My husband went to the new clinic today, and they told him that as long as he will participate in 2 of their group therapy sessions each week, they'll continue to dose him regardless of the amount of money he has. The director of the program said that they will let him know with plenty of advance notice if they are going to have to cut him off for any reason, and that they will work with him for as long as they can.
I'm really, really happy for him. It's like a window has opened in his life. I'm glad to find at least one person working in the substance abuse treatment field in our city who is interested in helping someone.
He is struggling, and I am struggling with how he is struggling. I'm in his business in all kinds of unhealthy ways. I'm thinking that I'm going to have to go back to the steps to learn how to deal with my husband when he's on a healthier path.
Apparently, I've graduated from God's course in Detaching from my Addict Husband 101, and God has signed me up for Detaching from my Recovering Husband: 102. Yay. I get to learn new hard things.
I'm feeling a little overwhelmed in every area of my life. I've been helping my husband out too much and succumbing to his every whim. He is weak and sick and needy, and I will stay home from my yoga classes to sit with him and make sure he's ok. I've expressed to him several times that I am not going to be able to fulfill his every need, but I do want to be here for him while he's in this transition.
I am so proud of him. I have never seen him stick to something for this long. He's been to a meeting every day since he got out of the hospital. It's not an eternity, but it's a major step for my husband. He has real struggles with following through on his commitments, and he's doing it this time. And just like when we were first married, I am letting my world shrink around him. I'm letting him be my best friend, my lover, my god, my source of entertainment and validation and humor and everything. My new struggle is how to continue growing and living my own life, even when he's doing well.
If I've learned anything about myself in this process, though, it's that I'm persistent in seeking out my truth. I have some character defects, but I also have some real strengths. I won't stop looking for my own peace, and I'll find my way.
Showing posts with label methadone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label methadone. Show all posts
Friday, December 12, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Hope?
My husband spoke with someone at a different methadone clinic in town today, and it seems like they might be willing to work with him while his Medicaid application is in process. I'm not sure what they will do, but it's a state-run facility instead of a for-profit one like he's going to now, so maybe they will be gentler with the fees.
I'm feeling hopeful that they will be able to help him out. He's feeling pretty hopeless.
His mother dropped by the house today. She thought he'd be getting some take-home bottles of methadone, and she wanted him to give her one. He's lost his take-home privileges because of his hospital stay, so he's off his regular schedule.
It makes me so, so angry. He doesn't have any extra methadone. He's facing a real crisis about his ability to access his medicine, and she thinks she needs some of it? Because she wants to get high? So he should be sick?
Fucking addicts.
I have a lot of things brewing, but I don't know what to say about them all. I'm overwhelmed, but I'm grateful that there's at least a crack in a window for my husband.
I'm feeling hopeful that they will be able to help him out. He's feeling pretty hopeless.
His mother dropped by the house today. She thought he'd be getting some take-home bottles of methadone, and she wanted him to give her one. He's lost his take-home privileges because of his hospital stay, so he's off his regular schedule.
It makes me so, so angry. He doesn't have any extra methadone. He's facing a real crisis about his ability to access his medicine, and she thinks she needs some of it? Because she wants to get high? So he should be sick?
Fucking addicts.
I have a lot of things brewing, but I don't know what to say about them all. I'm overwhelmed, but I'm grateful that there's at least a crack in a window for my husband.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Why Stop Now?
Someone wrote to me asking me why my husband is detoxing from methadone if the methadone maintenance program had been working for him, and I thought I'd answer here.
First of all, I'm not sure what made him decide to detox so suddenly, not being him. I can tell you what he's said, though...
He has felt like a slave to the clinic for a while now, and he wants freedom. He can't take care of a lot of problems, such as a legal issue that's lurking out there for him, because being able to get to the methadone clinic has been his first priority for a long time. Every time he's had a little money, he's taken it to the clinic before anything else...before paying his bills, before buying groceries, before buying himself something nice. He says he wants to be able to be financially responsible, and freeing up the $300 a month that he's feeding to the methadone clinic will help.
He says he doesn't feel as creative or as emotional as he used to, which changes the way that he sees himself. He wants to be creative again, and he thinks that his drug use has stemmed that.
He says he feels like he's gotten as much out of methadone as he could. It helped him to get a little more stable for the time he was on it, and while it was a great catalyst, it's a dead end now.
He says he wanted to be free from drugs, all drugs, for a long time, and that the only reason he hasn't quit methadone before is because he knew it would be hard. He says that something being hard isn't a good enough reason not to do it if it's the right thing to do.
He says that he's not been able to feel comfortable going to N.A. meetings while he was taking methadone, and he'd like to get serious about the program. He'd like to change his life thoroughly, and not just skim over the surface.
So I think what he's saying is that the methadone maintenance program is not working for him right now. It was a tool for him, a step along the way, but it's served its purpose, and he's ready to move on. He thinks that methadone is a great resource for people getting off of opiates, and I agree. I also agree with him that it's probably not been working for him for some time, and I'm glad he's making the choices that he's made.
And in the end, I don't know. Everything he's saying could be a big fat sack of horseshit. I've been on this roller coaster long enough to know better than to hang on his every word. He could be coming off methadone because he wants to be able to get high again. He could be high right now for all I know...I try not to invest too much of myself in his recovery.
However, this seems different. He's saying things that seem so much more authentic, and he seems to have his head in a really good place. I am grateful for the progress he's making, and I hope that it sticks.
This morning, he was talking about the anxious, sad feelings he has. He says the mornings are the worst time of the day for him right now, but he had a realization today. The feelings that he's facing are what he's asking for. He said it's what he wants back in his life--the ability to feel, and to feel deeply. He said that he's been hiding from feelings for a long time, and so there are going to be some shitty feelings that he'll have to sort through...but that he wants it, and he knows he'll have to get through the rough part to get to the good.
That's right! He said that! Out loud! I didn't say it first for him to repeat back to me. I'd never even thought of that stuff...it was him! To me, these little realizations and little steps that he's taking towards a healthier future are really big. I'm so proud of him today.
First of all, I'm not sure what made him decide to detox so suddenly, not being him. I can tell you what he's said, though...
He has felt like a slave to the clinic for a while now, and he wants freedom. He can't take care of a lot of problems, such as a legal issue that's lurking out there for him, because being able to get to the methadone clinic has been his first priority for a long time. Every time he's had a little money, he's taken it to the clinic before anything else...before paying his bills, before buying groceries, before buying himself something nice. He says he wants to be able to be financially responsible, and freeing up the $300 a month that he's feeding to the methadone clinic will help.
He says he doesn't feel as creative or as emotional as he used to, which changes the way that he sees himself. He wants to be creative again, and he thinks that his drug use has stemmed that.
He says he feels like he's gotten as much out of methadone as he could. It helped him to get a little more stable for the time he was on it, and while it was a great catalyst, it's a dead end now.
He says he wanted to be free from drugs, all drugs, for a long time, and that the only reason he hasn't quit methadone before is because he knew it would be hard. He says that something being hard isn't a good enough reason not to do it if it's the right thing to do.
He says that he's not been able to feel comfortable going to N.A. meetings while he was taking methadone, and he'd like to get serious about the program. He'd like to change his life thoroughly, and not just skim over the surface.
So I think what he's saying is that the methadone maintenance program is not working for him right now. It was a tool for him, a step along the way, but it's served its purpose, and he's ready to move on. He thinks that methadone is a great resource for people getting off of opiates, and I agree. I also agree with him that it's probably not been working for him for some time, and I'm glad he's making the choices that he's made.
And in the end, I don't know. Everything he's saying could be a big fat sack of horseshit. I've been on this roller coaster long enough to know better than to hang on his every word. He could be coming off methadone because he wants to be able to get high again. He could be high right now for all I know...I try not to invest too much of myself in his recovery.
However, this seems different. He's saying things that seem so much more authentic, and he seems to have his head in a really good place. I am grateful for the progress he's making, and I hope that it sticks.
This morning, he was talking about the anxious, sad feelings he has. He says the mornings are the worst time of the day for him right now, but he had a realization today. The feelings that he's facing are what he's asking for. He said it's what he wants back in his life--the ability to feel, and to feel deeply. He said that he's been hiding from feelings for a long time, and so there are going to be some shitty feelings that he'll have to sort through...but that he wants it, and he knows he'll have to get through the rough part to get to the good.
That's right! He said that! Out loud! I didn't say it first for him to repeat back to me. I'd never even thought of that stuff...it was him! To me, these little realizations and little steps that he's taking towards a healthier future are really big. I'm so proud of him today.
Friday, August 1, 2008
The Detox Kitten
Methadone detox is really pretty kind, it seems. At least that's the way it looks at my house. There's been no throwing, no yelling, and minimal twitching. My husband is sad and weepy and miserable like he has a really bad flu. I kind of like him this way. Is that wrong?
I had a brief freakout yesterday. He'd spent some time with his mother, and I started to think they'd been using together. I had no real reason to think that they'd been using together other than that they sometimes use together, and he's detoxing, and they were hanging out. I did the whole projection thing and called friends to talk me sane and help me figure out what it was I was feeling.
Eventually, though, he came home, and he was still sad and sick and miserable. I was so glad to see him sick. Is that wrong?
I'm recognizing that methadone maintenance has given me a lot of peace over the last few months, and I'm afraid of facing life without it. Methadone is its own beast in many ways. My husband's world revolves around when and how he's going to get to the clinic when he's on the methadone program. It's his first priority financially, and it's his first priority in terms of how he lives his life. I like the idea of that being over. I don't like the idea of worrying about him using. I don't like the way it seems like methadone was a buffer for him, softening the edges of the real world. I don't like it that he needs a buffer. I don't like it that I want him to have a buffer.
Sometimes, sitting next to him, it kind of startles me how different our lives are. We live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, shit in the same toilet, eat the same food...but we face the world so differently. He runs from pain. I seem to chase it.
I don't know.
At the meeting last night a lady said the addict in her life, newly clean, seemed to want to be a house cat. He wants to lie around all day on the couch on a soft blanket. He wants everything to be warm and fuzzy and nice. It made me giggle in that way where I was afraid I was being inappropriate, like my head may split open or my eyes pop out or I might have to leave the room.
My husband is a house cat.
I had a brief freakout yesterday. He'd spent some time with his mother, and I started to think they'd been using together. I had no real reason to think that they'd been using together other than that they sometimes use together, and he's detoxing, and they were hanging out. I did the whole projection thing and called friends to talk me sane and help me figure out what it was I was feeling.
Eventually, though, he came home, and he was still sad and sick and miserable. I was so glad to see him sick. Is that wrong?
I'm recognizing that methadone maintenance has given me a lot of peace over the last few months, and I'm afraid of facing life without it. Methadone is its own beast in many ways. My husband's world revolves around when and how he's going to get to the clinic when he's on the methadone program. It's his first priority financially, and it's his first priority in terms of how he lives his life. I like the idea of that being over. I don't like the idea of worrying about him using. I don't like the way it seems like methadone was a buffer for him, softening the edges of the real world. I don't like it that he needs a buffer. I don't like it that I want him to have a buffer.
Sometimes, sitting next to him, it kind of startles me how different our lives are. We live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, shit in the same toilet, eat the same food...but we face the world so differently. He runs from pain. I seem to chase it.
I don't know.
At the meeting last night a lady said the addict in her life, newly clean, seemed to want to be a house cat. He wants to lie around all day on the couch on a soft blanket. He wants everything to be warm and fuzzy and nice. It made me giggle in that way where I was afraid I was being inappropriate, like my head may split open or my eyes pop out or I might have to leave the room.
My husband is a house cat.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Detox Day 3: Redux
I should note, however, that in spite of my grumpiness and glumness and insistence on staying in bed and being miserable, my husband is being something of a detox angel. He's not half so crazy and miserable as he usually is. He's miserable, but it's kind of quiet, and it's not mean at all.
I'm grateful.
I'm grateful.
Friday, July 25, 2008
"I told everyone that you don't give a fuck."
"I told her that you don't give a fuck about me, or how I'll be detoxing, or whether or not I'm comfortable. I told them you didn't want to be involved at all," my husband informed me.
The relative who he's been working for is planning to nurse him through his detox. I'm glad she will do it. I won't do it anymore.
In a lot of ways, he's right. It hurts me that he's telling folks that I don't care about him and presenting me in a nasty way; however, I can't get involved in his decisions right now. I can't be his nurse. I can't spend my money or my time on it.
It's not my natural inclination. My defaults are set to "Help" mode. I WANT to sit next to him, rub his hair, wipe his face with a cool cloth. I just can't do it. I've done it too many times. Detox nurse is a thankless, painful job, and I can't put myself in his space when that's going on.
My sickness is to be susceptible to sickness in him. When he's hurting, I hurt. I hurt myself to be able to hurt with him. I try to take it into me, to take what I can of it for him. And oh, if I could, I'd detox for him. I'd be sick and crazy and mean and miserable in his place. I hate for him to hurt...
But damn it, I've learned my lessons! I've been extraordinarily stubborn, but I've learned that it hurts me more than it helps him for me to do too much. In fact, it hurts me and it hurts him. He won't do for himself what I'll do for him, and I can't do for myself when I'm doing for him. When we get swept up in that cycle, we're both stuck in his disease, sinking. I've found a way out, and I'm not sorry.
I wish the voice in my head that wants to explain myself to everyone would shut up. I want desperately to call his relative and tell her what I'm really thinking when I refuse to pay for things for him or to sit by his sickbed. My sponsor often says that it's not my business what other people think of me, though. I have to keep remembering that it's not my business what his family thinks of me. I'm doing the best I can for myself today, and that's all I can do.
Methadone.
The methadone crisis continues.
My husband has been on his last legs at work for a long time, and it seems like every day is his last day of methadone. He keeps suggesting that it's very dire, that soon he won't have methadone at all. I keep worrying, preemptively setting boundaries, seething, fretting...planning to loan him money, then planning not to. Planning to make him leave if he starts detoxing, then planning to let him stay forever.
Today, though, I've decided to stop. I quit. He will have methadone, or he won't. He'll get a job, or he won't. I'll want to be with him, or I won't. Today, I want to be with him more than I want peace. Today, that's my choice. Fretting about it, about whether or not I'm doing it right, is getting me so bogged down in my own head that I can't possibly ever have the clarity to do it right.
My focus belongs on me: my body, my mind, my spirit. I'm not facing detox. I'm not addicted to methadone. I've got a great yoga class to go to in the morning. I've got plans with a friend to do something positive. I can surround myself with positive, healthy things that feed my spirit, and I'll find my way to the right answers.
For today, I'm firing my worries.
My husband has been on his last legs at work for a long time, and it seems like every day is his last day of methadone. He keeps suggesting that it's very dire, that soon he won't have methadone at all. I keep worrying, preemptively setting boundaries, seething, fretting...planning to loan him money, then planning not to. Planning to make him leave if he starts detoxing, then planning to let him stay forever.
Today, though, I've decided to stop. I quit. He will have methadone, or he won't. He'll get a job, or he won't. I'll want to be with him, or I won't. Today, I want to be with him more than I want peace. Today, that's my choice. Fretting about it, about whether or not I'm doing it right, is getting me so bogged down in my own head that I can't possibly ever have the clarity to do it right.
My focus belongs on me: my body, my mind, my spirit. I'm not facing detox. I'm not addicted to methadone. I've got a great yoga class to go to in the morning. I've got plans with a friend to do something positive. I can surround myself with positive, healthy things that feed my spirit, and I'll find my way to the right answers.
For today, I'm firing my worries.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Upswing.
Rollerfuckingcoaster...
I got home from work last night, and the house was spotless. My husband had cleaned the house, cooked a wonderful dinner, and had $80 deposited into my bank account. It was like a fog had lifted off of him, the fog that had been keeping me from coming home over the last few weeks.
I'm confused about this up and down behavior, as it's not typical of him. If he's using, usually, it gets bad, and then it gets worse, and then it's a crisis, and then he's in bed detoxing for 2 weeks, and then he's really sorry, and then it gradually builds up to a better place. This new kind of rapid spiraling and upswing is different.
One thing that I thought might explain what's happening at my house is that he is gradually lowering his methadone dose. Every time he goes down a notch, he's shitty for a few days, and then he levels out. He's not gone down for a week or so, and maybe...just maybe...that's all that is going on.
Yuck. I'm not going to think about what's going on. All I know is that I'm looking forward to going home this evening to an orderly house with no allegorical turds, a loving, lovely husband (who even asked if I'd pick him up for the meeting tonight), and hope. Hope is nice, and the prospect of a nice evening is nice, and spending time with my husband while he's on an upswing is my favorite thing in the world.
I got home from work last night, and the house was spotless. My husband had cleaned the house, cooked a wonderful dinner, and had $80 deposited into my bank account. It was like a fog had lifted off of him, the fog that had been keeping me from coming home over the last few weeks.
I'm confused about this up and down behavior, as it's not typical of him. If he's using, usually, it gets bad, and then it gets worse, and then it's a crisis, and then he's in bed detoxing for 2 weeks, and then he's really sorry, and then it gradually builds up to a better place. This new kind of rapid spiraling and upswing is different.
One thing that I thought might explain what's happening at my house is that he is gradually lowering his methadone dose. Every time he goes down a notch, he's shitty for a few days, and then he levels out. He's not gone down for a week or so, and maybe...just maybe...that's all that is going on.
Yuck. I'm not going to think about what's going on. All I know is that I'm looking forward to going home this evening to an orderly house with no allegorical turds, a loving, lovely husband (who even asked if I'd pick him up for the meeting tonight), and hope. Hope is nice, and the prospect of a nice evening is nice, and spending time with my husband while he's on an upswing is my favorite thing in the world.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Detaching.
The dogs ate my husband's methadone. I'm not joking. It really happened.He just phased up, which means that he gets to take home a few doses of methadone at the time. Those of you who have been reading for some time might have noticed that my husband is rather irresponsible. He left one of his doses on a table in the living room, and one of the dogs got it. The bottle was all chewed up, and there was red and sticky methadone goo all over the floor. He likes to learn everything the hard way.
So today, he didn't have a dose. He became convinced that he was dopesick well before it was anything anywhere near physically possible for him to feel the effects of missing a dose, and it sent me to a real bad place. Immediately, I'm trying to figure out how this is a ruse. I'm thinking that he isn't ready for take home doses. I'm thinking he's too irresponsible to live with. I'm thinking that I don't think I'm ever going to be able to be around dopesick again.
I did a good thing, though, I think. I took him to a relative's house and let him lie around and whine and punch his legs and do his thing there. I called a friend and we sent shopping together and had lunch. I cleaned my car and my house. I've eaten good things, and I dyed my hair. I haven't called him, and he hasn't called me. I'm going to bed now, content with life.
Painting by Magritte
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Why Won't I Stop Caring About Britney Spears?
When she was sane and a pop star on MTV, I didn't care about her. I shouldn't care about her now that she's out of control. I can't stop staring at her. I actually clicked on the link to see a picture of her period panties. I actually clicked the link. Why? Why would I do such a thing?
Her dissent into madness means nothing. Her music never meant anything. Her relationships with her family are not important to me. I can't stop reading about them.
My difficulty in stopping watching the Britney dramedy is like my inability to get out of my marriage. I don't like the way it makes me feel. I don't like putting this shit into my head. It's spiritually degrading. It's emotionally exhausting. I don't know how to stop doing it.
My husband is downstairs in the first stages of withdrawal. He didn't have his shit together this week, and he's out of methadone money. He also missed his dose last Sunday, which seems to be making this evening a little rougher for him. I feel sad for him. I can't help him. He's got money for tomorrow, so he's only got to make it until 5 a.m. I am furious with myself for expending my mental energy thinking these things. I'm tired of thinking these things. I won't stop thinking these things, and I won't stop being in a situation where these things are required of me. I am tired of myself.
There is a little ray of hope, though. He started feeling bad, and he went to bed. He asked me to come to him, and I did, and he thanked me for being here and told me he loves me. That little moment of gratitude, that morsel of sweetness, gives me hope that there's still a good man inside him.
Her dissent into madness means nothing. Her music never meant anything. Her relationships with her family are not important to me. I can't stop reading about them.
My difficulty in stopping watching the Britney dramedy is like my inability to get out of my marriage. I don't like the way it makes me feel. I don't like putting this shit into my head. It's spiritually degrading. It's emotionally exhausting. I don't know how to stop doing it.
My husband is downstairs in the first stages of withdrawal. He didn't have his shit together this week, and he's out of methadone money. He also missed his dose last Sunday, which seems to be making this evening a little rougher for him. I feel sad for him. I can't help him. He's got money for tomorrow, so he's only got to make it until 5 a.m. I am furious with myself for expending my mental energy thinking these things. I'm tired of thinking these things. I won't stop thinking these things, and I won't stop being in a situation where these things are required of me. I am tired of myself.
There is a little ray of hope, though. He started feeling bad, and he went to bed. He asked me to come to him, and I did, and he thanked me for being here and told me he loves me. That little moment of gratitude, that morsel of sweetness, gives me hope that there's still a good man inside him.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
P.S.
Look at my new ads! If that's not a sign that I've made a turn for the better, I don't know what is! Now, instead of telling me that my readers might be interested in purchasing some heroin detox or rehab, they are telling me that you guys might be interested in Hot Wife Sex, some HD television, or Pre-Divorce Counseling!
We're on an upswing, folks! Now let me try to fix that real quick!
Heroin heroin heroin heroin
Heroin needles junky fix
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Heroin sucks. Heroin will ruin your life. Fuck heroin up the ass with a dirty needle.
I have the cure for heroin. It's very magical.
I can't wait to see if that worked!
We're on an upswing, folks! Now let me try to fix that real quick!
Heroin heroin heroin heroin
Heroin needles junky fix
Heroin heroin heroin heroin
Heroin sucks. Heroin will ruin your life. Fuck heroin up the ass with a dirty needle.
I have the cure for heroin. It's very magical.
I can't wait to see if that worked!
Monday, July 2, 2007
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