My Little Friend, Cocaine

Pic soaking legs

I don’t know why but I’ve been doing cocaine again. I had the hardest time quitting fifteen years ago. I didn’t touch it for about five years. Then I did it three times over a period of a couple weeks. On the third time, I saw some ugliness in the people I was with. I stopped doing coke again.

I didn’t touch it for almost a decade after that. And now, for the past year or so, I’ve been trying to keep it under control. But I can never keep it under control. I’m an addict. There is no controlling something that takes over your mind.

People have scoffed at me when I say I can’t control myself. But they’ve never been inside my head. It’s like an annoying little kid that won’t shut up on a long, never ending car ride. Do we have coke yet? Did we get it? Is it coming? Is it here? How about now? Now? Is it here now?

I have to stop completely. It’s all or nothing for me. I don’t know anywhere in between. I bought two small bags this time. My intent was to save one bag for another day as opposed to dumping it all out in one big pile. I finished the first bag and cut right into the second one. I did all of it tonight.

Being bipolar, it makes me feel so good when I’ve been just feeling flat. Or even depressed. It does cure depression. During a very dark time for me I did some cocaine, well, a lot of cocaine, and my depression was gone. Seriously. Maybe talk with your health care practitioner first before hitting up your neighborhood dealer, but it worked for me.

I know how to quit. First, you just don’t do it. Then you find new hobbies to replace the addiction. I know exercise is extremely helpful. I know meditation is even better. I know these things. I just like the coke too much.

But I’m getting older. And I haven’t taken the best care of my body over the years. I’ve been worried about my heart with the cocaine. Sometimes I like to do so much coke I can’t see straight anymore.

A few weeks back, I thought I was having a heart attack. Stabbing pains and then this crushing feeling like someone was sitting on top of my chest. I went to the ER. It wasn’t a heart attack. I got diagnosed with chest wall pain. Whatever that is.

I’m pretty sure it was an anxiety attack. I’ve never had one before but I’ve felt similar crushing sensations since. The most intense one I had was walking away from a conversation with my boss. Like someone was on top of me again. That’s what sealed the deal for me that it must be anxiety.

I have been messing up my meds. Damnit. I just realized I missed the night one again. It fucks with me. More than I’d like. I thought about stopping them. Well, tapering off. You don’t just stop these kinds of meds unless you’re a masochist. It’s torture. Debilitating. Not an option for me. Tried it once. Never again.

If I could just stop buying more cocaine, take my meds as prescribed, and find a new hobby, I’d be just fine. It’s not rocket science but damn is it elusive to me. But with each breath we take, we get another chance. Each thought we have, we get another opportunity to catch it. Redirect it. Optimize it.

There are tools out there to help. I could set an alarm on my phone to take my meds. I could use my little weekly pill box. I could even get wild and start taking all the supplements my body needs right alongside with my meds. Ok, ok, that’s pushing it. But it would be helpful.

That’s what life is all about. The right tools for the job. Knowing what to use and when. I’ve quit before. I can do it again. I just need to brush off my tool belt.


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