A Downpour of Enlightenment

Its raining today.  My fiance let me sleep in until 2 p.m.  Which is kind of an unspoken agreement between us when its raining.  Moisture, especially when its cold, tends to make my bones ache and rattle with what seems like every drop that propels itself from the ugly grey sky. 

If this had been four days ago, I would have taken much more than my usual regime of around 150-200 mg per day, sometimes even doubling that figure.  Rainy days gave me permission to over-medicate myself.

Today, I don't have that option.  But surprisingly enough, I don't ache as bad as I thought I would when my fiance announced what the weather was like.  Looking back in retrospect, I now believe that even though my aches and pains were valid, I believe they were probably heightened by withdrawal symptoms I so often encountered when I would awake from a long slumber.  I probably took advantage of my mind's justification allowing myself to over-medicate.  Over-medicating gave me permission not to feel so bad about taking pills at all, when usually, deep within the confines of my mind I would damn myself every time I bit and swallowed. Over-medicating promised my entire day would be filled with that euphoric feeling I lusted for, even now.

I can say with a firm heart I never took pills with the intention of getting high.  I never nodded out as a result of taking too many.  I never crushed and snorted or shot up.  I took pills with full intentions on not feeling my physical afflictions.  The side effects, however, added fuel to addiction when I began to believe I was a nicer, more patient and loving person.  It seemed all to positive, with no draw backs.  To be candid, it still does, actually.

To be controlled by an inanimate object, to be controlled period, is not okay with me anymore.  Two weeks ago, I would have only admitted in my own head, to hide my weakness, that I could not live without pills.  The fear of being ill and in pain was too much.  And the question begged, why should I have to?  Justification being who cares if I am physically addicted; I am not in pain; I'm nicer to be around.  What I failed to realize is if no one else does, I do.  My life shouldn't depend on how full or empty my medication bottle is.  People shouldn't enjoy my company because of a false sense of courteousness.  And I really shouldn't care what most people think.  Looking back, this may be the same reason I have allowed so many people to use me, walk all over me, and subsequently shit on me, figuratively speaking, of course.

Today, the rain, usually representing how depressing the world is, with its almost endless tear drops falling from sad, grey, swollen clouds, speaks differently on this day. 

I have realized two things:

1.)  In a more metaphoric light, I am weathering my own storm of sorts.  What I do know is that the rain will not last forever.  And those sad, grey, swollen clouds will become white with life again, dancing across blue skies and embracing the warmth of the sun again.  The drops which seem to fall endlessly, don't.

2.)  In a more literal sense, this has proven to me that I don't need a double dose of any medication to get through a rainy day.  While my bones do ache a bit, I am able to think so much more clearly today and honestly, its not half as bad as I have made it out to be in years past. 

Have I mentioned I have not taken any Soboxone today?

In this moment, I will relish in the fact that my life, recovery, and addiction (or lackthereof) seem hopeful. 

Moments do not live forever, 

but do mark a permanent stain on which to return to when things seem hopeless again.