2017 and percocet relapse

I was lying in bed last night, wishing I had a journal to write in. I have had journals, but I have stopped writing in them because my husband reads them. He reads them even though I have told him, “Hey, this is my journal, it is going to live here on my night table, please don’t read it.” I find this to be a huge invasion of my privacy, among many other things that I am not going to get into today, so I stopped journaling. I moved my current one to the car, which is not a convenient place to find time and put down thoughts. I would suspect writing in a journal while driving is up there in the don’t column along with texting while driving.

Being in recovery, I have discovered that NOT writing down my thoughts has not helped me process the thoughts, or get the thoughts out of my head and put them somewhere else so they no longer make such a racket. The noise keeps me up at night.

I remembered, in my early sobriety I used to blog. I never really enjoyed blogging, I always felt my writing wasn’t good enough, or I wasn’t being insightful, or I wasn’t posting frequently enough, so I shut my blog down. That was about 2 1/2 years ago. I was blogging for the wrong reasons. This blog will now be my journal, somewhere for those pesky, keep me awake at night thoughts to live. Somewhere that the husband won’t find them.

A lot has happened in 2 1/2 years. Of course it has, it has been 2 1/2 years. I am still sober, from alcohol. I have 1,179 days. I have been in AA, then quit AA, and now my road has brought me back to AA. (more on that another day)

I never disclosed in my prior blogs that I also am an opiate addict. I had a botched rotator cuff surgery, and my doctor’s answer to my complaints about getting worse instead of better, was a continuous supply of Vicodin prescriptions. I had the shoulder repaired again, and got more opiates. As time has gone on, there have been various injuries that have required prescriptions for opiates. I have never refused or disclosed my predilection for addiction.

I found that alcohol and opiates were the perfect combination to keep me numb. As long as I had my wine and a pill or two, I was happily high, and nothing bothered me. I could drink and drug and never have to bother with any of the myriad of bothersome, hurtful issues that life consists of.

I had a year of opiate sobriety until two days ago. I found my husbands percocets that he had gotten when he had kidney stones last year. I had previously requested that they be hidden, which they were, (which in itself is pathetic to me, but that is another post) but we are away, and they aren’t hidden well, so I found them.

Then life happened, which it has a habit of doing, so I took 2 percocets. Never one, always 2, 1/2 at a time, spread out over the evening. Naturally, the self loathing was there immediately the following morning.The sick feeling,and the abject sadness at having relapsed after having a year of sobriety with pills.

As I am sitting here, life is coming in fast and furious once again. Things are ramping up to a place where I have no control. Control is my thing, as I believe it is for every addict. I still know where the perocects are, so I am telling you. I am telling anyone who is reading this that I am thinking about taking a percocet to make these feelings go away.

I am also thinking about how shitty I will feel if I do that, so for this moment, I am not going to do it. I am going to finish this post, then go do fold some laundry, and get through the next moment, then the next, until this feeling passes.

And then when my husband gets home, I am going to tell him I found them, and to please hide them again. That is what I am going to do.

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Step 6: Removing Defects of Character

I am still trying to work my way through the steps of AA. They have sort of taken a back burner to some of the other things that are happening in my life right now.

I know I have many, but some I can not give up. Such as changing my sheets every Saturday.

I am currently working on control and patience. Two of my major defects.

I like everything my way, control.

I want everything to move at my pace, impatience.

That being said, this has been sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor for 7 days. (I unpack the minute we walk in the door, just to be clear about whose this is…NOT MINE.)

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I have not unpacked it…control.

I have not said anything about it…patience.

I have had my passive-aggressive moments. Such as putting fresh laundry back in there instead of in the dresser or closet.

How many days before it is officially called a dresser?

I don’t know what to do….

 

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My husband has been away since April 18th.  He went to see his 98 year old father, check on his health and attempt to get him to understand that it is no longer safe for him to drive.  For some reason, the state of NY allowed him to renew his drivers license for an absurd amount of time, and it doesn’t expire until 2017, at which time he will be 102 years old.  If he is still alive, and moving around, he will still think he belongs behind the wheel of a car.  Stubborn, selfish man.

My husband and I have been in a really rough patch of late.  He retired, my college age son moved back in with us after graduation, is under employed, and I quit drinking.  Life has been stressful, to say the least.

I feel the majority of the stress comes from my husband.

Prior to retirement, he was depressed that he felt he still HAD to work.  He is a cardiologist, and his job was very stressful.  Since retirement, he has been depressed because he feels as if he has no value any more.  He is upset, stressed and depressed that my son is living with us while searching for a job.  He is depressed because he feels that he suddenly got OLD.  He is stressed over the situation with his father, and trying to manage it while living 1700 miles away.

His biggest stress and depression comes from money.  Not having enough money, setting up living trusts, changing his will to take people out, put people in, and the constant monitoring of the stock market.  A lot of his daily mood is tied to the NASDAQ.   He lives his life in the past, I shoulda, I coulda, if only I woulda.  Ebeneezer Scrooge does not hold a candle to this man.

He allows the situation with my son living here to ruin any given day, for no apparent reason.  My son realizes how my husband feels and makes every effort to stay out of his way.  The situation is temporary, but we have no end in sight.  I am not happy about it either, but he is my child, and I love him.

I am walking on egg shells constantly.  I am trying to keep peace, meanwhile feeling like I am always sitting in the calm before the storm, or the warm spot in the lake.

In short, my husband is sucking the life out of me with his moods, and the fact that he will not admit to and deal with his depression.  I can not talk to him as he is in denial, and we just go around in circles.  I am at his mercy as he controls the purse strings, and I do not have an income.  (Plus, despite all of the above, I do love him.)

I am working hard at being sober and staying sober.  I am attending meetings, and I have a sponsor.  I am trying to find peace within myself, searching for a higher power and working toward serenity.  I  have done a lot of work on all of this while he has been gone, as it has been easier.  My moods are not on a constant roller coaster depending on what comes out of my husbands mouth, or how miserable he looks when he gets out of bed in the morning.  I am trying to find the wisdom to realize I can not change this.  I feel like I need more time.

My husband comes home tomorrow.

I wish I could say that I am looking forward to this, but I can’t, and I am  not.

I don’t feel that I have had enough time to set a good foundation for realizing I can’t change this situation.  I am a fixer by nature.  I am a middle child, I am a Libra, I have always worked so hard at maintaining balance.  I have done it all my life, it is hard to let go of trying to control things, even though I really have no control.

Intellectually, I have accepted that I can not change him, or our current situation with my son.

Emotionally, I have no idea how to hold onto the wisdom of that and not keep trying to fix everything.

I feel I need more time, more tools, and more practice.

I have 24 more hours.

I don’t know what to do.

 

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