Do I even like meth? I don't feel high, I don't feel a rush, I might feel more awake and I'll probably write a lot in this entry, but otherwise it's not fun for me in the way drugs usually are. Also, I may have fucked myself over regarding the opioid contract I just signed, as this is lasting longer than I expected (thanks, Prozac, for that CYP2D6 inhibition.) My urine sample showed up positive for amphetamines, I told my doctor it was pseudoephedrine, and I don't know if she believes me or if they were able to get a confirmation of that result. All the office will tell me is "someone will call you to discuss this."
She might very well stop giving me hydrocodone, which would mean my periods will be unbearable at times. I already had to go through one without any opioids, though I was able to stay stoned most of the time since it started on a weekend. The meth is likely to be the cause of the suddenly shortened time between periods that I attributed to decreasing the dose of another medication. And I do NOT want more frequent periods. My gyno might want me to give a second urine sample, if she's feeling generous, and I just ruined my chances of giving an amphetamine-free one for at least a week. I can argue that I can't take time off work to come in, because they're, of course, only open when I'm at work. But that's only going to go so far.
My dad's coming to visit in less than a month. I can only imagine what he'd say if he knew how I've been spending my weekends for the past...2 months now? I think it's only been that long. Pretty sad.
My binge eating has gotten worse. Roommate bought 3 large cartons of ice cream on Friday, less than 48 hours later it's almost gone. She binge eats, too, but this does not make me any less embarrassed by my behavior. Just like with the meth, I want to stop but I don't want to stop.
My weight has been all over the place, down to 209, then up to a horrifying 221, now I'm 211. Every weekday I see charts and work orders with patients' weight, and I can't stop comparing myself. Thoughts like "I wish I were 160 lbs again," and "At least I'm not 273 like her."
When I buy this shit, I'm committing a serious crime with serious consequences. When I take advantage of "sales," I run the risk of being caught with enough to suggest I'm selling it.
Oh, and my partner is convinced he has some kind of parasitic infection. There's that. I have to hide the stash because he has no self-control either, and would stay up for a week straight without even noticing until something horrible happened. Last night he said he had mild chest pain. I listened to his heart, and the best I could tell him was that his pulse was regular. I don't know what murmurs, rubs, or gallops sound like. I've heard audio files of them, but virtually all heartbeats sound alike to me. Not that I have a cardiology-quality scope to begin with. As for my heart...God only knows what I'm doing to it. Statistically, I am most likely to die from heart disease. If that were to happen any time in the next several years, my family and friends would be devastated.
My penny-pinching, waste-not-want-not upbringing is not going to let me just flush a few hundred dollars down the toilet, even if it has the potential to destroy my life.
I'm not using much, but it's still a problem.
If my psychiatrist finds out, I can kiss any controlled substances goodbye. I could live without the modafinil, but I am absolutely not ready to give up the lorazepam, even though I'm getting better at stopping panic attacks before they happen.
The 1st step of changing behavior is recognizing that behavior needs to change. So that's why I started this journal. I don't want to have to say I'm a meth addict. I just want to be happy, I just want to feel like I have the energy to work a full time job and keep a clean-ish house.
Last time I saw my psychiatrist, she asked me, tactfully, if I could be happy while in a relationship with my partner. I'm not 100% sure. I had to remind him, after his last trip to the ER, that I'm not a nurse. I'm not sure he understands that I'll never be a caregiver on that level. I have my own problems.
I kind of assumed that if one doesn't experience euphoria with a drug, that drug isn't really going to be addictive. That surely, I wouldn't feel compelled to use something I didn't enjoy. What did I think "highly addictive" meant? Did I think it wouldn't apply to me? Why did I put up with an intense burning in my nose this morning, followed by a gross tasting drip? I didn't have to go through that, but on some level, I just knew I would.