Methadone Maintenance

Descending Cont.

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I decided to postpone my methadone dose today. I figured I would go to work and test myself a little bit knowing I would have no choice but to wait till the evening. I wanted to see how long I could go before feeling like I couldn’t take it anymore. I was fine for most of the day, besides severe anxiety/ panic and those terrible yawns that make it hard to breathe; I was okay. Although after taking my dose, I felt sick to my stomach and threw up. Whether or not there is any methadone left in me; I don’t know. I will have to wait and find out. I lowered my dose down 5mg yesterday, so maybe I didn’t pick the best day to “test” myself.

I know sometimes relapsing is just a part of addiction. Habits are generally hard to break, whatever they might be. I think instead of looking at a relapse as a defeat, maybe it’s beneficial to look at it as a chance to learn, an opportunity. I don’t think it’s worth thinking that anything less than perfect is a total failure. It just leads you to think that you don’t have the willpower. Life is full of ups and downs, good days and bad; sometimes urges and temptations can come out of no where, without any warning. Small problems that may seem insignificant at the time can slowly build and eventually or suddenly push you over the edge. For a lot of addicts it’s not always how that day might be going, but maybe it’s a matter of hours, minutes, or seconds. Everyone is different and therefore everyone will have different ways of dealing with their circumstances. For me; having realistic goals helps me, thing’s I had forgotten about while being wrapped up in addiction. I am mending broken relationships with friends and family, enjoying simple thing’s I had lost. I haven’t relapsed this time, I don’t plan on it, and I don’t think anyone does. But you never know what tomorrow has in store.

I figure the real celebration isn’t always the day you quit, or even the 5, 10, or 20 year anniversary. It’s every day, every hour, every second you are sober. And every day you get back on track after a relapse.

Either way, I know I am strong enough both mentally and physically. I know I can handle the withdrawals. It’s what comes once the withdrawals have ended; it’s how you handle situations without that last crutch. Am I ready for that? Yes.  I am not about to start second guessing myself now.

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Within the next couple weeks I will be coming off methadone; again. To say I am terrified is an understatement. I have a million different things running through my mind, and failure is one of them. Obviously I don’t want to fail; I know addiction and I know that sometimes willpower isn’t enough. I have to continue to remind myself that I am in a different place than I was. I know who I am, and I know what I want.

As I am getting closer to the final dose, I am mentally and emotionally preparing. I know that in that moment I am going to feel helpless, weak, insecure, and scared. I know that it is going to take everything out of me physically and mentally. I know that I am going to want to give up and give in but I know that giving up isn’t an option. I can only go up from there; I can’t feel any worse than I have in the past. I have done it before and although it is torture, it is achievable.

I still think back to the first time I had ever experienced a high, and although it was almost 11 years ago I remember everything about that night. I remember deciding that I never wanted to face reality again; reality was way too real for me. I was young and naïve, but I knew enough to know that I didn’t like how I felt and I didn’t like who I was. My past has given me the strength to do this,  my past has made me who I am, and for the first time in my life I can say I like who I am.

The Waiting List

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My dealer, my ‘friend’, my friend with benefits, the guy who I used, the guy who used me; he got arrested. I wasn’t in any immediate panic as I had just bought a bottle of fifty 80mg Oxys. I knew I had time. But nothing lasts forever. It was December 29th 2010 and I was running low, it had been about a month since the arrest. I figured this was my time to quit, I could get clean. I started researching methadone clinics close by. I found a government methadone clinic that wasn’t too far and I decided to take a drive and get it sorted out. When I arrived I felt like all eyes were on me, everyone in that plaza, in that parking lot knew who I was and what I was doing. They looked down at me, like I was an animal. I didn’t deserve respect because I was a low life. As I entered the glass door I noticed the place was empty for the exception of a few nurses and receptionists. Immediately I wanted to run but before I could I was approached by a kind nurse asking if I needed help. Of course I needed help! The withdrawals were coming with a vengeance and they could see it. I filled out a stack of paperwork and had to have a medical evaluation. I thought great! I will walk out of here with a prescription that could potentially save my life, I thought I would have a good new year, and I would be fine to go out for my brother’s  birthday. Everything was falling into place and I had a sense of relief. After a 45 minute medical evaluation I was told to go have a seat in the waiting room. Eventually I was called up to the reception desk which was behind a glass window; like a prison. I was told they would put me on a waiting list and I would be called when they had the space for me. I turned white, I started to cry, I was embarrassed, and I was scared. A waiting list, I asked how long? They told me that they didn’t know, it could be a month, a year.

I walked out of that office shaking, crying, cold, hot, and empty. I felt defeated. If they couldn’t help me, who could? I could barely help myself. My options were slim, I desperately called every dealer I knew, I asked anyone and everyone; frantically. I didn’t want my parents to find out that I was using again. I knew the withdrawals were going to be bad. I had used every single day all day for almost 9 months; I hadn’t gone an hour without. Now I had nothing.

I was sitting at the dinner table on January 2nd 2011; it was my brother’s birthday. My parents asked me if I was feeling okay. I said I thought I was getting the flu. Within an hour my face was turning grey, my arm was turning blue and I couldn’t breathe properly. It was time, I had to tell them. We left for the hospital; my heart had stopped pumping blood to the rest of my body. I felt nothing but guilt and shame, it was my brother’s birthday and I had managed to ruin it. I took everything from him, everything was always about me, and my parents were always focused on me. He already resented me enough, and I couldn’t apologize. I had managed to ruin everything, again and it wouldn’t be the last time.

A vicious cycle; I couldn’t get methadone, I was on a waiting list. So what was I supposed to do? I had to get drugs. Luckily after a while I found a private clinic which happens to be my family doctor who runs an addiction clinic. I was lucky, others aren’t.

A Day At The Methadone Clinic

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I’ve been seeing the same faces every week for 3 years at the methadone clinic. But it seems new faces have been appearing more and more; so many people who can relate to each other and don’t even know it. Few of us have gotten to know each other better, and we are able to talk and somewhat help each other out; it’s almost like having a group therapy session. People from all walks of life go weekly to maintain their sobriety, if you consider methadone patients clean. I do, because I am one of them. If it wasn’t for my daily dose of methadone I don’t know where I’d be. I am however aware that I will have to come off of it at some point, I just have to make sure I’m ready this time.

I’ve heard and seen heartbreaking stories of people’s struggles with addiction. Everything from domestic disputes, to deaths, to amputations. Sometimes these stories are sad, sometimes scary, sometimes inspiring, but always unique. It is a place full of sadness, despair, hurt, anger, but it also has happiness, strength, empathy, and most of all it is a place that has hope. Although some may not agree with methadone or suboxone; it’s a fact that these medications have saved lives. It has given people an opportunity at a new life, a job, a career, a family; again it has given people hope. Hope is priceless; hope is something that can change a person’s life. Hope is a possibility, and sometimes that remote possibility becomes a reality.

I used to want to hide my face while walking into the methadone clinic. I didn’t want people to know anything about me; I didn’t want people to judge me. Thing’s have changed and I now walk in there proudly. I am proud that I have made it this far, proud that I am still breathing, proud that I have a future, and happy that I have hope. I have found a place where I am not judged, a place where everyone can relate one way or another. All I can do is make the best out of the situation, and that’s what I have done. At the end of the day, like it or not; we all look up at the same set of stars.