So I got out of the psych ward about 10 days ago and it's been two weeks since I had any Prozac. I also have taken very few Klonopin since being released for sleep. The fluoxetine levels in my blood should be down to about 20mg from the 80mg that I was at when I last took a dose. That does it for the science for now.
I cannot believe how differently things look now compared to the 18th when Cari and I fought.
I really cannot believe how different they are from the 19th when I started eating benzodiazepine party mix on the 19th. Life seemed to be just too hard that night. I wanted to anesthetize myself without a license (or the proper substance, setting, or reason) and wake up to a different reality.
If only life were like that. Sleep and wake up to a reset. That won't happen with or without chemicals.
I feel like I have lost a year and a half and I have lost so much more with my family that I have to try to rebuild. I also feel like a new man. Much like I did in 1988 when I quit doing street drugs. Perhaps even more so because now I see my problem was more than what I was taking, it was why.
It wasn't how much I was taking (which then was considerable), but that I felt a need to find something to fill that void, to soothe that pain. In reality, it only added to the pain and made the void that much larger.
So for 21 years I have had what I call "slips", "hiccups", or "I stumbled" in my recovery when in reality I hadn't recovered at all. I only controlled it very well (most of the time).
I could usually point to some stressor to explain why I did it. Sometimes I didn't bother and I always promised "never again" would I let myself get into a position of...
It took a lot to break me down to this point and I am not even at the start line yet. I just got issued my bib number. So I am reflecting on what I have done this week since I started this blog as an outlet for my thoughts and feelings as I go through the process of becoming a recovering substance abuser (I can't limit it to alcohol even though the drugs were as prescribed for the most part.)
Wow! Just that statement causes me to think of the abuse my wife and children have been subjected to just in witnessing me all these years. I would venture to say that there is more than Caitlin's health issues behind the stress they feel each day.
Ok, I shouldn't add to my woe. Focus! Focus! One guilt trip at a time.
So what have I done this week to change? How am I better than two weeks ago?
Monday: Went to Psychology appointment and discussed how I was feeling after the weekend following my discharge. Felt great (Feeling even beter now) and discussed the follw-up plan for the short term future.
Tuesday: A.M. Went to my intake appointment for the Army Substance Abuse Program (ASAP). Learned a lot and got LOT'S of homework. Also needed to schedule a 'part 2' since I talk a lot (ok it was really because there were so many questions to answer). Really like the counselor I am working with. Very thorough and aware of a great many things to help in recovery that I would have never thought of asking about.
P.M Marriage Counseling through LDS Social services. Next week, I keep my mouth shut unless asked for something and let Cari talk. I didn't mean to control the conversation, I was just filling in the setting.
Wednesday: Went to Psychiatry to discuss same as above and begin assessing what, if any, meds I should be taking. Also discussed how fluoxetine is eliminated from my body and that I was fine not taking another pill unless we felt I needed to get back to a certain blood level. Also decided to be seen by the Psychiatrist that worked with me during my trip to the Ward.
Thursday: Went to Tacoma Human Services for a program that seems like an incentive to stick with treatment. It helps with everyday things other than treatment to support your efforts.
Friday: It was a beautiful day that threw me off track as I look back. I was feeling so good that I didn't check the schedule for AA meetings. I'm gonna catch it for that. I "self-medicated" with date night that I previously wrote about. Have to watch out for the dangers of feeling good. Wouldn't have thought a great day would sabotage my recovery.
Saturday: Didn't do a thing productive in any regard. A day wasted is a day well-spent!
Sunday: This day is my day of rest usually but of course, to me it belongs to the Lord. Today was spent in those pursuits. I file this under journaling so that my posterity (and the rest of the world) can read it.
All things considered, a week of activity but I have much to make up for as well. I need to get into the habit of setting goals for the week ahead and what I need to do to obtain them. Being a bit of a nut job all my life, I always made it up as I went along. No wonder I'm not a General yet (that and I'm not a college grad...yet)!
Ok, enough babble.
My week has been the best one I have had in a long time. I feel better than I have in two years at least as far as day to day is considered. Wonder what life will be like completely without anti-depressants and anxyiolitics? I truly hope to find out here in a couple of weeks.
So, as to the title. I picked that one because since being released I have felt phenomenal...except for a few exceptions. One glaring memory is that of just being overcome with everything as my mind started to clear and some horrible memories came back. I had been online writing I think and I was reminded of that Kenny Chesney song/video I posted "The Good Stuff" and I stopped and watched it.
That wiped out a streak for me. You see, I truly do seldom cry. I feel pain, sadness, remorse, guilt, anguish and any other feeling associated with crying you can think of. I mean I do have feelings contrary to popular opinion. But I seldom cry.
I call my Mom a duck. She doesn't show much emotion but I know she is feeling it. She takes it to the Lord I'm sure from advice she has given me, but I call her a duck for this reason; a duck is calm and serene on the top of the water, but kickin' like crazy beneath the surface.
That's me too.
So back to 'the good stuff'. As I watched that it brought back a flood of memories. Like my life flashing before my eyes in a sense of every horrible thing I have said or did to my wife particularly. I went over to her and gave her a hug and before I knew it I was bawling like the maternity ward.
The tears of years of emotion shoved aside to deal with the never ending stream of emergencies and situations, oh and combat, came out all at once. I couldn't stop wailing and sobbing for 15-20 minutes it seemed.
In the midst of this I let go of Cari and got down on my knees to pray and it just kept coming. A fountain of pent up guilt, frustration, and just plain blues, came flying out of me. Probably soaked the couch cushion!
So, Bob, I beg to differ. Maybe Boy's don't cry, but men do.
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