the syringe. I dropped a little bit of a wood-fiber filter into the spoon and drew the clear liquid into the syringe. And then I was ready to fly.

As I readied my tourniquet I couldn’t help but feel nervous. Not so much that anything bad would happen but that not enough would happen. I wanted to be impressed by a shot for once, instead of what I have felt the majority of times I have injected any drug – disappointed and pissed off! I slid the 27-gauge stainless steel needle through the scar-hardened skin of my inner arm and felt the release as the pick entered the vein and the blood within it. I removed the tourniquet and began to slowly but steadily depress the plunger so the 1.5 milliliters of fluid started to leave the plastic chamber and enter the chamber of my flesh. I got to the halfway point and took a quick status check – ‘any sensations?’ ‘Any lightness beginning in the head?’ ‘No, well let’s continue. (I hope this stuff is bloody well going to work!) So I keep pushing the plunger down until the chamber is empty. Then, as I usually do, keeping the needle in the vein I draw a half ml of blood into the syringe with the theory in mind that it will wash any remaining amount of the drug out of the syringe and into the bloodstream. Then I sit back and wait for the drug to hit – but there is nothing… oh, wait! There’s something. My chest is expanding. There is a warmth spreading from my chest up the back of my neck and rippling through my scalp. It’s getting stronger. It’s not stopping! OH MY FUCKING JESUS CHRIST!! THIS IS FUCKING FANTASTIC!!!! It feels like the fog is lifting and my brain is all of a sudden alive again. I like this and want more.