February 20.... Day 8 of Suboxone; Seven days, and 12+ hours from my last oxycodone. Friday the 13th (I JUST noticed that date!), I missed my oxys all day. I didn't crave them; but, I did miss them. Saturday, I was so sick with precipitated withdrawals that all I could think about was getting better without being non-compliant by taking oxys or by taking more Suboxone than had been prescribed. Therefore, I didn't really miss my pills; I just wanted relief. Finally, I opted for an extra dose of Suboxone....

"I don't sell Suboxone," Dr. John told me. "I sell recovery."

I didn't doubt what he said for a minute. Every wall and flat surface in the office contained something proclaiming the philosophies of AA or NA. I felt safe.

"You're not a bad person. It wasn't you doing all those things to get the pills. Addiction is the closest thing to demonic posession that there is. I know what it's like. I'm in recovery."

I was crying hard...

I'm going to make a huge confession here and if I don't succeed, please just pretend that you never read it. Okay? But, don't worry because I must succeed. The only other option for me is to fall off the face of the earth. Sound dramatic? Well, maybe ... but that doesn't change the reality of the situation.

The end of February marks an important crossroads for this addict. Every scam that I have run in order to get pills has expired. My consumption will deplete my supply weeks before...

Thirty minutes ago, "blogging" seemed like a good idea. It's a recommended activity for people in recovery (not that I've gotten "recovery" yet). I would never consider keeping a journal about this nightmare, called addiction, because I can't risk someone finding it and finding out about me. Blogging here, however, should be safe. Now all that I need to do is to decide how to start it.

When I came to SR, I was not at the end of my rope, nearing rock bottom, ready...