The acutely-dismal local weather in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia, Canada is currently changing for the better. Vancouver in late April and early May is like three seasons in one day. The necessary logistical and apparel requirement is always a huge inconvenience for my addict brain, riddled with mental health issues that my ego cannot seem to surpass. This ego is the catalyst for all my challenges. They say I’m crazy, but apparently I don’t think so.
My current given journey started like this. Last April in 2023, I found myself at an important turning point after a controversial suicide attempt. Controversial meaning the concerning intention it carried, I could not tell if I was actually serious about it or not. I did hide in my favorite isolated, scuzzy, and derelict location in the Downtown Eastside. The morbid goal was to rest in peace after injecting a larger than normal amount of fentanyl. Intentional overdose is a subjective action, you never really know if it is really going to pan out.. the problem being the day I meet my maker is not up to me, similar to the result of every other thing in life I desire to accomplish. I cannot control it if and when I will have it. Failed suicide attempts, in my legacy anyways, are a motivator to level up or advance to my next spiritual state. So that’s how this “suicide attempt” went. I overdosed, and some lady found me unresponsive in that good old shack on Powell St. Pure and uncut luck was on my side, an ambulance brought me to the hospital where I woke from a coma two days later. I then realized if I didn’t have the wherewithal to successfully move on to my next existence through failed self-sabotaging action, my destiny would lie in helping others. Today that is my community-inspired prerogative as an addict.
That day, over at the infamously-necessary addiction specialized hospital in Downtown Vancouver, something in my motives for living changed. My decision to adapt recovery over addiction began once again (this would be my eighteenth official attempt at restarting) as I layed in a hospital bed adjacent to the patient in the next room. He was having his charcoal bandages changed, which were covering the large open sores on his back as the result of a high level of consequence stemming from daily street life. The ensuing smell of discharge and puss was enough to keep hyenas far away from a dead wildebeest and adequate enough to inspire change. My father’s passing played a part as well, which had originally motivated a decision to resume active addiction after ten months of abstinence in 2022. I used his death as an excuse to numb the pain of my everyday existence. In general, my one and only reason for using drugs at this point in the progression of my addiction is not to get high. That is part of it, but the catastrophically-ultimate goal is to achieve numb.
My loving relationship with my father was a strange one, to say the least. Being one of the centrifugally-smartest men to ever exist, he always had this consistent place on a high pedestal in my life. Due largely to an unhealthy dynamic of expectation creation followed by disappointment, I strongly disagree with placing anything in this life on a pedestal. In the case of my relationship with my father, he was my father. Innately we place high expectations on our parents. I strongly believe that like me, he suffered from ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder). Put aside the frequent procrastination and lack of concern about anyone telling him how something works, he was in my mind the perfect man. He possessed all those qualities which I feel I continue to come short of in my adulthood: mostly certain attitudes and behavior dynamics toward women. As I grew older I began to relate to and understand his behavior and decisions.. which have strongly influenced and shaped the man I am today. He did everything in his power along with my mother, to ensure both me and my brother were never hungry, were dressed according to atmosphere-inspired logistics, and had adequate shelter.
That day I resumed a conscious state after the overdose, I was motivated to live. Not just to be alive and exist, but to live. This was not a novelty or a temporary influential thought pattern. I hated myself for resuming active addiction and in my mind, letting down my father’s soul.
The entire process started with my time in the familiar detox facility in the Downtown Eastside. I arrived as usual strongly addicted to fentanyl and crystal meth. I was so good at jugging (injecting into my favorite artery on the right side of my neck) that I could accomplish this without a mirror, and I had a bruise in that area resembling an injury by way of a baseball bat. The initial deciding factor in the success of my journey this time around was my decision to end my relationship with Methadone, or for the first time in a decade seeing it as a liability in recovery. I consumed prescribed Methadone daily for the better part of twelve grueling years. During active addiction it served a huge purpose, raising my levels of opiate tolerance to a point that relieved me of many potential deadly fentanyl overdoses. For years I thought Methadone and other forms of OAT (opiate agonist therapy) really were the long-term solution to abstaining from my drug use. Like many addicts under the same form of therapy, I felt that having Methadone in my system while living a “clean” lifestyle did not inhibit my psyche and keep me loaded. Subconsciously it was prolonging my active addiction. Because of my rate of relapse and the amount of fentanyl I was taking, I needed a daily witnessed dose through the pharmacy. Life happens, and I would from time to time miss this dose, whether I would sleep in or just couldn’t make it to the pharmacy before closing. This would frequently put me at huge risk of relapse.
The one biggest reason why addicts choose OAT is because they are scared to go through the pain of acute-withdrawal symptoms, as this process is painstaking. Today I firmly believe that to be free of the obsession to use drugs, full abstinence is the only way. PLEASE see Bulletin 29 on the Narcotics Anonymous website for more information on the foundation of this concept (m.na.org/?ID=bulletins-bull29). This in many cases requires a commitment larger than any most addicts have ever attempted.
The light at the end of the tunnel related to opiate/opioid withdrawal provides one of the most intense senses of relief and accomplishment I can fathom, in my experience as a human. Once you free yourself of the atrocity of liquid exiting your three main bodily orifices in unison, an epidemic of restless leg syndrome, and an extended period of mind bending flu symptoms, you now know a deep, hidden part of yourself that you are forever connected to. This critical-to-survival bond is a timeless sense of accomplishment. It carries a right of passage in recovery that motivates to stay abstinent based on general fear of having to endure it once again. For many of us including myself, this is not enough to prevent using opiates once again. We require a deeply-spiritual solution based on a higher power working overtime in our lives.
The detox I attended, which I had previously attended seventeen times, was not about to just admit me and call it a beautiful day. This is where my commitment to abstinence started. The deal was, I would kick methadone and receive a referral to enter The Last Door on a funded bed. Funded being the difference between whether or not payment out of pocket is required to attend this renowned drug and alcohol treatment center, the latter having been impossible. I knew this was my only hope. I was prescribed a detox program of cold-turkey Fentanyl, Methamphetamine, and Methadone abstinence with a diazepam (Valium) taper, followed up with a micro-dose titration onto Buprenorphine (Subutex) after one week. This two-week process would lead into my first shot of extended Buprenorphine (Sublocade). Sublocade is what junkies have coined “the magic shot” as it is a subcutaneous injection administered monthly, the dose tapers down at such a slow rate that withdrawal symptoms are almost non-existent after your final injection. This process built a foundation of an opiate free lifestyle for myself, my family, my loved ones, and the world around me.
Armed with natural determination and a new motivation to stay clean, I arrived at The Last Door one sunny morning last April, 2023. As this is a non-smoking facility, I smoked my last cigarette out front with ample determination to also stay abstinent from tobacco. I had attended this treatment center back in 2019 unsuccessfully, and this carried a certain element of retribution to my psyche. I knew I was ready, I just didn’t know what the journey itself looked like. Trust the process baby, a blessing of certainty exists only in dreams.
I feel that as humans one of our main deficits is related to our need for certainty. Because of our desire and innate drive to constantly feel safe, the need for certainty is always at the forefront of our minds. In addicts this obsession dominates their thought process. Insecurities fly and mingle throughout their daily dealings at all times, causing them grief and a compromised flow of existence. One of the funniest things is the realization that should I not try to control the progress or outcome of any situation, it always works itself out. By working itself out I mean the adapted state of acceptance we come to realize as we work the twelve steps of Narcotics Anonymous. This drive to obtain certainty in all my affairs was naturally very present at the start of my treatment stay. It is a defect that constantly surfaces in all my affairs, a survival aspect of my mental make-up, and something that should I choose to acknowledge daily, I can conquer it and be free. This has evolved to be an essential part of my daily reprieve today. Acceptance is the answer to all my problems, and I realistically know no concrete answers in the game of life.
I spent seven months at the last door, accepted and upholding challenges daily, the prospect of relapse and ruining my life always at the forefront of my consciousness. Last November I completed my treatment stay. I moved out into the New Westminster recovery community and planted a consistent foundation of spiritual growth and altruistic intention. I am so far from perfect, but consequences of my actions serve to aid future decision making. We only learn through lived experience.
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