Dishonesty

I went to the NA meeting, and was the only person there that didn't speak. It wasn't that I had nothing to say, I just was afraid to say it. That doesn't really happen often for me. I generally am able to speak up and say what's on my mind. But somehow I just clam up at NA and AA, I guess because I never shot heroin or did crack or coke or most of those other narcotics, I never sold my mom's jewelry for a fix. But I do get a lot from hearing them talk, and I'm going through so much of the same stuff. It's just difficult to open up there, despite how open and nice the people are. After the meeting I hung out with a few of them for a while, but I got super anxious and left.

Tomorrow morning I get to go to group again. Because I skipped it today it feels a little awkward, but at least it's just the morning group. Or wait, no it isn't, it's also the substance abuse group. That's going to be a trigger for sure, both for anxiety and for wanting to drink or get high.

I'm so upset by the required urinalysis. I don't want to have to do that, and I may have to twice a week. It's very telling that it upsets me, though. I'm trying to be sober, it should be a good thing, they're keeping me honest. But that's just it, on the half full side I guess what bothers me about it is that I don't like being thought of as untrustworthy. If there's anything that causes me to rage, and I've thought about that a lot, it's when I'm treated as the things I've always been called.

Airhead
Irresponsible
Untrustworthy
Unappreciative

Even (or especially) when it's true, those labels make me so blindingly upset I can't handle myself rationally. I have to show my student ID every time I enter my own home, and that really bothers me because it makes me feel untrustworthy. I've been called those things so many times, I can't even write about it without feeling the need to go smoke.

The less pretty side of why I'm so bothered by requisite urinalysis is that it feels safe to be able to lie, to not have forced honesty. What's the big deal with a little drug use? What's the big deal if I slip and drink a little? Sometimes I just need it, and I don't need to be judged for it! That's the little voice in my head, the one that says I'm special, that they won't understand, that I don't have a problem and I can handle mild usage and it won't hurt, that it will just loosen me up and actually help me.

I have to face the truth. I am untrustworthy, and they need absolute honesty on whether I'm using, which they can only get through drug screening. The fact that I've built up such explosively negative emotions around being thought of as untrustworthy or irresponsible makes it much harder to accept. I've spent so much of my life trying so hard to prove my dad wrong about me, especially when he calls me an airhead, which was one of his favorites. That one bothers me the most because it's the most blatantly disrespectful of me and plainly wrong. I'm the opposite of an airhead, if there is one. I always have way too much going on in there - I'm only ever absent minded when I'm high, and that's a fantastic relief for me.

I'm not able to commit to staying clean for the duration of my time at columbia, much less the rest of my life. I can't imagine always being sober, forever. I think of all of my treatment as just a temporary roadblock in my ultimate goal of being able to use responsibly. I don't know if roadblock is the right word, because I do acknowledge treatment as being necessary to that goal. That's all so unrealistic anyway. Using is inherently irresponsible, I'm an addict, I can't use in moderation. If I use at all, if I allow drugs to be my crutch, then I'm cutting off my own legs. And I don't want to be on crutches for the rest of my life, I want to walk on my own.

It's just so much easier to disappear into drug use, and I can accomplish so much when I'm using, I really did do so much work. But I was so unhappy, it so wasn't worth the cost, and I don't think I have it in me anymore. I don't have the same panic-driven burning engine that pushes me through the night to prove myself to everyone. That was a horrible time of my life and it sickens me to remember that feeling, that need to perform.

Change, change change. Too much of it, all the time. Seven years ago I was 15. Six years ago I was 16. Four years ago I was 18. Two years ago I was 20. Last year I was 21. This year I'm 22. I've lived so many lives in seven years! My brain hurts.