*Arid Tear Ducts*

Well, so… quick status update: almost over the flu, again. That says enough right there, believe me. Although I didn’t have it as bad this time it was still rough. My back and abs (yes, I have them… they’re just under this protective bubble wrap layer!) are really sore from the puking and I still feel a little weak. But, really… so, so much better than just a couple of days ago. I even made it to physical therapy yesterday. My shoulder is in agony from that because we started heavy-duty strength training. It’s amazing to me how weak my right shoulder is, until I consider the surgery and lack of much use of it for a long, long time. I’ll not do the home exercises for a day or two to let it calm down because I’m afraid to hurt it further by not being able to tell my true tolerance level at this point.

Being down for the count for a few days, doing nothing much aside from the insane amount of sleep I got and lying around otherwise, I really tried to give myself a release. I feel constantly of late like I am about to cry, and it seems like something I could really, really benefit from doing. The problem is that I just can’t seem to get over the brink of crying to actually do it. I have even spent a lot of time dwelling on stuff that should make me cry: Patty’s death; my ruined financial situation because of canceled programs and shit that have cost me over $200/month, money that I could sorely afford to lose; loneliness that I’m feeling more and more now that I am becoming more clear-headed as the morphine dosage is again titrated down (from 280mg/day to 105/day, all prescribed, of course… that first figure doesn’t take into account the several months where I was taking much, much more, abusing the morphine in order to not feel anything); still missing Mickey so much I literally get a tightness in my chest and my body aches, even now, almost two years later; and so on.

Why is it so difficult for me to cry right now? That’s always the way with me: never could get even a buzz when I wanted to get plastered; and can’t cry when it seems like that’s what I really want and need to do. Maybe it’s because I really don’t have anyone to talk with about my shit, what’s going on with me. Oh, sure… I have my counselor. But that’s just once per week for forty-five minutes, and as much as she tries to get me to let emotion flow during our sessions I tend to dissociate enough to be able to talk more like I’m reading a script and not allowing emotion to get through. It’s frustrating for us both, believe me. An example is the first session I had with her after Patty died. I was relating the story of what happened and my eyes filled. But I couldn’t dive over the edge and just flat-out bawl like I needed to. Even with my counselor’s encouragement that it was okay, that I was in a safe place, etc., I just could not give myself that release. And it’s still that way. I’m so afraid that I will be out and about somewhere when it happens… some place where it would be inappropriate or just seem strange. Or… what if I somehow have crossed a line of some sort and will never be able to cry again?

The big thing going on, which I’ve mentioned previously, is the fact that the IOP program in which I’m currently enrolled has become a joke, completely out-of-control and distracting/disruptive to the point where I’m not getting anything out of it but aggravation and frustration. I had decided to write a letter to my “team,” my counselor, psychiatrist and doctor, who are all helping me to once and for all kick the morphine I’ve taken for so, so long. So just before my session with my counselor last Thursday I typed up the following letter, printing out a copy to each:

I would like to request your permission to permanently withdraw from the IOP program at LifeLink of which I am currently a member/client. I have learned so much since starting the program, but that is rarely the case anymore. There are numerous problems with this program, only some of which I will mention, as follows:

The various facilitators exert practically no control over the sessions, allowing people to come and go no matter where in the day’s program we are; several members are under the influence of various substances, which is against the rules and contrary to the form signed when beginning the program; while in session, in the classroom, a member “smokes” using a vaporizer or electronic cigarette-type apparatus that seems to have marijuana in it, and he is allowed to share this with other members; more than one member is allowed to sleep through almost all of the sessions; more than one member is constantly texting or, in some cases, making and receiving phone calls while in session; several members are allowed to refuse to participate in various activities even though there is most often no valid reason for doing so; many days are nothing but pure chaos, with constant talking and laughing over and while another member or even one of the facilitators is speaking; and many other more trivial issues not worth mentioning.

I understand that there will often be difficulties from IOP members who are their by court or P.O. order, and that they will most likely be averse to participation. It just so happens that, in the case of this particular program in which I am enrolled, these particular members are allowed to do whatever they want with almost no interference from the facilitators. The inmates truly are running the asylum. Me being me, I have spoken with three different facilitators about these issues and how it is negatively affecting my benefiting from the program. In every case it has been promised that something will be done. Yet after the last several weeks things remain the same and are even getting worse.

I would like to offer that, as an alternative to the IOP program, I instead attend NA and AA meetings, the NA meeting being at 12:00 noon Mondays at the Center for Spiritual Living; and the AA meeting being at 6:00 p.m. Mondays at St. Bede’s Episcopal Church (an open meeting but with predominately a GLBTQI membership). I will still keep record of my meeting attendance to provide proof to you that I am honoring my part of this new agreement.

Please discuss this and advise me as to whether this counter-offer is acceptable. I am not backing out or back-pedaling or trying to renege on my commitment. However, the IOP is a complete waste of time, as has been shown, above.

Thank you for your ongoing assistance, and for your consideration of my request.

My counselor was extremely receptive to what I had written and understood and, most importantly, validated me and what I feel are difficulties that should not be. The only thing she didn’t really go for was that I attend, instead, NA and AA meetings. She really wants me to continue and finish an IOP program, which I understand because in the beginning I was getting so much out of it. Example? I have not cut nor ripped my skin for over two-and-a-half months now! That is huge, believe me, as I can’t remember the last tim

e I went this long without self-harming. I’ve also learned that it is okay for me to get angry, and also better ways of which to express that anger, not the destructive ways I’m used to doing it.

My hesitation at getting into a different IOP program is two-fold: the only other ones here in town are at night; and I would have to start at the beginning again and go three times per week for four months. I’m over half-way in the current program and I’m already sick of having to go three times per week to it. The thought of having to start over again makes me just flat sick to my stomach. As it is, I’m expected to go to NA and AA afterward, anyway, for continuing aftercare. I don’t know how I feel about that, but will cross that proverbial bridge when I get to it.

The other option my counselor presented was that since she knows well the director of the organization where I’m currently attending the IOP program, she would contact him, present my letter and (with my permission, of course) talk with him about our conversations over the past few weeks about how bad it is. She left him a message when I was still in her office and I guess they talked soon after my appointment was finished because not long after I got home I had a message from my counselor that it was going to be handled and things would most definitely improve. I panicked a bit because I really didn’t want to get anyone into trouble… I just wanted the program to be effective for me, to be able to continue to grow and even improve, which I feel I had been doing up to the point when it started to go south. I guess my counselor and the director talked for quite a while. I ended up getting a call the next day from the acting IOP administrator (the usual main guy is out due to his mother’s passing). I had left her a message early that morning to let her know I wouldn’t be in the class that day due to having to have my breathing equipment inspected and serviced and the place handling it not being willing to work around my schedule. Truth be told, I just flat didn’t want to go anyway. Anyway, she assured me that no one is in trouble, that the rules were once again gone over, that no smoking apparatus of any kind (pot vaporizers specifically) would be allowed… pretty much almost all of the things addressed in my letter.

So who knows… maybe by getting pissed off but handling it in a sort of professional matter (meaning the letter I wrote) has made a difference in the IOP classes, for me and the others who truly want to be there and who were benefiting until control was lost. I guess maybe I did a good thing by handling the anger over this bullshit the way I did instead of just going off half-cocked and quitting the program. I’ll know more today when I attend my first class after the dust-up. I really hope it goes well. If not I really will just have to find a way to buck up and suffer through the rest of my time there, just biding time until I get my certificate of completion. In other words, waste/kill time, if no improvements are forthcoming. I hope that’s not the case. I want to learn more, to discover better ways of coping with my life and handling crises, etc. And I want to keep learning how to avoid any type of relapse, on either morphine or alcohol.

Oh, I’ll end this on a pretty upbeat note, for once. I just mentioned the alcohol part and wanting to avoid relapsing on it. While I don’t remember the exact date, I do remember that it was the second week in April, twenty years ago when I took control of my severe alcohol addiction and quit drinking. And I was a big ol’ drunk, too, to the point that my life was being ruined on all fronts. I’m really proud of myself! Twenty years is HUGE, isn’t it? I’ll admit that I’ve had, maybe, three drinks during the past two decades. And I’ll admit, too, that I still have periods of time when I struggle with the desire to drink again. But I’ve made it twenty years and have no intention of falling back to it. I’m confident I won’t, but that confidence is shaken every now and then. It truly IS a lifelong deal, this sobriety thing. But I’m making it, doing well, and will hopefully continue to be as strong as I have been with both the liquor and the opiates. I hope you are still on my side and rooting for me.