Cherybaby66

I relapsed tonight.

The pressure from the first night of IOP got to me. This man dredged up so much of my past; the domestic violence, the sexual assault I experienced at the hands of the man who beat me...so much. I took four percocet with the intention of numbing it...making it go away. I can't believe the things that this man was making me talk about. Things that I put away so long ago...all back in front of me, tearing down the nice safe walls I had put up for myself.

I was doing so well on my own. 102 days down the drain. All for nothing.

I should have never went into this program. I should have left well enough alone. Now I have nothing for all the hard work I have shown. Nothing. I worked my ass off for those 102 days. I did the work. I went to my meetings. I came here when I needed to. I got honest with my doctors, my family and myself. If I had known for a MINUTE that the intake was going to consist of pulling things up from so long ago, I would have avoided it like the plague.

I hate myself right now. I truly wish I were dead...I gave up my whole life in one moment of weakness. I was so proud of myself and the fact that I was able to stop cold turkey.

And now, tomorrow, on what should have been my first day of intensive outpatient therapy, I need to go let them know that my urine screen will be dirty because I used. No one is going to care that I just got through the hardest 3 months of my life...because all that matters is that I blew it.

I went from feeling on top of the world to feeling insignificant, small and stupid. It's a far fall from the pedastal I had just begun to put myself on. A hard, long fall. Four pills. Four f*cking pills just changed my life and put me back at square one.

It's almost ironic that, despite swallowing painkillers, I am in the worst pain of my entire life.

I told my husband. He held me, told me it will be alright...that tomorrow is a new day and at least I won't go through the horrors of withdrawal again. He doesn't get it. I don't expect him to. I would rather have the physical withdrawals all over again than the emotional pain I am experiencing right now.

I am embarassed and humiliated, filled with self loathing.

I made myself vomit. I thought, maybe if I could throw them up...then it really wouldn't count...wouldn't be a relapse and I could save my clean date. Interesting, the mind of an addict, isn't it?

So here I am...heart in my hands, throwing myself, once again...at the mercy of all of you. I don't know what to do with myself now. I don't want to go back to this program tomorrow because I feel like it put so much pressure on me that I caved. The intake was the hard part...I know that. The rest will all be group meetings and some individual counseling. I know what lies ahead...but I'm scared of it. For the first time in the longest time...I am actually afraid of being sober.

I was doing so well...so god damn well.

I wish I would have left well enough alone. And now, it's over. I can't stop crying...like I am mourning the loss of a beloved friend. I don't want to hear "tomorrow's another day". It isn't. It's day one all over again...a day I hoped to never revisit.

i just want to crawl into bed and die. i don't care if tomorrow never comes.

I have never felt more alone in my entire life.

I don't think I can forgive myself this time.