(Disclaimer: This post contains a lot of fucks, but not a lot of fucks given.)
I’m an addict. We all know this. It’s old news.
I mean, I guess that depends on what your definition of old is. Is 10 years old? Because that’s when it started. So really, my addiction is in elementary school.
Which makes me feel a little better about this next bit, because if my addiction is in elementary school than my sobriety is still a toddler. It’s probably not even in daycare yet.
So it’s only natural for it to forgo the potty; to forget how horrible shitting all over yourself is, and want to do it again, right?
* * * * *
I always took pride in the fact that I had no cravings. Everyone else is all, Oh yeah, I think about it all the time and I’m over here like, Psh, you’re crazy, I wouldn’t touch that shit again with Johnson’s dick.
I’m mixing up metaphors. Anyway . . .
The other night I really wanted a beer. Which is no big deal, because I still indulge in a long-necked nightcap from time to time.
I didn’t get any because I had no money and, quite honestly, didn’t feel like leaving the house, but the cravings persisted over the next few days. I still didn’t think anything of it — it’s just one beer, after all.
The next day I found out that my new meds do not mix well with espresso. I went to get my usual Starbucks Caramel Macchiato, and after about 1/4 of it I was shaking and bouncing and driving like a maniac and sweating. I was a mess. (And I had only gotten a grande — not a venti!) i remember thinking how much it made me feel like I was coming down from coke — all cracked out and wide awake but exhausted and fidgety as hell but without the feelgood feeling. And then I wanted some coke, for the feelgood effect.
I didn’t think much of that, either. Of course I would want coke after feeling like I was coming down from coke. That’s kind of how it works, after all. Plus it was my first drug-love, so I’ll always have a soft spot for the sucker.
Today I was driving to therapy, blasting the music with the windows down and all that, a little jittery from my (regular) coffee, and my brain smacks me in the face by thinking, Hey, you know what would be awesome right now? Some fucking dope. Remember how that first cigarette after a shot used to taste?
SHUT THE FUCK UP BRAIN. That’s what the rational part of my brain thought. It was telling itself to shut up.
So I turned the music up louder and started dancing and picking my nose (no lie) and quieted that bastard.
But once I got home it’s like, Hey, so how about that beer? and I realized this beer craving isn’t my normal nightcap craving. The coke craving isn’t just because I felt coked out. They’re full-on addiction cravings.
Where the hell did that come from?
* * * * *
Why would I want to shit myself (or on myself) again? The idea of being lazy and just doing my business anywhere is slightly alluring, but not that alluring. Covering myself in feces is no match to flushing it down a real big-kid potty.
During therapy I found out my tendency to go big or go home — my black and white thinking — do it all or none at all — is another aspect of my addiction. It’s an addict’s mentality. It’s not normal, per-say, just as I suspected. So what’s making it burst out like the fucking terminator now?
I just looked in the mirror and noticed how small my pupils look, and thought Wouldn’t it be nice to have a reason for them to look like that? I want to credit that thought to writing this post, because my mind is already on drugs. But I know it’s something else.
* * * * *
This is how my brain works. Years without a hitch, and then BAM MOTHERFUCKER. I’m just sticking around to remind you I’ll never go away, no matter where you turn. I’m waiting to sneak in the second you aren’t paying attention. I’m hiding behind friendly faces and once-upon-a-time melodies and that movie you watched high once. I’m in the eyes of your friends and your enemies and yourself. I’m stuck in your hair like cigarette smoke. I’m under your fucking skin, and I ain’t going anywhere.
That’s the addict part of my brain speaking, if you didn’t know.
Now I just have to be more careful than usual, I guess.
And not indulge in that occasional long-necked nightcap this time.
* * * * *
Have you ever experienced random cravings out of nowhere like this? What did you do about it? Let me know! (Please don’t tell me I’ll be okay and you believe in me — for reasons I’m working out with my therapist, that kind of talk makes me uncomfortable. I know I’ll be okay, but thank you.)