Ten Months Clean, And Yet...

For ten months, I haven't had a stick, snort or dose. Not a single pill to crush, or strip to dissolve. No wafers. No tiny snap bags of Boi. No shards to crush. No plungers to depress, and no fucking sick...almost. 

When a human wakes, the body begins a process of booting up. For most, that takes twenty minutes and a cup of coffee. Pre-dope me was like that.

Current me wakes up ready to barrel through a fucking wall. My adrenal glands puke in my blood. My brain is never ready for it, and translates it as anger. I cough and grind my teeth. My chest contracts with electricity, evicting all the air from my lungs. Breathing won't happen. It's like I forgot how. Sounds like panic, drowning on dry land.

So what? Is this the rest of my life? I wonder. I have no recourse to any writer on the subject I respect because they all became drinkers. I refuse to do that. Fucking no. I'd rather be a junky than a drunk. Call it preference. 

Any doc would say I should have normalized by now. I agree. I wish that was true much more than anyone would try to convince me it is. I'm not thinking about dope every second of every day. I have spent these ten months trying to convince myself it will end. I'm not going back to the junk. I know that. 

THE POINT: I have to unmentalize (it goes beyond THINK) whatever psychosomatic shit is going on within me. My body is running off decades of habit. All those habituated addict behaviors, not just my actions but also my bodily processes, will not re-regulate fast. And since they aren't ALL in the ego I can't just say, "go away" and POOF! All gone. Addicts who only got Ego-Hooked have it easy. A few days of yucky and then everything's fine. 

But when you got in the cells, baby...ye gods.

Removing the dope doesn't always remove the habit. The Habit Whore switches gears. People become drunks or obese and that's okay, no social stigmas there, but I'm not doing that, because fuck that. But my body rebels, taking an ego shape reminiscent of some twat from a dystopian nightmare. 

"I got the NEED, man! Misplaced Yen looking for life. Dope gives Yen life, see. It's Me or IT, and that thing don't wanna die. Bad biz Bubba. Bad biz. Let me rip out your guts a few minutes drive you to your knees."

Balls.

I have to end on a positive note. I win against the inner bastard every day, and I have amazing physical fortitude. Eventually, like anything else that isn't sustained this will die. I hope. I have faith.

If not, well. Amen. I would rather suck bricks than go back to the junk, so yen'll have to swing.