Monthly Archives: June 2012

I’m proud

I think I’m waking up after a long nightmare. There’s been a tropical storm overhead for almost a week now. The sky has been looking just like I have been feeling- dreary. Well, the sun burned through the clouds today. It’s fitting because my life is burning through the muck as well.

There was much life outside today, and I’m part of it again. It’s been so long. I’m not chained to a damn thing anymore. Yeah, I got two middle fingers in the air facing north to the clinic- always will. But what I am most now, is proud.

I’m proud I’m alive. I’m proud I’m an American.  I’m proud I have my wife and kids. I’m proud I feel love when I say it. I’m proud I endured every second of detox because it is so damn worth it. Methadone may be needed for some, but it ain’t got a thing on the emotion in my heart now. Told you I’d be home soon Mamma- I’m really home!

Need for Clarity

Several people, after my “ismelltherain” post on Thursday weren’t clear on what I did so I wanted to clarify. I am going to go day by day and explain exactly how I did, what I did. When I wrote the post on Thursday I was exhausted from 2 days w/out methadone so that probably added to the confusion.

Wednesday morning I woke up with the feeling my body was telling me it was time to quit methadone altogether. I had one bottle left from my weekly doses so I refrained from taking it. I was very nervous, but felt it was the right decision.

I went to work and pushed myself physically all day. I made up eight bottles of Zephyr Hills water with a (restaurant) packet of salt mixed in each. I set out weed eating all day. My boss knew what I was doing so he let me work however I wanted. My day went: drink, work, drink, sweat, drink, pee, drink, work, drink, sweat, drink, pee…

Wednesday evening I was exhausted. Although I took it very easy, I only slept 2 hours that night. I woke for good at 2:30am and watched tv until 6:00am. I had been telling myself that I was going to call in to work all night. However, when time came, my body again said “get up and get to work”.

I rode a bicycle to work. I again made waters, but instead of weed eating, I pressure washed most of the day. By 3:30pm I was waxed and my boss told me to go home. I obliged and rode the bike home. I can now say I never missed a day of work due to methadone detox.

When I got home I was extremely exhausted. I was also exhilarated because I knew I felt better Thursday afternoon then I did that morning. I sat down and wrote “ismelltherain”. Once I was done, I went to bed and didn’t sleep a bit all night. I now know what restless leg syndrome feels like.

Friday we went to Jeckyl Island for the weekend. I did take my remaining methadone bottle with us, but never had to use it. I was able to get 6 hrs sleep both Friday and Saturday night. As a result, I am feeling much better today, but not yet normal.

I will finish out my detox blog later.


I’ve thought many times about this post. At one time I thought I wouldn’t post now, and just wait, but waiting isn’t in my vocabulary at the moment. I quit methadone at 12.5mgs on Wed. It has now been 2.5 days since I’ve had any medicine whatsoever. I have very little energy, but the thing that is driving me now, is the same thing I cursed earlier in this blog.

When I started writing this blog, I thought I had everything figured out. I was on the right path, but a few people were placed with me and each knows who they are. They are the ones I have communicated with through this detox. I call them my friends and each gave me a piece of what I needed to get here. Thank you!

The piece of advice I was given that meant the most was “listen to your body”. Mine told me methadone was killing me. If methadone tells you, it’s the better option- only you know you. However, if you find like I did, I left you a road map to a way out. Just look here and you will know that you are not alone.

Addiction gene or not, God gave each and every one of us the ability to walk away from addiction. I do not believe we were meant to say we were powerless, because that is not the truth. The truth is we are damn powerful when we realize it. Nobody will ever tell me different. This post I want to be for Ivy- my friend.

To Ivy: You just be you girl, and don’t apologize to any sum bitch for you. You’re beautiful, and all I’ve seen is your heart.

Aashton Hodge


Florida law

I started pulling 2.5mgs from my dose bottle yesterday. I’m now at 12.5mgs/day, and feeling terrible again, but I think I realize something. Once I go down, I feel like total shit for the next few days. Not so much the physical, although it is bad. I’m referring more to the mental aspect, and I think this blog proves what happens.

After decreasing, I go into a terrible depression. I cry, I bitch, I hurt- literally- all that, every time. After a few days I start feeling better. I’m so happy because I remember I’m smelling again. It’s like a manic depression type of thing. I honestly question my sanity sometimes. Then I think back over the cycle and get really pissed off.

I’m pissed because I should not have to question my sanity. I have had no counseling, extra or otherwise, to prepare me for these crazy emotions and everything in between. In fact, during this detox, I spent the longest time in 5 years without a counselor when I requested a “change of counselor” because mine blatantly lied to me on several occasions.

I’m also pissed because I think the clinic decided the lesser of two evils was to interrupt my detox at a very critical time. I had been decreasing every two weeks for quite some time (9months maybe) when I went in set to decrease one week. They prevented from doing so. It was the clinic’s attempt to get in order because doses are not supposed to be adjusted (increase or decrease), per Florida state law, without prior signature of a physician.

Would that have bothered me in the end? Nope. The physician not signing my script beforehand would have never mattered to me. I actually admired my being able to go in every 2 weeks and request a decrease and the nurses grant it. Alas, all good things must end, and Florida laws eventually followed, but to what end? The interruption of a detox schedule I had to create and implement myself without the guidance of my Physician.

That pesky detox schedule that was consequently supposed to, by Florida law, have been prepared with me by my Physician and Counselor. It’s done this way to give me (the patient) maximum control over my detox process. It can be adjusted of course, but again, that would have to be in meeting with the Physician; the Physician whom it happens I HAVE NEVER MET!

All this and more when all I needed was a Physician’s assistance and Counselor’s reassurance (counseling). I wouldn’t have needed the assistance as much as that reassurance- I would have taken that. Oh yes I would have, and I would have had many questions. I would have listened too, and that’s what sucks about it. I wrote a post yesterday about truth, and I think it would have helped in my detox.

What is the truth? Methadone is a monster to withdrawal from, but it has been done. I can do it. Throughout withdrawal from methadone, there are times of extreme pain as well as extreme happiness. These extremes can make one question sanity. It will pass. Don’t focus on either because life lies in the middle.

Is that so fucking hard?

I think it worth quickly noting- what I have written is no secret. It’s sad, but my family and others around me know it. I’m hoping I don’t get into some crazy car accident and they have to pursue this.


My Dad tried teaching me years ago about the importance of truth, but I failed to see it. It’s not a big surprise because I wasn’t ever looking for it. If I had been, I would have realized, the simple truth in many situations is all I needed to right a thing.

My Grandmother is one of my ultimate heroes. I think back now over the many lies I told her throughout my addiction to opiates. It’s hard to accept it, but if I’d just been honest, I would have saved her a lot of pain. She always knew something wasn’t right when I would go to her for money, but I continued to lie.

What if I’d just come out and said “I’m hooked on drugs, and I needed to have it to keep from being sick”? It would have been the truth, and I could have proven it quickly if I’d hung around for about 6 hours. Still I lied; I lied to everyone about everything when I needed a fix. I left a path of destruction inside my loved ones, and it was one of the worst of all things I did while using drugs.

I wholeheartedly believe my Grandma would have still given me money, but she would have known exactly what it was for. Instead she had to wonder, and eventually come to realize I had lied. That must have been very hard for her. Not only did she know I had lied, but she had to wonder why I would cheat her. I know for a fact, she beat herself up over and over about it.

This is one of the big reasons I think it’s ridiculous to say  we should go around apologizing to those we have lied to and hurt. They have heard our words and frankly, they are sick of them. My grandma is sick of them. All she wants now is to see results. Results of not using will be the only thing that will make her a believer anyway. So far, I know she’s happy with what she sees.

Need anyone’s help

This is a very important post. I have been detoxing for nearly a year and have yet to actually speak face to face with someone that has detoxed from methadone. This cannot be good news. If this isn’t evidence that something is very wrong I do not know what is.

There is also something very wrong with a (methadone) clinic that rapes a person of their riches and many times eventually their life; all this while offering no program for escape. Please do not tell me of the few clinics that do because I believe they are just that- few. I have a problem with even those few too, because of the nature of the drug they push.

For many hooked on opiates including me, the clinic is a welcome respite from the street drug dealers we are used to interacting with. The clinical settings and all the perfectly crafted words combined with our desire to keep using lulls us into a feeling of security. That would be fine if the drug didn’t quietly take every other piece of you that the drug dealers left behind.

Silently at first, this drug weaves its way into every part of your being. It entangles then squeezes out everything down to the calcium in your bone marrow. I know because there is a permanent layer of calcium coating my toilet bowl. I have pictures, and I am not alone. Most just don’t realize or don’t want to realize what it is. If you survive, there will be a time you will realize what methadone did to you.

If you are on methadone, there will come a day when you will feel it woven around your neck. You will struggle because it will be uncomfortable, and sadly many will be choked to death. If you are one that begins the process of un-weaving, it will be a very slow and painful process. It is done one string at a time and every one is painful when pulled. It still can be done, and then you will think of want to do next.

I have come to believe life can be viewed hypothetically as a big scale. Rights and wrongs are on either side, and I believe we cannot be right until the rights outweigh the wrongs. Many of us dealt drugs to support our habit amongst other things, and some things worse than dealing. Many of the wrongs were done to ourselves, but wrongs they still are.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I know better than anyone that I never want to sit around a room and rehash my past over and over. That’s not what I’m saying. I mean helping others with the terribly painful process of pulling methadone strings. This is an awful experience and I believe it is our responsibility to help others never go through it alone.

It’s our responsibility because we need to balance the scales. I believe the clinics know this and that is why they have flooded the internet with so much pro-methadone bullshit. I know there are those out there that have quit, but finding them is the issue.

It can be done, but the methadone clinics will be damned if they facilitate a connection between us. That is why we must do it. We have to band together and pull people from the methadone clinic lines one by one. Then they start pulling their own strings.

I believe methadone is an evil in our society that we all must band together to rid. I know because I’m living it and there is nothing natural about it down to its manufacture. It is a synthetic opiate.

Methadone is man made by the worst in humans- the Nazis. Don’t believe me, look it up. It was name Dolophine after Adolf Hitler. If that isn’t enough proof for you, get addicted and see from where this evil comes. When it is choking the life from you, you will know.

One day I hope we can all look around and see many people we have helped regain all their senses. We were given these senses for a reason, and it wasn’t for them to be snuffed. After all, I believe we all deserve to smell the rain.

Dad-one special Dad

Towards the beginning of this blog, I wrote a post named “Dad-one weird dude”. It is truly amazing to see the difference in my perception with a little truth injection. I am the type of person, as I’m sure I’ve written, that must find these truths on my own. I listen to very little and believe less; unless I come to believe it on my own.

I have believed for many years that the barrier between my father and I was the result of the strange punishments he dealt to me when I was younger. I know that now to be completely false. My Dad is a great man that tried hard for many years to raise me in some terrible situations. He fed me in small portions at times to make sure I had dinner to eat the next day, but that’s not all.

My Mom had some serious issues and was in general a very sneaky person in my early childhood. My Dad couldn’t have known about all the sneaky things she was doing because she made sure I never spoke of them. Some of the things were so bad that I am positive I was directed not to tell. How could I have grown up with confidence in my Dad if I couldn’t speak to him about my terrors?

I know for certain those barriers were placed there for my Mom to hide who she was. The unfortunate result is that my Dad and I have rarely had any conversations based in truth. If I have learned one thing throughout this whole process, it is the fact that I am now sure my Dad loved me. Sad that we never had a chance back then because he gave up so very much to give me his last name. Thank you Dad- for everything.

In that first post, I wrote that Dad taught me the most about life. I still believe that, but I would like to go even further. I owe finding the strength to quit this methadone nonsense to him because he taught me to notice the beauty of this world we live in. Not many see it the way he does and I am so thankful he taught me. It’s just sad there were barriers there to prevent me from seeing earlier.

My Grad

I’ve written most of this blog about my three young kids as if they were the only ones. It’s because I have been ashamed of the father I’ve been to my oldest. That is very difficult for me to admit. My oldest, Dev was born when I was really young, and me and her Mom (ex g/f) always been best friends. It’s not surprising that Dev has never known for sure- that she is a treasure I most treasure.

She is a perfect combination of her Mom and me. I think she got the best parts of both because she was given the smarts and beauty of her Mom, but she got my heart. My heart is something I’m happy with. She hasn’t yet learned how to express hers, but she’s still young. When she finds the voice to go with her gorgeous and everything, she will beast the world.

I recently took her to dinner for “the talk”. I have railed on her for years about the dangers of drugs, but always as if I was an outsider. My wife advised me many times to “just be honest with her”, but there was no way. Call it what you will, but I wasn’t looking in her eyes like that. Until now it would surely have been a talk AA would have praised. It would have gone something like this:

“Dev, I am an addict with a disease. I want you to know that drugs control me. I have been a terrible father because of it.  I am so sorry for everything, and hopefully one day I can find a way to stop. Hopefully one day I will be able turn all my problems over, and be given the power to face them. If I do, I promise to call once a week to remind you of the shithead I’ve been; right after my meeting.”

That is not a talk I was interested in having. I would have died drugging first. Would that have been better? I don’t know for sure. She would have never had answers to her questions, but her Mom did a wonderful job with her in my absence. I think Dev would have ovecome, but she didn’t have to. I gave her the talk I have always wanted to give her.

No, I wasn’t the best father in the world. I did take steps to shield her from what I was doing, but that wasn’t enough. I know she questioned whether or not I ever cared. That question is now answered. She knows I care. There was a hole in her heart that is now filled so she doesn’t have to waste her life looking for artificial things to fill it.

Our blood has a chink in its armor with regards to addiction, but Dev knows that the blood also contains the antidote. Anyone can look at stories and stats of the many that have attempted to pull these methadone hooks from their person. Very few have done it, and even fewer in the way that I am doing it. Its called fire in the blood, and a person is born with it or they weren’t. Devan was.

To Dev:

I’m almost done and I’m coming out of this hole to show you there is nothing on earth more powerful than us. Just the two of us. There is nothing you don’t posses the power to do. Be ever conscious that you have the power, and never be afraid to use it. I want you to always be thankful for it because I believe it is a gift not of this world.

You know I would have never spoken to you if it meant telling you I couldn’t do this. If I can do this, you can go to college and be whatever you dream. You live in the greatest country on earth. It is the perfect atmosphere to foster and birth dreams. Now do it! If you ever doubt yourself, come find me. I will take your hands, turn them palm down and show you the fire in your veins.

I love you so, my beautiful honor graduate!


I am officially at 15mgs/day and I’m not feeling swell.

My guts feel like they’re turned inside out and I wish I could flush them down the toilet.

I’ve done so much writing today my head feels like it might explode in 5 minutes.

I’m busy doubting everything I know I have to do, and it sucks bad.

Anybody that shows me compassion I appreciate, but I can’t tell you that now.

I wish I had never taken a pill in my life, but I wanted to stop today from being so fucking yesterday.

Methadone has the absolute worst hooks of all pain killers.

When I dig hooks it hurts until I understand why it hurts.

I’m going to get up tomorrow and start writing this thing of mine right.