Hi ya'll/anybody who reads this. Does anyone have a solution to the boredom of withdrawal? Nothing i usually enjoy doing appeals to me when i am withdrawing and i end up staring at the walls and ceiling and concentrating on SUFFERING; I can't even read a good book when I am like this; my eyes just slide off everything and the worst is, you have so many more hours becoz u can't sleep... My dogs can't even move me to enthusiasm. AAArgh!
A lot of people recommend watching comedies...movies that will distract you from the process.
Good luck, and don't give up...
Good luck, and don't give up...
Hi MornMore, thanx for your response. Don't want to sound negative, but the problem is my eyes are so blurry and hurt so much I can't seem to watch or concentrate on anything for long, but i am feeling slightly better today.
I don't know whether it is my imagination, but withdrawals seem to get better the more often you go through them.
Have other junkies been through as many as I have; I reckon I must have had dozens? But even though it gets "better", it still stays real baad, mainly I think because of the mental side of things: your subconscious (hell, your conscious!) keeps telling you that you want to have a hit or two (just a hit or two...) and it "talks you up" into feeling like s***. Problem is keeping your spirits high enough to tell both your conscious and your subconscious to take a hike! To remember that every day gets better and the light gets brighter and plants and people get their glow back after what is really just a very short while in a life. This is not easy, especially when you are physiologically depressed as well as addicted, but it has to be done.
Therein lies the rub: the physical agony is over fairly quickly, but then the more dangerous, subtle and insidious mind has to be suppressed as well. Not to say it never ends.
The longest I have been clean in the past about 12 years has been three years. And at the end of the three years I was not even thinking of junk any more. It really was not a factor in my life at all, and I was happy. Well, content. And then "friends", while I was a bit intoxicated at a party, talked me into doing a line of lady and before I knew it, I wasn't myself any more. One thing led to another and the Mr Delivery dealers were coming and going to the house like bees to a hive.I woke up the next morning a heroin addict again.
That was four years ago. I was no longer happy and carefree. I was very worried. Did I nip it in the bud? No. I thought, "just one more hit to make me feel stronger" and then I'll be able to do it tomorrow. Tomorrow never comes, my friend. You've got to go and grab it and bring it to you.
For some reason I feel like rambling, but you don't have to read this; nothing much of importance is likely to be said. It's just that I'm on a roll and I ain't been oin nothing like a roll for a long time.
There are two significant periods in my addiction when I have stopped doing smack. One time was when I went to prison for possession of cocaine. This was very ironic, because I do and used to do cocaine very seldom and never developed any dependence on it. My poison was Thai White. When the cops stopped me I had managed to stuff the heroin down my handbrake cavity but the coke "mix" I had that night to make speedballs with fell onto the car's floor. The coppers found it and I was history. I was sentenced to three years in jail and I had to do two years. This was on a New Year's Eve. I remember sitting, withdrawing, on the cold cement floor of a dark and dismal, filthy police cell, gazing out through the bars and watching the fireworks burst in the sky in multicoloured sparkles at midnight.
From the police cells I went to a proper prison, which was only marginally better. South African prisons, especially Johannesburg's Sun City, are hellholes only slightly better than the ones in the far East sound.
So I went through my first significant withdrawal sleeping on cold floors under thin, filthy, scratchy blankets; fending off hordes of predatory fellow prisoners and being fed the most appalling, nauseating slop. When I went to the so-called prison "doctor" for a little bit of help, a warder told me to "f*** off back to your cell; You're feeling s*** because of drugs." So no help there. I had died and gone to hell.
But in a strange kind of way it all made withdrawal better; I was so distracted by surviving that I almost never noticed it. It was just part of the broader horror. Eventually I became my usual self again, learned a lot about myself, and when I came out I felt fantastic. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. But three years later, I was bit in the butt again.
The other significant withdrawal was when I had to go to Thailand for just under two weeks on a work trip. I managed to smuggle a supply of my "medicine" in there with me (who the hell else would smuggle heroin INTO Thailand), but of course as you will no doubt know, my "week's" supply lasted a day and I was up s*** creek without a paddle.
I dreaded the onset of withdrawal while I had to work 12 to 18-hour days without sleep. I told my colleagues I was sneezing because of the different climate and I wasn't sleeping because of jetlag. One night I was so desperate I took eight sleeping tablets someone gave me. I still didn't sleep, but when i got my wake-up call i felt extremely shaky. I was also very conscious of the irony: I was in Thailand, home of my favourite poison, and I couldn't get any because I was never left alone from 6am until midnight, and then I was too wrecked to try anything. I also was very wary of the Thai law. I do not know how I got through it; Actually I do know: it was all the fascinating distractions of Thailand and all the frenetic jetting/bussing/boating and running around. I never had the time to feel sorry for myself. Thailand is a truly wonderful country filled with wonderful people. When I came back I was "clean" and again felt fantastic, but instantly my mental being said: "Give XXXX a call and have a hit to celebrate getting back whole". Oh, that sneaky mind!
I suppose the "moral" of this story is that when you are withdrawing the secret is to take yourself out of your own paradigm and right into a completely different world. This time I can't do it that way, so I just have to try to draw on my experiences and stick it out. Ultimately that is what it is all about: Just hanging in there and getting better day by day. And defying that sneaky mind.
If you are still with me, thanks for staying. I love all you junkies. Remember: What doesn't kill you will make you stronger. Hang in there!
I don't know whether it is my imagination, but withdrawals seem to get better the more often you go through them.
Have other junkies been through as many as I have; I reckon I must have had dozens? But even though it gets "better", it still stays real baad, mainly I think because of the mental side of things: your subconscious (hell, your conscious!) keeps telling you that you want to have a hit or two (just a hit or two...) and it "talks you up" into feeling like s***. Problem is keeping your spirits high enough to tell both your conscious and your subconscious to take a hike! To remember that every day gets better and the light gets brighter and plants and people get their glow back after what is really just a very short while in a life. This is not easy, especially when you are physiologically depressed as well as addicted, but it has to be done.
Therein lies the rub: the physical agony is over fairly quickly, but then the more dangerous, subtle and insidious mind has to be suppressed as well. Not to say it never ends.
The longest I have been clean in the past about 12 years has been three years. And at the end of the three years I was not even thinking of junk any more. It really was not a factor in my life at all, and I was happy. Well, content. And then "friends", while I was a bit intoxicated at a party, talked me into doing a line of lady and before I knew it, I wasn't myself any more. One thing led to another and the Mr Delivery dealers were coming and going to the house like bees to a hive.I woke up the next morning a heroin addict again.
That was four years ago. I was no longer happy and carefree. I was very worried. Did I nip it in the bud? No. I thought, "just one more hit to make me feel stronger" and then I'll be able to do it tomorrow. Tomorrow never comes, my friend. You've got to go and grab it and bring it to you.
For some reason I feel like rambling, but you don't have to read this; nothing much of importance is likely to be said. It's just that I'm on a roll and I ain't been oin nothing like a roll for a long time.
There are two significant periods in my addiction when I have stopped doing smack. One time was when I went to prison for possession of cocaine. This was very ironic, because I do and used to do cocaine very seldom and never developed any dependence on it. My poison was Thai White. When the cops stopped me I had managed to stuff the heroin down my handbrake cavity but the coke "mix" I had that night to make speedballs with fell onto the car's floor. The coppers found it and I was history. I was sentenced to three years in jail and I had to do two years. This was on a New Year's Eve. I remember sitting, withdrawing, on the cold cement floor of a dark and dismal, filthy police cell, gazing out through the bars and watching the fireworks burst in the sky in multicoloured sparkles at midnight.
From the police cells I went to a proper prison, which was only marginally better. South African prisons, especially Johannesburg's Sun City, are hellholes only slightly better than the ones in the far East sound.
So I went through my first significant withdrawal sleeping on cold floors under thin, filthy, scratchy blankets; fending off hordes of predatory fellow prisoners and being fed the most appalling, nauseating slop. When I went to the so-called prison "doctor" for a little bit of help, a warder told me to "f*** off back to your cell; You're feeling s*** because of drugs." So no help there. I had died and gone to hell.
But in a strange kind of way it all made withdrawal better; I was so distracted by surviving that I almost never noticed it. It was just part of the broader horror. Eventually I became my usual self again, learned a lot about myself, and when I came out I felt fantastic. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. But three years later, I was bit in the butt again.
The other significant withdrawal was when I had to go to Thailand for just under two weeks on a work trip. I managed to smuggle a supply of my "medicine" in there with me (who the hell else would smuggle heroin INTO Thailand), but of course as you will no doubt know, my "week's" supply lasted a day and I was up s*** creek without a paddle.
I dreaded the onset of withdrawal while I had to work 12 to 18-hour days without sleep. I told my colleagues I was sneezing because of the different climate and I wasn't sleeping because of jetlag. One night I was so desperate I took eight sleeping tablets someone gave me. I still didn't sleep, but when i got my wake-up call i felt extremely shaky. I was also very conscious of the irony: I was in Thailand, home of my favourite poison, and I couldn't get any because I was never left alone from 6am until midnight, and then I was too wrecked to try anything. I also was very wary of the Thai law. I do not know how I got through it; Actually I do know: it was all the fascinating distractions of Thailand and all the frenetic jetting/bussing/boating and running around. I never had the time to feel sorry for myself. Thailand is a truly wonderful country filled with wonderful people. When I came back I was "clean" and again felt fantastic, but instantly my mental being said: "Give XXXX a call and have a hit to celebrate getting back whole". Oh, that sneaky mind!
I suppose the "moral" of this story is that when you are withdrawing the secret is to take yourself out of your own paradigm and right into a completely different world. This time I can't do it that way, so I just have to try to draw on my experiences and stick it out. Ultimately that is what it is all about: Just hanging in there and getting better day by day. And defying that sneaky mind.
If you are still with me, thanks for staying. I love all you junkies. Remember: What doesn't kill you will make you stronger. Hang in there!
Hi Jimshady, and Welcome to the board...when I was WDing last year I think doing exactly what your doing right now; (writing it all out) was how i got through it...I can relate to the "cant concentrate" on anything while in WD's...I think thats when I started the recovery diary thing, it really helps...for some reason just writing everything out was all I could do...try starting one; keeps your mind occupied and the writing actually can help with the recovery issues...hang In there; and keep coming back....talking to other junkies and ex-junkies here; helped like nothing else ever seemed to...congrats on wanting to stay clean this time...we all seem to get off the merry go round at different points...but only WE know when its time....:)
Constantine
Constantine
Hey Constantine, thanx fr your post. In reality, it's always the time, but I know what you mean. Every time I think that I can't do it again, I have a panic attack; everything that is at stake flashes before my eyes and I am terrified that gear is going to win the draw again. Sheet. I do find that music helps a lot. When I am WDing I find that I rediscover music; old favourites, new stuff. I am not a classical music enthusiast, but I really think listening to a classical music station over the earphones is a big help.
Anyway, as for diaries, I'n not much of a diary dude. Maybe it'll just develop while I'm ranting and rambling. At least I don't have night delirium any more when I WD. Oh, I find (I know it's a very non-PC thing, but...) some kind of spiritual faith also helps, perhaps not in withdrawal ("Why me, God, what the f*** did I ever do to you!?") but certainly in recovery. I find that in about the seventh day, perhaps a bit earlier, one's perception of one's surroundings and self and nature expands somewhat, and you can have spiritual epiphanies that are very beautiful... Whatever.
Take care.
Anyway, as for diaries, I'n not much of a diary dude. Maybe it'll just develop while I'm ranting and rambling. At least I don't have night delirium any more when I WD. Oh, I find (I know it's a very non-PC thing, but...) some kind of spiritual faith also helps, perhaps not in withdrawal ("Why me, God, what the f*** did I ever do to you!?") but certainly in recovery. I find that in about the seventh day, perhaps a bit earlier, one's perception of one's surroundings and self and nature expands somewhat, and you can have spiritual epiphanies that are very beautiful... Whatever.
Take care.
true; seems like for awhile you come through you get clearer and sometimes more spiritual...I know the diary thing isnt for everyone; but its a good place to rant sometimes :) Im an x-IV user too; many years too...I went with the methadone this time...best thing I think I ever did...know its not for everyne; but Im glad I did it...I know I wont stay clean without it yet...:) Glad your feeling a bit better :)
Con
Con
Hey jimshady, thanks for the shout ,count your days like they were made of gold because when you've been through the sh@t that most of us have days clean are worth more and they are so painfull to loose. I try and keep things simple get up music on get fed get washed then plan a nice walk to a park taking my time not like when i was hooked and everything was done at warp factor 9. Get home another bite to eat music on remind myself things are good i'm wining the fight ,come online read any responces which if they are there give me the most amazing boost ,i guess its about trying to keep that feel good factor and understanding the reason its they're is because your clean ,so always remind yourself how well your doing ,keep eating,keep drinking,keep it real the rest will come days turn to weeks and weeks to months before you know it . Where you at anyway JS if you dont mind me asking ....PEACE OUT!!
Hi St Pauli, thanx for the post and all. Not gonna write very much now - feeling crap. Weird, one moment you're feeling better and a couple hours later it's back to the agony! I am in Joburg, South Africa. You?
Take care and best wishes
Jim
Take care and best wishes
Jim
Sooth Efrica Eh ! am aw over that ser ,got loads a kin out there randsburg palaborwa,durban...and a few places i probably couldn't pronounce far less spell ,hope tings are just peachy for you mate if theres anyway you could get put onto subutex i'd advise it strongly theyre fizzzn wicked anyway must dash keep us posted PEACE OUT!!!!!
