Relapse

I’m so glad the holidays are over — so glad. As a non-celebrator, I find it fascinating (and moderately annoying) to watch so many people rush around like mindless drones searching for that perfect deal on whatever senseless item they or their loved ones can’t live without this year. “That’s harsh,” a more compassionate part of me says. I’m not a materialistic person. I don’t understand our consumerist society or its need to waste valuable resources and time on pointless purchases. I don’t even want to understand it. The holidays are only a reminder to me that greed is alive and well in the hearts of many — not all but many — individuals who are preyed upon by even more greedy corporations who perpetuate the problem.

Enough of that rant, not the point of this post.

I visited my mom for a few days prior to Christmas. A couple of weeks prior to my visit I had a particularly vicious flu virus that stopped me dead in my tracks. A full month later, I’m still coughing up mucus and feeling worn out. Thankfully, I was over the worst of it by the time I visited Mom, but I still wasn’t feeling up to par. I was very worried about exposing my mom to whatever I had because her dialysis treatments leave her weak enough as it is. She was grateful for the visit. I was also; yet it makes me sad to watch her health deteriorate, much in the same way as my dad before he died.

By the time I returned home, I was physically exhausted, emotionally overstimulated, and mentally worn out. That first night home, KR handed me a pipe and said, “Here, smoke this.” Oh, sweet heavenly nectar of the gods, my drug of choice — marijuana. I didn’t even think twice about it. I just smoked it, savoring the blissful change in perception. This went on for 7 days, until it was all gone. That first night without was a let down. That all too familiar feeling of, “Aww, back to reality.” That second night without, KR went and bought a huge bottle of Jack Daniels, my drink of choice. Yeah, I binged that night, skipped one night, and binged the following night. I don’t miss alcohol at all. At least weed doesn’t give me a hangover.

Why did I give up after 130 days sober?!

Just over 4 months clean and sober….

Why do I do this to myself?

Starting over once again….

One week sober, now, I’m questioning myself relentlessly. When I think back to all the times I’ve quit smoking pot or drinking alcohol in the past, rarely did I make it past that 4 month mark without giving in to one or the other. Why 4 months? Taking into consideration the many traumatic experiences of my adult life, it dawned on me that the two rapes in ’98 occurred exactly 4 months to the day apart from each other. Could that seriously be the trigger? Such a simple explanation for a seemingly complex lack of self-awareness. Is that realization enough to prevent another relapse? I don’t know. I guess I’ll see 4 months from now.