Relapse?

About a month ago, my partner went to our doctor complaining of headaches, and the doc asked if she needed her to prescribe something for the pain. She refused, and told me about it later. She said she was surprised that the doc would suggest pain meds when she knows that's her drug of choice.

Then, Friday, she went back to the doctor with chest pains. I asked her to ask the doc about the last incident, and she did. The doctor told her that she would have prescribed a non-narcotic. THEN, the doctor offered to write her a scrip for the chest pain, which is apparently the result of an enlarged chest cavity, but NOT heart related. She went home with a prescription for Topomax.

That night, I went researching Topomax, and found out that it's an Opiod, which is the same thing as the Suboxone she had such a hard time coming off of. What I read said that it works the same way and that it can be addictive. So, of course, I started obsessing. I told her what my concerns were, like the difficulty she'd had coming off of her last opiod and the possiblity that taking this would "wake her tiger", and then I really let it go.

Today, she left work early to go home for her pain pills, and then was going to drive to therapy. I asked if she was supposed to drive while taking them. She said that she was supposed to wait to see how they affected her before driving. I told her that impaired people usually don't realize that they're impaired and she decided to go home.

I went to our couple appointment alone. The therapist was concerned about her having the prescription, and suggested that I hold the medication for her and suggest that she talk to her sponsor and her other therapist, who works in drug treatment. He also told me to ask her to count the pills with me. When I told her what the therapist said, she first said that his advice was bad for me because it was feeding my codependency. Then she told me that she has taken more than the prescribed dosage for the last 3 days, by taking 3 pills in the morning instead of 2. She said that she might as well go out and drink, b/c she was gonna have to pick up a white chip. She went through all kinds of rationalization with herself about whether or not it was a relapse, and told me that she knew she was rationalizing. I mostly just let her talk and reflected back for her.

She told me that she would talk to her sponsor, but that she wasn't willing to let me hold the pills. I told her that I'd need to talk to my sponsor and figure out what I needed to do to take care of myself, but that probably I'd find somewhere else to spend the night if she wanted to keep the pills and I'd see her tomorrow. I told her that I could live with one of 3 options- either I'd hold the pills for her and we could talk to her therapist tomorrow or she could call the therapist tonight or I'd find somewhere else to stay the night and she could keep the pills.

The confusing part for me is that she's actually right. Me being involved in her pills is a dangerous place for me to be with MY disease. But the therapist was right, too. I really didn't think that she was already taking more than prescribed, and if I hadn't followed his suggestion, I wouldn't have known about it and it probably would have escalated.

I don't know. Are any or all of us (me/partner/therapist) making a bigger deal of this than it really is? Or are any or all of us minimizing and rationalizing, and it's really a bigger deal? Should I worry about yet another doctor feeding her addiction? Right now, I feel pretty good about where we are with it for now. Stay tuned.

The end of my reading diet

Today I'm officially going off of my diet. I didn't do it perfectly, but I did do it. I guess it was an exercize in progress, not perfection. There were some gifts along the way. Like when I had agreed to meet a friend in a bookstore before I knew that I'd be on a reading diet. I walked around looking at peoople instead of books, and I saw a little girl who had found a book shaped like a treasure box. She was thrilled, and told her mother that she found treasure! Cute. I didn't do all the things I thought I'd get done when I wasn't reading. I didn't connect with people in the way that I planned. If you didn't get a phone call from me, know that I didn't call anyone else either. Overall, I'm glad for the experience, and now I'm glad I'm done. Now it's off to read my friends' blogs and then I'm going to the library.

Obsessing

3:30 am, and I'm obsessing about narcotics. I had oral surgery yesterday, which meant a prescription for narcotic pain medicine, my partner's drug of choice. I obsessed over whether to have the scrip filled, whether to discuss it with her, and what to do with the meds. I decided to fill it, not to discuss it but not to lie about it either. I won't say where I'm keeping it, in case she's found her way here.

Now I'm obsessing over what to do with the leftovers. I know that really, my only option is to trash them. I need to let go of them physically, and then I need to let go of the resentment that goes along with having no option except to trash them. I don't like the feelings that this is bringing up for me. I keep fighting with myself over putting my ugly feelings out there. My partner didn't choose this disease of addiction. If/when I find myself in pain again, I can go to the doctor and get another prescription. Throwing away a $10 bottle is really not a big deal. But it feels like a big deal to me. I'm just making myself crazier here, so I'm going to stop and try something else.

My Own F#%*ing Hallmark Card

One of my tasks for the Artist's Way has been to go on an Artist's Date once a week. It doesn't really matter what I do, but I only take me. Wednesday, I was having a particularly hard day, and I decided to take me to the Hallmark store, and buy myself my own hallmark card.

Part of the backstory is that A had shared a story about stomping on somebody's boundaries in a group she was participating in, literally, by stomping on something the other person had made with clay. She decided to make amends by making a similar item out of clay and by buying her a hallmark card as an apology. She took me with her to pick out the hallmark card. Meanwhile, she'd been trouncing all over my boundaries, too, and I expressed to somebody else that I want a fucking hallmark card. Of course, I didn't tell A that she'd trounced my boundaries, let alone that I'd have appreciated getting my own card.

Anyway, fast forward to Wednesday, when my boundaries had been repeatedly trounced, which had resulted in my screaming, and I still wasn't getting my needs met. I decided to go to the Hallmark store and pick out a card from me to me. Here's what it said:

I have a right to be accepted just as I am. I have a right to be heard, because I matter. I have a right to be respected, because I deserve it. I have a right to be loved...... And you are.

And here's what I wrote inside:

Dear me,

You do have a right to be accepted. And I accept all of you and your perfectly imperfect self. You do have a right to be heard. And I will listen to you. And I will hear you. And I will give you a voice, even when it's hard. Because you DO MATTER!! You do have a right to be respected. And I will respect you. And I will stand up for you. And I will stop accepting unacceptable behavior. Because I do deserve more. I have a right to be loved. And Iam. And I'll do a better job of loving me. I'm really, really good at unconditional love, except where you're concerned. So I'm truly sorry for not taking good care of you. And I intend to amend that behavior. I love you, (insert name here), forever. NO MATTER WHAT!!! Love, me.

I SCREAMED

It was a week ago today that I screamed, and my voice is still broken. I almost never raise my voice and I don't think I've ever screamed like this. I'd tried all the tools in my toolbox and I still wasn't being heard. I'd been being rational in the face of irrationality and I'd pushed me down and down and down, hoping that eventually I'd get a turn and I'd be heard, but nothing was working. So I screamed. I wish I could say that it worked, and that I got what I needed. It was 3 days after that that I finally felt like I was heard by my significant other. But here's the amazing part. I was apparently heard by ME. Go figure. And good stuff has come from that.

Declaring my Intention: Reading Diet

Given the fact that many of you are like me who assumes when somebody disappears that I did something to make them go, I am declaring my intention.

Some of you may know that along with my 36 steps, I've now picked up a tradition study (thank you, Scout) and now a group book study of The Artist's Way. Our task this week is to go on a 1 week reading deprivation. I'm not willing to do a total deprivation, but I will try to do a week's worth of Reading Diet. I'm supposed to spend a week not reading anything. That's supposed to include the newspaper, work or school related readings. I guess the concept is that I'm supposed to free up time and fill it creatively. My intention is to give up reading blogs for a week along with books and any other print. I'm not planning on giving up email, so you can reach me that way if you want. I hope I'm going to increase my writing during this time, so hopefully you'll see me return to writing here. Since I'm choosing not to give up email, I'll get comments and I'll write back if I know your email addy. (Look at me, breaking a rule. JW, are ya proud?) I'd like to spend more time on the phone this week, so if I have your phone number, don't be surprised if you get a call this week.

more truth about lying

So I went to write today and realized that the last time I wrote I was struggling with the same exact issue that I'm struggling with today. Today, my partner was again too sick to go to work but not too sick to go to therapy. But today, we both handled it better. I owned my feelings with her and then let them go. And she came home tonight and apologized to me. She told me that she did have a stomachache this morning but that she wasn't too sick to go to work. She also acknowledged that she'd lied to me last night when she told me she had rememembered a promise she'd made to me. Her therapist had worked through a relapse symptoms list with her, and she asked me to fill it out too. She owned her shit. She said that she's not using, but that she's just hanging on. And then she talked to me about the effects that she imagined her behaviors were having on me. She told me that she imagined I was feeling unimportant and unloved. All of this came without prompting from me. Then she took herself to a meeting.

It helps when she comes to me in honesty. It helps that she's writing her own relapse prevention plan. It helps that she took herself to a meeting. It helps that she's acknowledging the effects of her behavior on me.

Here's the scary of today. Part of her plan includes whether she's willing to go to treatment if she does end up relapsing. She has told me that she's jealous of people who got to go to inpatient treatment. For her, it's not a deterrent, it's an attraction. I've already got dollar signs and being left home with all the responsibilities in my head. Am I projecting? Yep. Is it realistic? Prolly. Is there anything I can do? Nope.

Anyway, that's where I am today.