So, suboxone is marketed as something that can supress cravings. The part they don’t tell you, is that it numbs your emotions significantly.

So for 10 years, I thought that how I felt was normal. But as soon as I stopped taking suboxone, I realised what had been going on. It’s sneaky in a way. It happens so gradually so you don’t notice the slow erosion of the highs and lows of life.

The first 3 months were incredible. Making music felt unreal. Really anything to do with music was unreal. Waves and waves of the happy head tingles (I don’t know the proper term). Everything felt amazing, because you know, I could actually feel things again. Socialising, gym, pretty much everything positive was amplified by 10.

But that wasn’t going to last forever because the highs have to come with lows.

All the things I’d been ignoring, all the things I thought I was ok with hit real hard.

Imagine a decade of life experiences condensed into the space of say, 6 months.

It’s overwhelming.

I realised that I’d effectively isolated myself from the world, thinking that it was fine and it didn’t bother me because I was content in my little numb bubble. Then came the regrets of the wasted time. Not just about my old life, but the 10 years of the half life I’d been living that were in the rearview mirror.

In the last 12 months, I’ve had a couple of significant health scares, work issues, problems with maintaining friendships etc.

No cravings even at my lowest. And I know for a fact that if certain things had happened back in my old life, I would have snapped and gone on an insane bender.

I’m glad I stopped taking the stuff, don’t get me wrong, I just wish the doctor that was prescribing it had been a lot more upfront about the impact it would have long term.

But like I said yesterday, the stats for people who stop taking it are fucking grim, so I’m guessing the medical literature indicates that it’s better that people never stop taking it.

I think the reason I’ve succeeded at this whole thing in general, is that I don’t have a safety net, so I have to be my own. In the back of my mind at all times, I know that if I fail, there’s no rescue.

I’ve made the choice to give up the black cat to ensure that he has someone reliable to care for him. He deserves every bit of the same love and effort Melbcat got but it’s such a big commitment to foster or adopt right now and I don’t have it left in my tank.

It breaks my heart. I was picking out names for him, trying to think how I’d make it through the long repetitive work of ringworm treatment and planning to buy him a funny mushroom themed scratcher to celebrate when it was over. But I really can’t take a new pet on right now and need to make sure he goes to someone who is reliably able to care for him.

I hung out with him under cover feeding him and patting him during the storm, and he was asking to come in the house… Poor little man :( I hope he finds somewhere absolutely perfect for him and experiences all the joys of inside there. I love him too. I’m just not ready for him (or anyone) to take Melbcat’s place or to take on the responsibility. I never did manage to find out if he even has a microchip or his ‘owners’ are still around.

I’m definitely going to second guess this and fret about how he’s doing, whether he’s going to be adopted, wishing things had been different. I’m scared because shelters and rescues are so full and he has a few things going against him for adoptability. I won’t know where he is or be able to protect him.

But there’s a chance that this way he’ll end up getting a much better life than living on scraps of food and affection outside or living with someone who is so completely overwhelmed and not coping. I’m just trying to remember that the rescuers love cats to the point of going the extra mile like I do, and trust that his future owner sees how sweet and friendly he is the way I did.

Rescuers are coming either tonight or tomorrow to get him. I just hope he’s around.