Monthly Archives: May 2012

Sent Box

Something happened a few weeks ago that I feel should be here. The thing mainly has to do with my job, but the bigger picture made me realize it had to be posted. I can’t believe I almost neglected to see it as relevant to my journey.

We are addicts, and have been programed for at least as long as we have been addicted to be submissive. We submit to the drugs foremost, but that’s not all and we know it. At it’s core with addiction, we submit our right to a complete and fulfilling life. We don’t take what we want unless it aids us in acquiring our next high-a better word would be stealing. Fuck that! I have a story now of something that I have taken-I took it in the midst of this withdrawal storm, and I want to share it.

Some weeks back a position became available (where I work) that I knew would be better for me and my family. I went to the big boss of our department, and told him I wanted it. I explained how I knew it would be better for me, and he understood; I thought he understood. I also told him that I knew my immediate supervisor would be upset, but that I hoped he (big boss) wouldn’t use that as a reason to keep me out. The big boss assured me that he didn’t think it would be a problem.

I waited, and waited, and guess what happened? Nothing.

My supervisor had a fucking meltdown, and I heard one week later that they had begun outside interviews for the position. Very upset, I went in to see the big boss again. He explained to me that he went home, thought about what I had said all weekend, and decided it would be better if I stayed where I was. This made me angrier, and I let him know how very disappointed I was in his decision. I could not understand how a man with a family could deny another man with a family, the right to better himself.

At first I did what I was programmed to do-I submitted. I went around bitching to anyone that would listen. Then it hit me-what the fuck was I doing? I decided right then that I was going to make a stand. I knew it could cost me my job, but too many years being a submissive is becoming a fire starter now. Fuck you methadone!

My father taught me something years ago that I kept in my mind: Never go over a boss’ head unless you are sure you are right. I kept his advice in mind, and opened up an email to the vice president of the college where I work. Truth is, my father wasn’t sure (after I called him) about what I was about to do, but he couldn’t have known about the shift taking place inside me.  My letter was gracious, considerate, respectful, but firm. I was qualified for it, I had put in the time to get it, I wanted it, so I took it.

Within two hours of the “send” button being pushed, I was in my new position. Can you even imagine the feeling I had when the big boss pulled me back in, and explained that it never would have happened had I not forced his hand? It was almost as good as the feeling I had when he stopped me today for a quick chat. He told me he wanted me to know how much better the campus looked since I took the new position. Before I transferred, I was shipped between three campus’, and my work was rarely noticed.

Are there haters? Of course there are. The haters are also submissives that don’t take what they want in life. They live their lives exactly the way I did on methadone. Is a person truly getting everything out of life if they don’t go after whatever it is they want? I would say no. In landscaping there is a saying we use with old trees, and it applies here I think: It’s either growing or dying.


Why Did I Love Opiates?

I did love you. I loved you with my whole heart. I put every extra minute of my time into acquiring you. I made schedules for you, and planned events around you. I drove thousands of miles, and would have driven to the end of everything for you. I stole from my family, and lied to them too. All I did, I did for you.

You were in my thoughts constantly, and I thought we would be always together. There was a time I was convinced there was no other feeling I wanted than the way you could make me un-feel. You helped me forget about my mom, and my childhood. If only you had not made me forget about my kids too.

Why, after all these years of devotion, do you make me feel so sick to leave you? Are you clenching to my muscles, my stomach, my head because you love me too? I feel your grip, but it’s not as tight as it was yesterday. I’m pulling you off, and it’s about time for me to go.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, I am slipping away from you now. Every time I take less of you, I creep out as you’re sleeping. I walk out the door, and into the sun, but I still think of you. You know I do don’t you? You made me forget my kids.

Rigs and Methadone Clinics

I’m very pissed off this morning. I guess I should say “was” very pissed off this morning. I went to the methadone clinic to get my take-outs, and as you may or may not know, it is the week I’m supposed to go from 25mgs/day to 20mgs. As it turned out, that wasn’t to be this morning. When I stepped to the window, and said I wanted to decrease to 20mgs, the nurse informed me that it wasn’t going to be possible. Immediately, my blood began to boil as he (nurse) tried explaining that there was a new doctor, and they could no longer do anything (increase or decrease) without the doctor’s written authorization. Boy did I give that nurse an ear full.

First I told him that I thought that was a bunch of bullshit! I told him that I had been decreasing every 2 weeks for months now, and someone damn well should have called me to let me know about this new change. If they had, I’d have told them to go ahead and put the order through to have it ready when I picked up this morning.  To his credit, the nurse was very apologetic, and agreed with everything I was saying. I knew it wasn’t his fault, and I did tell him that. After I left the nurse’s station, I saw the clinic director’s door was open so I used the opportunity let him know too, just how unhappy I was.

The first thing I said was that I thought it was really shitty of that clinic, that is supposedly there to help us, to “interrupt” my decreasing in that way. I explained that this was probably the most important moment in my life, and for them to have a change like that, and not inform me, really showed what they were about.

He then tried excusing the circumstances by pointing out that the clinic serves about 1600 (I thought 2000), and that it would be impossible for them to call everyone to let them know of the change. However, I blew that shit up by asking him just how many of that 1600 were decreasing. After that, he was stumped because he knew that I was correct. They absolutely should have had the decency to call me and let me know of this change, and he knew it. If I was a person teetering on the edge, this kind of thing may have been just the kind of thing to stop my decreasing; instead, it actually had the opposite effect. If anything, this experienced served more in re-galvanizing my will to get up out of there than it anything else.

There was much more that I said to the director, but know this: White hot fire was coming from my mouth, and I wasn’t on 160mgs of methadone to tie my tongue. My words came out clear, concise, and there was nothing anyone at that clinic could say that would make the situation right. It’s a good thing that the director backed down too because this comes down to me getting my life back, and nothing is getting in my way. My rig is big right now, and I’m going to run you the fuck over if you are standing in my way.

The last thing he said to me as I walked out his door was to come see him again when I was at 0mgs. I felt nothing for him as I turned around and said, “you’ll see me again”. My heart tells me this is true, but not in the way he wants to see me. The next time he sees me, I may just have his neck in a dog collar instead of the other way around. What comes around huh? Maybe not, but I do feel there is a story about these places that needs to be told; no matter how comfortable I am in accepting consequences of my own actions.

About my dose: I ended up dosing, but didn’t use water to wash the bottom of the bottle out. Hopefully that was around 5mgs, but I really can’t be sure. I also only took three take-outs so I will be going back on Tues. to get the correct dose amount. I was going to do change my pick-up day anyway because we (the family) are going to be doing some vacationing next month and pick-ups on Friday won’t be possible. What I will do until Tuesday is just use the baby syringe to withdraw 5mgs/day. Fuck ’em!


Better Than I Used To Be

Things happen sometimes in the weirdest ways. This morning on the way to work my wife said she heard a song that really sounded like me. All she remembered was that it had the words, “I’ve got a few more dances with the devil”, and that it was sung by Tim McGraw. I came in to work and punched it in to Google and the song, “Better Than I Used To Be” popped up. I kid no one when I say I had never heard this song before. Definitely another “Rocket Man” moment. It matches so closely to where I am, at this moment-I just had to post it here. Have I ever said that I love music?

Thx wifey, you’re the best! Almost made me cry.


How I’m feelin’-22.5

Want to know how I’m feeling on 22.5mgs? Sit down and I’ll tell you. It’s quite a thing.

I look people in their eyes again-when I’m speaking or walking past. When I talk, people are listening.

People are looking at me again-something is different, but they don’t know what. They’ve told me how good I look. I know. I’m exuding man again, and I can feel others feeling it. Not conceit-truth is coming off these pages.

I’m taking back my life that’s mine, and holding on with everything. I’m passionate about living again because life is a gift. And that is a gift horse I never want to look in the face again.

I’ve never been a person that digs weather talking, or idle conversation. I talk about the weather now because I work outside, and it interests me. When I speak people are listening because it’s passion.

I’m about to whip a mean mother fucker, and I won’t be held back-at anything! I’m pinning this methadone fucker to the ground, and I’m not even using two hands yet.

My green eyes are on bright, and I don’t wear sunglasses  anymore. I take’em off because I want the sun in my eyes, shit. I’ve spent too many years behind doors when my soul is open.

I might even move the bed to the back yard so I can sleep in the open air. On second thought probably not-my wife doesn’t like bugs.

I’ll just stay inside at night and finally sleep good until morning. Mornings are where it’s at because mornings are fresh and new, and fresh is pouring over me now.

Want what I got now? Come get some!