I woke up to my cellphone alarm, the sun just coming up over the horizon. I had forgotten it is Wednesday, and at 7:30am I have a appointment with my councilor at the Methadone clinic. I have no time to change from my sweatpants, and t-shirt or put any makeup on. I just have to pull my hair back and run out the door. I grab my cigarettes, and down the elevator to the garage where I get into the Jeep. I light a cigarette, and open the garage door. The sun is in my eyes, so I pull down the visor. I take a left, go through a million lights. I make it there at exactly 7:30am. I run to my councilor's office. Since I'm leaving the Methadone clinic she doesn't do anything in depth with me anymore. She just shoots the shit, then reads out of a self esteem book for my benefit. She says my self esteem is very low. Which of course we all know it is. This book isn't really changing that. I'm still not at the body weight I want to be at, but I'm taking the steps I need to, to make sure that changes.
I feel ill, I need my Methadone dose, and sitting in that room listening to my counselor read out of that book, all I can think is give me my juice. I don't care how low I'm of a dose I'm at, anything is better than nothing. Then my councilor asks if the doctor who will be prescribing me the Suboxone got his licence pulled. As far as I know he didn't. Now I'm worried, and now I have doubts that this Suboxone isn't going to work as well as the Methadone. This low of a dose of Methadone is obviously not a good thing for me. I already abused it and put Heroin in my veins. If Suboxone is anywhere this light my sneaky addict side will kick in and have me strung out in no time. Perhaps Elizabeth is right, I should check myself into a duel diagnosis clinic and get my life straightened out. Its not like I have to worry about loosing my job if I go anywhere for an extended period of time. They might even get me to move out of my parents house.
I always sink into a depression when I get off a junk run. I see an empty cigar box with just a bunch or unused rigs, cottons, alcohol wipes, tourniquet, but no Heroin. Its like there is a big hole in me. I'm missing part of my heart. I'm so sad its gone. I shouldn't be, but I am. Its my husband and my life. I feel like Jesus' daughter when I run a spike into my vein.