So I wake up in the morning, this happened on Monday. AS fucking always, anxious because my stomach stopped working. I make a bunch of mint tea, till now I thought it was helpful for my acid reflux but surprisingly you should avoid it, at least that’s what doctors say because it apparently makes some main muscle that stands between acid and…whatever it’s basically like a wall that separates acid reflux and when you drink mint tea it relaxes the muscle and it lets the acid flush in…and your stomach can’t digest with the acid. Anyways, here’s the fucking explanation if you care (it’s #4 on the list).
Fuck you driveway!
I get into my car, it’s all good, pour my mint tea from a glass jar into my drinking cup (yep, fucking weird) before heading out to work. Start driving. Leave my driveway.
And I hear this noise. I wonder where the fuck did it come from? Ahh whatever, I just keep driving but then start to feel my car’s steering wheel forcefully turning to the right.
I am still very sleepy, just woke up like 13.5 minutes ago. My reflexes kick in, I stop the car and automatically get out without even knowing. I see the flat tire and just stare at it like I have super powers to fix it telepathically. I honestly was hoping that things would just change. But they never do, do they?
I am anxious, my car’s tire is flat and I am not sure how to change it. Actually, deep inside I don’t really care about trying to change it. It’s too much stress all at once. I feel like someone just punched me in the face. I do try to change it just so I can validate to myself my excuse of not knowing how to do it, therefore I can call in to work and say that I have car problems when in reality I have health problems. Does this sound normal?
What do you think I do next after I text to work and let them know I won’t be able to come in today?
I just drove back home with a flat tire not giving the slightest fuck. Thank god it wasn’t that far, just little streets.
There is a reason why they stopped making these tires
Yes, they do not make them anymore. I had a history. I have blown up so many of them. Specifically these brand tires and I would just get the same brand new ones….
I guess I really loved driving around while secretly drinking. Especially going from work in the early days of my drinking. There could be nothing more rewarding then getting a gulp of coke and mixing it up with….You know what. Be all chill and drive home.
My stories include running away from cops, I guess they didn’t really care enough to chase me down. Fuck was I scared the next day because I did show him my ID so I assume he knew my info. Disclaimer: drinking and driving was the most dangerous and stupidest thing I have ever done, so no, I do not condone my behavior nor am I trying to glorify my experience. I am actually sharing this as a therapeutic experience for myself to never go back to that low life. Basically I live close to the soccer stadium, and I guess that night there was a game, and this cop was controlling the car crowd/traffic and I was so wasted that I didn’t really follow his instructions, so he told me to drive aside and wait. I did follow his directions, drove aside, and when I stopped, I was like what the fuck will happen to me now? I looked around, he was busy directing the traffic so I decided to drive away. I mean I don’t even know why I got there in the first place, I was just driving around drunk, minding my own shitty feelings and thoughts. You know what’s the worst shit? After I drove away I ended up on the same street, going back the same direction towards that cop who was managing the traffic. Thank god there was a traffic jam so I had enough time to realize what I was doing…
This other time I was driving around drunk, ended up in a very bad neighborhood and blew up my two tires on the right side. Somehow I kept driving for a few miles with flat tires till I reached the gas station. I mean what the fuck? This neighborhood is so bad that there are actually a shitload of cops everywhere. They had their patrol cars parked like only a couple blocks away at the train station from me. I had no fucking idea where I was. Somehow I paid off to a gas station clerk to let me keep my car parked at the gas station overnight and I got a cab to get home.
The next day I asked my dad to give me a ride to that place and while we were waiting for the tow truck a fucking prostitute started soliciting us. How fucking embarrassing is that? It was just facked up cause her pimp was standing around the corner so I was obliged to take her phone number in fear of being attacked by his fucking homies if I didn’t. Yep, I guess that’s how it feels to be a minority.
I mean there are other stories but… I dont know, do you think it’s the luck of stupid tires?
When it comes to my cars tires this is truly me:
After my stress levels came down that morning
I started to think. I have a day off! My stomach kept making me feel like shit, actually I am surprised when I feel ok. That’s how rare feeling good is…
How long can I keep living in the pain like this? Worst shit is that I did go to immediate care before and they didn’t do a shit, the so-called doctor just referred me to his fucking buddy and gave me over the counter acid reflux meds. I never made a follow-up appointment with his shit buddy.
Then as I was sitting I remembered this hot, I assume she’s Arabian (not good with races) doctor from like almost a year or so ago when I was so fucking hangover that I needed medical note for my work and medication to help me get through that shit. The crazy way I found this place was googling while still being fucking drunk the night before going to that immediate care unit. I think it is the only one that can prescribe you good shit. You know what I am talking about, diazaphenes (thats all you need for a blissful party in your pants during a bad hangover).
From my memory I remember her being very nice and she took her time with me because I told her I wanted to stop drinking and I wasn’t lying…I did want to but I felt so insane about my problems that I wasn’t willing to seek help. I was scared to come out as some mentally ill fuck. She gave me a list of places that offer intensive outpatient programs but I only had the guts to call them when I was kind of drunk. Some of them of course had waiting times and I never returned their calls. It took me over the year of hopeless drinking and quitting a bunch of jobs to finally get the help I needed after I ended up at the hospital (psych ward more accurately) and they gave me a chance to go to rehab.
Eventually I did change my blown tire to a spare one
I thought why not kill two birds with one stone?-is that the saying? I drove to the car mechanic near by and left the car, went back home and borrowed the other car so I could go to the doctor. I had to do something with the stupid acid reflux.
So I was driving with my thoughts in my mind: at least today I will see someone hot. lol I actually didn’t remember how she looked like at all, I just knew that she was supposed to be good looking.
Anyways I filled the hipaa form just sitting in the waiting room till the doctor popped out. Idk to be honest I was a bit in shock, it was her but she looked different, still hot I guess.
I just now realize that she might have lied about remembering me (good customer service??). I mean I am sure she had her notes written about me. Ahh how could I have fallen for that? I am just joking, don’t really care.
It was going well till questions about my sexual history came up
I lied to all of them saying that I have been abstinent this year and stuff then I sat there answering other questions feeling quilty and thinking why am I lying? That’s actually a very good question to explore deeper…
One thing that I am learning in my sobriety is to take those big risks occasionally that are totally out of character for me (I am the only one who knows the true me, so I know it’s out of character) and answer something truly and honestly when I catch myself choosing to hide/lie about because it is way more comfortable and safer to do so.
Eventually I found the courage and went back telling her: “You know, I think…” I dont know how it made her feel because all my energy was focused on finding courage, but she was idk maybe confused or surprised and I don’t remember the exact question she asked because my system was in overload, but it was related to why? My answer was because I wanted to be honest but then I wasn’t honest all the way. I just admitted on this year’s stuff and then kind of the overall number which was 80% true.
Down deep I do know why? but I won’t be discussing that here, part of it was because it is really out of my character that I represent for everyone I meet. I guess the other part that I am willing to admit to is that it is not moral, my reasons why? were not moral. Deep down I went against my morals, but one could argue about that…
Opening up about my x history made her go back to the smoking question
At the beginning I claimed that I didn’t smoke, just very rarely. So she wrote down that I am a non-smoker. I can explain myself. I wasn’t sure how to answer this question, because I occasionally binge smoke. When I smoke I smoke like 5-7 cigarettes. It is usually when I get too stressed out or have a very bad craving. I guess it does give me a high for a few minutes. So am I a smoker? but that’s what I told her. I guess that makes me a smoker. I was embarrassed about my binge smoking. I mean it’s abnormal to smoke that many cigarettes at once. Maybe I should just buy a cigar.
I found that if I smoke regularly I lose that temporary high. So I have reserved smoking as a treat for when I’m going through a tough time.
Doctors know about good customer service, getting benzodiazepines isn’t that hard…
As longest you can project the right character. Faking anxiety, depression and wanting to quit drinking isn’t that hard.
Problem is that doctors do want to prescribe you benzodiazepines. Thats their money maker. I mean she knew that I am an addict. I have been sober only for 8 months and that didn’t stop her for prescribing me 0.5MG tablets of Lorazepam once every 12 hours(14 tablets total). She didn’t offer me any alternatives like mindfulness, meditation or coloring adult books. It was straight up without any discussion. She didn’t ask me if I think I might start abusing them.
The thing about benzodiazepines, whether it’s librium, activan, or the one she prescribed me, is that this class of drugs works by enhancing the effects of a certain natural chemical in the body (GABA) thus producing a calming effect. Basically it is the same as drinking, that’s why they prescribe them when you’re going through withdrawal.
My relationship with benzodiazepines
It’s not my choice of drug (like there is actually a choice lol) because I can’t act out the drinking act. For me, the drinking act itself is as important as getting drunk. It goes hand in hand. I release my angriness, sadness and disappointment in it. With taking the tablets there is no act. It is simply too fast and then you get hit by the effects. There is no slow motion of sipping, I mean I do chug down a few beers at the beginning to establish the base.
I am hostile against meds too because I think that they are more dangerous even though benzos and alcohol have one of the most dangerous withdrawals compared to other drugs.
When I was prescribed these types of medication in the past I would use them carefully and follow directions. Never mixed them with alcohol and waited it out till their biological life ended to start drinking again.
When I started using medications to relief my hangover symptoms I became alert about my drinking habit
It pushed me to start being aware of my addiction. I mean poisoning your body 24/7 isn’t very wise. That’s why I never drank during my hangovers, instead I sought medical help. I wasn’t willing to cross that line of using meds and drinking. You dont need smarts to realize that it is a slow suicide.
That night when I went back to the hospital all drunk, I took a cab to get there (that’s when they made rehab possible for me) I did have librium. I could have just taken it and maybe been all right, but I was beyond taking it just to be able to get over my hangover, I wanted help. I didn’t even know whether they would admit me. I mean wtf? going to the psych unit? I gave away all my librium to the nurse while in the emergency room, I was silently screaming: “please can you help me? I dont know how to stop drinking.” I told her that I didn’t want it (the librium). I think that it was one of the first times when I gave up on my habit. Actually, it was one of the first times when I, in my own way started opening up to strangers. It wasn’t by speaking, but in a more subtle way…
I do need Lorezapam, but mostly for a placebo effect
It makes me more calm to have it in my pocket. It is only reserved for emergencies at work and only when I am about to jump out of my body. Thankfully I haven’t used any. But it does make me wonder how it will affect me now when I have been sober for a few months. I do not want to open that gate.