Friday, July 2, 2010

Goodbye Letter to my Drug

This letter was composed by Donna, one of our patients who has successfully detoxed.

GOODBYE LETTER TO MY DRUG


Goodbye Xanax, you rotten, low, insidious, miserable pill,
how you  must have enjoyed watching me sink
deeper into depression, and become very ill.
I didn't know you were in a relationship with the devil.

You must have smiled with glee
 as your absorption took place at the cellular level.
No one warned me about this rather unknown response,
so mean,
As you built tolerance in deep layers over years of innocent dreams.

Oh, you gave a good nights sleep you see, that was the ruse.
It was your way of making sure I would always use.

You messed with my brain, I thought you only helped me to sleep.
When, in fact, you dulled all emotions, my joy, my very presence, any thoughts deep.
Over the years, unknown to the cognitive me, you crept.
Deeper into my brain, taking away strength and health as I slept.

Oh, you heightened me up at times, so I could feel pain.
Driving me to seek a drug called Norco to find relief again.
This I repeated three to four times a day.
While you continued to wash my self will away.

Into the pit of depression, I continued to fall,
You were happy to contribute, you were having a ball.
All the while, I lay in bed sleeping twelve to fourteen hours away.
Becoming numb to all sensation, and don't care if I see another day.
You did nothing to stop me feeling this dreaded gray.
Oh no, you couldn't, nor wouldn't stop your play.
It took an intervention, and a family who cared.
To seek help for this body and mine so - so impaired.

But you weren't done, you weren't about to leave so soon,
You stubbornly held affixed to my pleasure sites in the detox room.
As you were fed no more, you caused my body to shake and agitate.
I lay in tremulous agony, crying, you did nothing to help my state,
Not wanting to leave, you resisted for days and days, more then eight.
You wouldn't allow sleep, oh that would be a reprieve,
And you weren't about to allow comfort, if you had to leave.

You fought hard, but my self will began to emerge, where it belonged,
And little, by little, the old Donna arose to fight, first weak, than strong.
But you're not done, you buried in my memory, the peaceful sleep I gained.
Your hoping I'll remember, weaken, and begin to use again.
So on the nights, I struggle, to fall fast asleep,
I'll replace you with meditation, and breathing that is deep.
Where you once took away my gratitude's, and replace them with fears,
Now you are helpless, I've replaced you through many shedding tears.
never do I want to go through the agony of retreat,
You are done, you are sin, I wash you down the drain that goes out to the street.





3 comments:

  1. I am just getting ready to enter Hemet Recovery Center....This poem just made me cry and cry and cry!! Oh my goodness, very good and inspiring poem! I still yet have the 'detox' to go through, and my problem has been oxy-contin. I'm going into the chronic pain program and am so anxious just to be clean off of everything and be able to think clearly again and address some issues, that so desparately need to be addressed!! Thank you for this poem...although my problem is a different pill, I'm sure the grips of dependence and addiction are all the same...

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  2. So funny! but there are some true points made! Farewell Letters

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