I know I promised the Operation Alligator FAQ today, but if developments unfold as I am hoping they will, the FAQ will evolve rapidly over the next week. This would potentially allow me to reveal the full scope of the true War on Tedium – of which Operation Alligator is merely the opening skirmish.
Plus I need to get this off my chest:
I am a heroin addict.
It’s something I picked up around the time I got my own apartment. I have decided that, for a variety of reasons — all good — I need to kick this particular habit. So I have embarked on a rehab program. It’s working, sorta. The first couple weeks were terrible. I just sat in a chair and had the need gnaw at me. It’s unpleasant. Really unpleasant.
But it’s not as unpleasant as the next part.
Getting clean can’t carry staying clean’s jock.
Much of my life is — or was — predicated on either a shared love of the stuff, or by being an addict, and now I got a whole new set of issues to work through, with family, friends, coworkers, everybody.
For some, I’m just not cool anymore. They say things like “Why can’t you have just a little heroin? You’re doing great!” and “That’s cool. Just come to the shooting gallery and hang with us while we score. You don’t have to have any.” Guys….I appreciate you trying, but it doesn’t work that way.
There are some very good friends who I haven’t seen since I’m clean, ’cause that’s what we did, was get together and get high. I think they feel hurt. But I have to do this. I miss them. I feel bad I can’t see them. But I can’t, unless they stay clean, which they can’t, and we don’t go to any of our old haunts, which kinda makes it feel like they’re visiting me in jail.
Then there’s the people who want to advise me on how the way I’m quitting — which, demonstrably, works for me — is wrong or is dangerous or, most bizarrely, doesn’t work. They tell me that what I really need to do is take methadone, or get acupuncture, or whatever. You’re not helping. I’m clean. Shut up. You do it your way, I’ll do it my way.
I put those people in the same class as the people who want me to talk constantly about nothing but addiction and recovery. “You’re getting clean?” “Yes.” “Really?” “Really.” “Hey, that’s great! Let’s discuss it, a lot, so that you can feel extra stupid for getting yourself hooked in the first place, and so that we can make sure that smack is always square in the front of your mind.”
I hope that someday I don’t spend every waking moment Not Scoring, which is what I’m doing now. It’s not always front-of-mind, understand, but the Need peeps out hundreds of times a day. So many things make me think of the stuff…so many memories, so many old haunts, so many desires. And that constant gnawing craving I just can’t shake. I’ve come to like that feeling, a little, because it’s a reminder that I’m still clean, but that’s also like welcoming a headache because it means I’m not dead.
Thank God I’m not trying to lose weight. I hear that’s brutal.