Why Methadone Was Not An Option… For Me

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Turkey (Photo credit: wattpublishing)

I started drinking at an early age.  It became a way for me to stomach myself each time I looked in the mirror or engaged with other humans.  I never thought it would come full circle and the thing that gave me ‘people power’ would take that power away along with any perceived power over every other person, place or thing in my life.

Getting clean and sober was not an easy task for me by any stretch of the imagination (is it easy for any of us?).  I made a decision to go cold turkey.  I locked myself in my basement apartment for roughly a week only going outside to walk down to the Walgreen’s to get cigarettes (I also drank gallons of water).  I was dizzy, sweating, cold, hot, felt nauseous, had wicked stomach knots and the shakes just to name a few symptoms of opiate withdrawal.  I became a skeletal recluse for those seven or so days and it was the best thing I ever did for myself.

Now, I’m not saying going ‘cold turkey’ is the best way – and I didn’t go cold turkey – but for some, it is the best way.  I weaned myself until there was nothing left but me, my coffee cup and lots of cigarette butts.  I pretty much glued my ass to this chair in said basement and just eked it out.  It was fucking hell, lemme tell ya.  I mean, at the height of my addiction, I was consuming about 1000 mg of Percocet a day along with one or two Fentanyl pops and not to mention all the 80 mg Oxy’s I was crushing and snorting.  Yeah, I probably should have been dead a few times.

I read so many horror stories about people who use methadone or Suboxone to wean off opiates.  It makes no sense to me as an addict.  Seriously.  Why would I want to stop using one drug only to become addicted to another?  It made zero sense to me.  I did go to an outpatient center, they asked me how long I was off pills and I told them.  Now, I was off for about a week or so when I called this place.  They actually suggested these two drugs to me.  I was like, “NO EFFING WAY.” I didn’t go through hell in my basement for that time only to revisit a different level of hell.  Thanks, but no thanks.

I belong to a few groups on Facebook centered around recovery and hope.  This is where social media is truly awesome.  We get to share ideas, thoughts and a lot of memes.  I have been reading about methadone and Suboxone use in opiate withdrawal.  It seems like a double-edged sword.  On one hand, an addict is getting off the hard shit or fist fulls of pills.  On the other hand, they are creating a brand new addiction that is equally gruesome.

I read a lot of statements that go something like, “I have been clean for three months, well, really two days because I was on Suboxone all that time.  I feel like crap and I want to use.” Seriously?!

Please understand… I judge no one.  I am no better than anyone, period.  I just don’t understand.  So I guess in a sense, I am asking: if anyone using either of these for opiate withdrawal or using something else for opiate withdrawal could explain to me why this is a choice, that would be great.

Yes, the basement was hell.  I may even write about it one day in a memoir because I feel like people should know how fucking awful opiate withdrawal really is.

Looking back, I am glad I did it that way.  I may not have survived if I became addicted to something else.

Comments

  1. I’m so proud of you! I’ve always been afraid of addiction and the fear has kept me healthy. I am so glad this is all behind you. I love your idea of a memoir if you can handle reliving it. That’s why I am writing the Boob Reports, so they’ll all be done and I won’t have to relive so much of it even if I edit and expand on them.
    ((((hugs))))

  2. I’ve been where you were. Uppers to get moving in the morning, downers to go to sleep at night. I went cold turkey. I was 20. Worst week of my life. I locked myself in a room I rented in downtown Atlanta, made up some excuse to my boss that I was sick with the flu. For days I sweated, puked, shook, cried, begged for my pills. I also found myself on my knees asking God to forgive me and lift me from my self-imposed hell. It took a while longer to rid myself of the toxic relationship I was in because I thought I could ‘save’ him. Some lessons just take longer to learn. I’ve never craved that life again. I pray for those who see no other way out. My heart goes out to you and other survivors. You took the hardest step…to admit you needed help. I knew someone on methadone. It did him no good. I’m glad you chose not to go that route. Kudos to you. Here’s to surviving and turning your life around.

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