Got a bit cocky and didn't take my anti-psychotic last night. I felt good and thought I could do without. Woke up this morning with a minor case of the dry heaves. Used to plague me when I was drinking. I'd open my eyes and know that in getting vertical I would lose my stomach lining. Every morning in life. Through up in my hankie this morning. Got a bit worried, I believe that my guts are directly connected to my state of mind so I took the anti-psychotic this morning. Had a shower and some porridge and felt well. Was evening cracking jokes with my parents at the breakfast table. Visited a friend from my past. He has been clean for years and has his shit together in a big way. His partner is a drug and alcohol councillor and they have both been giving me a lot of support.
He lives on one of the islands so I got the ferry over and he met me. We had a look at a property he is developing and went to get something to eat. As we talked about scoring smack “just the once” the snakes started eating me alive. He said I couldn't think that “just once” would be all right. I'd be back to square one within a week if I did. The snake fuckers coiled tighter and tighter, the worst I have felt since detox. Ate as much as I could while just holding on waiting for the moment to pass. Tried to walk the snakes away on the beach and it did help. Went back to his place and lay flat out on his sofa. The snakes retreated but my back started to nip, a dull ache I've had since school boy rugby. Headed for the ferry and my back got worse and I started to feel uncomfortable in my skin. Minor withdrawal type uncomfortable in my skin. What the fuck? All because I took my anti-psychotic 8 hours late? No shit. Was it all in my head? Have I replaced smack with the doctors prescribed meds? Are they holding me together, holding a world of pain at bay? Is this real or psychosomatic?
Folks picked me up at the ferry and noticed that I wasn't walking right due to my back. Sat in the car and bounced between snakes in my belly and pain in my back. Mother suggested a pain killer and I was desperate so said ibuprofen might help. She gave me coproxamol. A fucking opiate! Truly the worst day since detox. Tried to lie down for half an hour as I was due to meet my brother for pool and a DVD but felt queasy within 10 minutes and had to get up. Mum offered the use of her bed and electric blanket as I was running a temperature and cold to the bone. Texted my brother to cancel and climbed into a warm bed. Out for a couple of hours and woke up with most of the symptoms gone, just a sort of queasy gut, like when you drink early in the day and it hangs on you. Like my gut was disconnected from me and at odds. Truly the worst day since detox. I held on and I'm coming round. Your correspondent is coming round. Fact that I'm writing this speaks volumes. Don't give a fuck how it works or what really caused today to be such a shitter, I'm taking that anti-psychotic tonight. Just hold on motherfucker.
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