Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse! I'm sound asleep in my room, peaceful as can be, when my dad walks in and hands me the phone. I ask who it is, and he shakes his head, I don't know. I take the phone, and its a lady from the Social Security Disability office, she informs me, I'm not eligible for SSD because I have an outstanding warrant for my arrest in Wisconsin. Until that is cleared up there is nothing I can do to get SSD, even though I qualify for it.
I tell my parents who the phone call was from, and my dad is on my ass to "GET THIS ALL SORTED OUT". Now as you may or may not know there is a reason I'm in Hawaii. It is because of this warrant. If you read my blogs that are part of the book I'm writing, you know some of the history. I was caught writing out prescriptions of Hydromorphone 8 mgs 60 tablets BID, which means twice daily. I went to court for those fraud charges, and was given 1 year probation. I was on Methadone, I had just started the treatment, and I didn't know that Methadone blocked opiates from getting you high, and I still wanted to get high, so I started shooting coke. I had been in rehab during the court proceedings per my lawyers request, to show I'm getting helped. I ended up getting kick out of that rehab 6 days before I was set to graduate. I was kicked out for taking Benadryl to help me sleep. I had to be in treatment for the DA to make a deal, so I went on Methadone treatment. It worked and the deal went through, 1 year probation.
So here I am homeless for a month after I got kicked out, and just getting started on Methadone, and was still getting loaded of the Methadone dose everyday. I thought it would be like that the whole time. As long as I kept upping my dose. Then after two months, I stopped getting high off my dose, and the doctor wouldn't let me go up. So I started to level out on the methadone, and was at a blocking dose. In rehab I met a crack, and blow dealer. He relapsed around the time I stopped getting high off the Methadone. So I had a hook up for coke, and I started using it. The thing is I hate hate hate coke. I hate the way it only last 20 seconds, and after that its just chasing that next high, thats never as good as the first. I hate the way it makes my moods swing even more violently than they already do.
One day I was so sick of using coke, and I wanted to stop, and I didn't know what to do. So I called my counselor at the Methadone clinic and asked for help. She told me to call someone from NA. Everyone I knew in NA was using. The next morning I go in to get my Methadone dose, my counselor calls me in her office, and tells me she had call my PO and tell him I was using Coke. Which was grounds for revocation of my probation, and I would go to jail the remainder of my time on probation. 7 months, so that day my PO, puts me in jail. I was at 140 mgs of methadone, and was taking 50 mgs of Valium a day, plus my coke habit. All this I to stop cold turkey and withdrawal in jail. The worse place a person could be for withdrawals. Then my PO comes in and tells me instead of making me stay in jail for 7 months I could go back to rehab. The same 28 day program I was kicked out from just 5 months earlier. I was just happy to be getting out of jail.
I get to rehab, and my PO tells me I can never go back on Methadone. I had to get clean, or go to jail for seven months. I was not ready to stop using. I wanted my opiates. I needed my opiates. Its all I thought about all day. During every group I asked why I had to do a 28 day program which is proven that it only keeps 1% of people clean after they get done with inpatient treatment. Where as Methadone Treatment has 20% recovery rate the inpatient 28 even 120 day programs do. Every day I told my counselors, now that I know methadone keeps the opiate cravings at bay once you get at a stable dose, and the fact that I called for help to stop using coke because I hate it so much, and I know I will never touch that drug again, why can't I go back on methadone, and get a job, and go to school. Of course the treatment center which is based on the 12 step program was like, "thats your addiction talking", I was like, well my addiction is telling me that I can use methadone an opioid to stop these intense cravings, and my plan of suicide, and get back to a functional member of society. I argued the fact that the government is paying 6000 dollars for my 28 day stay in this rehab, when I could be paying for my own treatment at the methadone clinic, and I could have a reason to wake up in the morning. It would be better for the economy. Still no go, finally I said fuck it, and since I had been using Valium my roommate gave me, and my UA's were pos for benzo which I could blame on my use of benzo's in jail which they did give me for three days, and since I was habitual user it stays in your system for up to a month and a half, because like pot it is stored in your fat cells, unlike coke, and heroin which stays in your system for 72 hours at most. I knew I was going to end up in jail, and I had fantasied on the cop coming to get me, and before he could handcuff me, I would pull his gun out of his holster and put in my mouth and blow my brains all over that useless 28 day program.
In stead, I snuck out in the middle of the night, and have been on the run since.
Now my parents want me to move back to Wisconsin, go to jail, face the 7 months, plus whatever other charges they added to my sentence. By the time I go out I'd 28, 29. NO way in hell am I moving back to Wisconsin, a state I don't even want to go back to, and sit in jail for the help I asked for two and half years ago. Instead of moving to Seattle, and going to school, and getting a job, and living my fucking life.
I may as well flush my 20's away, and I know I did this to myself. I'm not asking my parents for a single dime, just to leave me alone, and let me move where want, which is not Wisconsin.
OH yes, and all the treatment I am getting here in Hawaii for my Bi Polar, I would have to give up if I moved back to Wisconsin, because they don't have any kind of medical for me, so I go to Wisconsin, no medication for my bi polar, no methadone( because my parents think its time for me to get off as if they know better than the doctors) and go to jail where I will be suffering from not just my regular bi polar, but the blackest, deepest, depression of withdrawal.
I know, I have so much life left to live, and things will get better, and I got myself into this, and I fucked up my own life, and now since my parents feel guilty I live with them no matter how much I don't want to, and let my parents remind me daily of how much I hurt them by using drugs, and how it should be easy to get off drugs, after everything its done to you. You have no will power. Your fat, and your gonna get fatter, because we are going to guilt you into living with us for the rest of our lives.
Every day my dad asks, "when I'm 70 and can't move, and need help wiping my ass your going to be there and do that for me right?" What am I suppose to say? No dad, I'm going to leave to rot in your own shit because I choose to use drugs.
They are right everything is my fault, and I will take all the blame. I'm sentencing myself to death.
There is no other way I can make my father happy. My mom on the other hand she gets it. She doesn't let my addiction rule her life, like my dad does. She knows their is nothing she can do for me, I have to do it for myself. Yet with her, she doesn't have the ability to say no to my dad. What he says goes, and even if they have to take me with them back to Wisconsin kicking and screaming, as soon as I get to the guns, I'm turning it on myself.
I see no other way out. Angie left me with a crazy father, who is now even more crazy and overprotective than he was before she died. This is my punishment for being the black sheep of my family. For not following society's rules.
I don't want to belong to society that keeps knocking me down, to a family that is insistent that live the life they want me to live.
No, no, no, no, no.
I love my parents, I know they did everything in their power to make my life better, and I know that my dad thinks he is doing the right thing by keeping me in a mental cage, and next a physical cage, and then again a mental cage taking care of my elderly parents, because they took care of me my entire life.
The cycle never ends. I'm sure from the outside looking in, your all like just leave, get over it, be who you are, and don't let guilt rule your life, I suggest you step into my shoes and then tell how simple it is, how easy it should be for me to say fuck it.
I just wish I could get high before I have to die.
I hate this life, ever since Angie died I've been in a living hell. Not physically but mentally. If I kill myself, or die, and go to hell it will be this life right now over and over. This feeling, this emotion, over and over, like ground hogs day, which is my birthday.
Sorry so negative. I know I'm bringing this on myself, and I know I should just face the consequences of my actions. After that, I should be a good girl, but really I just want to get high really high.