(If you haven’t read “December, 2007. My Last Month Being an Addict” you probably should or this might not make any since).
It’s New Year’s Eve, 2007. Jack and I have been on a huge runner preparing to finally quit (that’s sensible thinking, right?) and this was the last night – MY LAST NIGHT OF BEING A METH ADDICT. I was too strung out to be thinking realistically about the impossible task I’m about to embark on. Too physically exhausted to be thinking straight. And on top of the mess I had made of my life, I’m pregnant.
I worked at the thoroughbred stables shoveling horse manure in freezing temps all day but finished early (thanks to a couple extra bumps of meth). I stopped to see my friend to buy our last bag of meth to party on till midnight, and headed home. Jack was already gone to work at the bar when I got home. I called and promised to hurry to his work because he was dying for a hit. I quickly showered and got ready for my New Year’s. But before I left, there was something I needed to do.
I wish I hadn’t gotten rid of the old computer that was my diary those last months, but especially wish I had the journal of this day. I sat at that old computer and expressed what I was going through. I was emotionally and physically exhausted beyond being able to think straight. Best way of dealing with it? I pulled out the bag of meth a lined up my last line (usually Jack and I smoked meth together out of a ‘bowl’ but I liked snorting lines because they made the high last longer, not high sooner). I used a square mirror (yeah, did you know those square mirror candle bases that you buy at Walmart are perfect to make lines on?) and after breaking it up, used a razor blade to shape it into a fat line. It was big. It was going to hurt. I remember staring at it and thinking about everything. My emotions were wild as I fought with real feelings and strung out thinking. I wrote some more on that old computer and even took a picture of that last line. I knew in my heart that the end was going to really be the end. There wasn’t going to be any relapsing this time. I’m done.
I grabbed the straw and did it all in one snort. The pain first struck the inside of my eye and exploded into my brain. I remember holding my head in agony waiting for the pain to subside and the high to kick in. It was minutes before I was able to turned off the computer, put the goods away, hid the baggie in my purse, and headed out to the bar. Jack called, anxious for his high and I put the hurry on.
When I go the bar, Jack had my drink ready like always, friends greeted me warmly, and my hug with Jack made the baggie exchange from my pocket to his. He took off for the bathroom and I went around to say my hellos. It was typical, fun party night with friends all around. We were drinking, smoking pot playing pool, and dumping money into the jukebox.
Right before midnight, Jack and I snuck out to the car to smoke our last bowl together. I was way too high and drunk by this point but it finished the bag. I’m surprised it didn’t kill me.
I don’t remember anything more after that. My memories start reforming sometime mid-morning on New Years Day, a Saturday, when we were hungover preparing for friends to come over and fondue with us. I kinda remember friends coming over but I couldn’t sit here and tell you who all was there.
I DO remember the migraine that accompanied the crash. I remember leaving the party and going face down on the bed. Then blackness.
I surfaced a couple of times but couldn’t open my eyes.
I was starving but couldn’t move to get food. Literally, I had barely eaten in days.
I was cold and needed the heater turned on. But that was a long walk down the hall and my feet were encased in cement.
I knew that Jack was next to me, lost in darkness himself. It did feel good not to be alone.
Sometime Sunday evening, Jack mumbled to me that he was starving so we dragged ourselves out to the kitchen where the kitchen remained destroyed from the New Year’s fondue from the day before. To our delight, there were a couple of deep-fried Twinkies sitting on the counter. We inhaled those – that was the first thing I ate. Then we proceeded to scarf our faces with any food we could find and then decided to try to sit on the couch a few minutes before going back to bed. We turned on the news.
The VERY FIRST story we saw was about meth. Can you believe it? The FIRST thing we see on TV is a meth pipe, a bag of meth, and lighters. REALLY? We were stunned. That is ALL WE WANTED AT THAT MOMENT. We went back to bed. Back to darkness. Back to relief. Back to not facing reality.
I was supposed to be at work the next morning – yeah, that didn’t happen. In fact, I didn’t make it until Tuesday. I can’t tell you how impossible it was to get up, get dressed up and prepare to face that first drive. I was scared and sick. All I wanted was a bump of meth to get me started. It was a rough drive the 40 minutes to the horse barn. I was a total mess – faced with exhaustion, coming down, starvation, and pregnancy. And I was about to put on a face so the world wouldn’t know the inner turmoil I was experiencing. I don’t think I made it a whole day shoving horse manure – I was simply too exhausted and left early. They were getting super mad at me for calling in sick and now leaving early wasn’t doing my career as a horse-manure-shovel-er any good.
The pregnancy. By this time I calculated that I must have been about 9 weeks. And that is what I had to face next.