The time has come, my little friends, to talk of other things...
Like Alice down the rabbit hole, I have come to discover myself mired deep in an addiction the likes of which I have never experienced before.
I'm addicted to IV methamphetamine despite my lost ability to successfully hit a vein in the last three weeks (April 22nd marked my last rush) and for a while I even stopped trying to IV completely. I went from shooting six or seven times a day and collapsing at least two veins (crook of each elbow) to only using orally once or twice a day to get up in the morning and try to function. I've developed all manner of health and psychiatric problems directly associated with my meth use, and it's just ugly now. I'm living essentially hour to hour at this point, and though I hate living like this, I can't stop using. I don't even remember the high anymore it's been so long.
In response to the growing emergency of my addiction my family (who are all aware by now) have convened in a manner of speaking to offer me help or threaten me with it. My mom is planning a spectacle of an intervention where she will hold firm her threat of disowning me permanently should I not accept the county-run inpatient treatment help I absolutely refuse to go to (been there before). I have one other possibility for treatment in my aunt and uncle who are wealthy but perhaps close-fisted. There's a chance I could get into a slightly more respectable and well-run facility than the dredges of the California drug treatment programs that are our county- and state-run facilities, but that's a kindness from the heart and not something I can necessarily ask bluntly for.
I am by no means prepared to go inpatient despite my rational mind reminding me every minute that it is a necessity at this point. I've lost confidence and trust in the recovery process and in addiction counselors as I've found most of them are a joke. I've become cynical and critical of the whole thing. I think that's a reaction based in fear, but I'm not completely in the dark about rehab as I've been before. I just don't want to go, plain and simple. I don't want to live like this, and know I can't keep it up, but the thought of going inpatient fills me with dread and apprehension.
I'm not crying out for help or glamorizing my drug use as I've done in my past two blogs; I'm simply offering an update for those interested parties who might have a perspective on the situation different from my admittedly warped view, and I'm willing to at least read what others might offer from their own experience. If nothing else, I suppose this entry serves as a placeholder for where I'm at now. Any thoughts, friends?