I felt bad to put fingertip to keyboard even in typing out "number seven" but as my cat felt this was going to be some unusual form of therapy for her and her dalliances with drugs, it only make sense to continue to blog even when there's no actual partying going on for her right now.
It's been a week now since my cat last held the pookie. She can't quite believe how easy it's been given the last few times where she's been made to separate herself from ICE for a week or even more. Previously, the thoughts and dreams of using had been incessant, Tina's pull had some super strength and the overwhelming feeling of failure as a "feline" had often been the icing on the cake for her mild, "self diagnosed" bouts of depression.
My cat picked up a prescription after the weekend of partying was over, for diazapam (valium) to help with "headaches" but planned on using it for comedowns and of course, the occasional nasty headache she'd endure from time to time. She popped one on the first night as she had some nasty cramps and it knocked her out, even though it was only a 2mg dose - may have been helped by the mild exhaustion she felt from the previous 3 day bender.
My cat hasn't been dosing up on the valium, but she has been using "legal weed" and legitimate weed pretty well every night. Prior to meth use, she loved doing this anyway as the feeling of relaxation was something she always appreciated from smoking a spliff. That and getting the munchies - needless to say, the cat loves feeding time and has definitely been partial to a chocolate or bag of chips in the past.
Maybe its my cat's mindframe this time around. Maybe it's a whole lot of contributing factors. Maybe it's just that she's beginning to tire of the whole rollercoaster that is "ice use". Maybe she's just lucky.
My cat can honestly say that right now, it doesn't matter when she'll get to use again. She doesn't feel the need for that "set date" or thirst to know when they'll be cracking out the pipe again. My cat doesn't even know where the pipe is! Now previously, she would take a few peeks around the home, trying to "accidentally" uncover the whereabouts of said pipe, just so she could feel like she had some control. That need is presently lying dormant somewhere inside her. No joke. It feels great for my cat. But she's not sure why this is.
My cat loves the feeling of GHB/GBL, and presently, there is some in the fridge, probably enough for 1.5mls each - tomcat and my cat could both indulge if they wanted to. There is also 2 x ecstacy pills laying in a box with all the weed paraphenalia that have yet to be swallowed. Again, this would usually be eating my cat up inside, wondering when they would take them, trying to dream up an excuse to party, fuck, any excuse would do! But right now, there is no want. No need. No thirst. WTF?
My cat is presently planning on quitting smoking cigarettes on September 1st, when she will also start up her fitness regime - something she used to be incredibly proud of. Cat was pretty well an athlete. She could do things most people would never dream of doing, and she was at it like a freight train, hurtling along the tracks at great speed with no sign of stopping. That is, until ICE made an appearance. My cat could also blame some minor injuries that her training partner endured, thus, limiting the time she could actually train with someone (important shit when you're doing the type of training she was doing - you can't always rely on your own motivation, you often need the help, support and encouragement of someone else. Someone reliable, someone pretty fit) BUT that would be looking for excuses, if we wanna be real here... and my cat wants to be real.
My cat wants to be back at that place of personal satisfaction. Where how she felt and how she looked (great and thin, for those of you who can't read minds) weren't the result of spending money on something highly illegal and poisonous. My cat IS capable of feeling invincible and looking good in skinny jeans all on her own steam. Hahahaha, funny analogy. Steam. Kinda like vapour. She doesn't want the vapour to be the reason her jeans are hanging loose around her waist. She wants the determination and motivation of her own striving for self worth to be the reason she feels amazing.
This is not to say that my cat wants to hang up the boots on meth use. See, she remembers when she WAS exercising... like a madwoman. She looked as good as she had ever looked and then she went on maybe her second bender with ICE. Three days with incredibly little food on an already lean and mean frame does wonders for your abdominals definition, and of course, a girls self confidence. But then, the motivation to get out and get moving just died. The ICE took over. Methamphetamine became the thing she worked for. If she could find a balance where she worked her arse off, had a bender on OCCASION and saw, every now and then throughout the year, how good she could look and feel by making exercise and LIVING LIFE her main priority, and putting the ICE second, she could literally have the best of both worlds.
The way my cat has been living (or wanting to live) has been unsustainable. No good for her health, her life, her love life, her social circle, her commitments, her family... there are no winners when my cat wants to use ICE ALL THE TIME. I think she realises this now. There is a better approach and considering she already feels like this type of approach has sunken deep into her skin, she may as well continue.
There is no doubt that at some stage, she will drink the GHB, take the X, smoke a spliff and have fun with tomcat, but for now, my cat is happy just living. She plans on making life better again, taking ICE at some stage again, with caution and on occasion, not every second weekend, and actually enjoying (in real sense, rather than synthetically) what life has to offer.
My cat loves ICE. The sex, the rush, the thrill, the conversations, the getting into your own little world, the music etc etc etc. It's all good, but... it's not everything. Life and love are however, everything to my cat. She is currently doing well, eyes on the prize, ready to party when the occasion next rolls around, but for once, not counting down the days, hours and minutes. What a fucking relief it is I guess Tina and my cat aren't besties after all.
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My cat and her meth journey #7