Getting There

OK, so I just woke up from a dream in which I was writing about an experience I had posted about back in January 2024. In the dream, I had very vivid imagery of what addiction is like. I remember writing “spinley claws” and trying to figure out the right way to verbalize that it’s not like claws—it’s like hands. Hands with claws. Hands that can grip and closet.

I don’t even know. It’s very difficult to get it to let go, to move on from it.

I recently relapsed, probably about a month ago now. I was living with somebody I thought was my friend. I moved out there back in August—I think it was July. It was quite a while ago. Either way, during that relapse, I had another dark moment. I found myself contemplating the $155 I had in my bank account and whether or not it would be enough to get me a hotel room—and what I was gonna do when I got that hotel room.

Of course, he interjected again, as he always does. Bubba came up to me and showed me his eyes. His eyes.

I can’t let them go. Hiding right now, I think he can feel the emotion that’s coming out of me as I type this out to you. It changed me that time. I think it opened up something new for me.

I spent two weeks working my ass off to earn money and get out of there. I even called family and started to make amends. That’s gonna be a process that goes on for a long time—a process I’ve been doing for over a year now. They still don’t trust me like they used to, and I don’t blame them. But in that moment, I realized that he is counting on me in a way that nobody has ever counted on me before.

I’ve done nothing but let him down. I’ve done nothing but drop the ball. And if it’s somehow possible to drop it without picking it up again, I’ve done that over and over.

What I realized was that I have to pick up that ball. And pick it up. And pick it up. And pick it up. For him. And for myself. But it’s really hard to justify doing it for myself when, for so long, myself hasn’t been worth anything. It’s hard to find that value again—really hard. So I’m using him. I know it’s a crutch, but I’m using him as my point of value.

I’m in a shelter right now. I can’t really go into much detail about that. He’s with me. He’s only got so many days until he has to move out. They seem to think that they can hold me indefinitely—at least, that’s what it seems like. I have a plan and steps in place to get out, but it’s gonna take some time, unfortunately.

As with anything in life, you know, if somebody were sitting here right now, they’d say, “Anything worth fighting for, anything worth doing, is going to take time and energy,” right?

I think I’m more clear now than I’ve ever been before. Before that relapse. Before when I went through treatment. I mean, to be quite honest, when I went through treatment, I knew I was gonna use again. I knew I would be down that path again.

And right now, I don’t have that feeling. I don’t feel like using. I don’t feel the urge. Even thinking about it—it feels empty. Or at least, emptier. It doesn’t have that draw anymore. I can’t predict the future, or at least I can’t tap into that ability right now, but I don’t see myself using again. At least not for a long time from now. A long, long time.

It’s refreshing. It’s also scary. It was such an easy decision all the time. It was so very easy. It didn’t even really take that much thinking or convincing, often. Sometimes, it was just autopilot. And they’ll talk about that in treatment—you just go through the motions, and it’s there, ready for you.

Is it any wonder how anyone can dig themselves out of that? The instantaneous feel-good feeling it brings. Curling into a ball, that darkness that you’re trying to escape from.

What I realized in that moment, when I looked into his eyes, was that all that darkness, all that pain I was running from—I was just putting that on him. I looked around where we were at the time, and it was a manifestation of all of that. All that pain and suffering and darkness and torment that I was going through—it was just a manifestation of that in the form of neglect of habitat.

I recently started writing a blog post about my journey out there at night. It’s so hard to write. So hard to keep going. I think I got two paragraphs into it and had to stop. Fortunately, I’m doing speech-to-text, so it’s just like talking to somebody who isn’t here.

But I think it’s important for me to somehow process everything that I’ve been through.

I’ll come back to it.

For now, though, I really wanted to get this out into the open and just let people know that, like—I’ve been gone for some time. I’m back. I woke up and found myself in a really deep hole.

For the past couple weeks, I’ve been digging myself out of that hole. If somebody could throw me, you know, a carabiner or some rope, it would go a long way. And I would make damn sure it would go a long way.

It’s gonna be difficult. And it’s gonna be a long road. But through all of it, I’ll have him. And I know that. Because he’s proven that every step of the way.

He’s been there for me through thick and thin. He’s been there for me through my darkest moments.

He’s seen the light the whole time.

I know he has. Cats have that ability.

He says right now isn’t easy for him, but I know he holds onto me just as much as I hold onto him.

We’ve got this together.

We’ll get there.