I think I'm moving south, to the Bay Area.

My parents called today, worried -- apparently my brother decided to tell them about my recent suicidal entries. I'd already told them that I was doing heroin and that I wasn't doing very well, but whatever he told them was enough to make them a lot more worried. We talked about various options -- they tried to convince me to move back there, which is something I've tried so many times and I know I just cannot stand it. My mother also offered to come out here for a week to try to help me find a good therapist and jump-start my life, which would help, because I've been so depressed and zombie-like lately.

My goal is to get a Naltrexone implant. Naltrexone is a drug that blocks heroin (or any opiate), the same drug they give you when you OD. They can implant it under your skin. It lasts six months, and during that time, if you shoot up, you can't feel it.

I remember hearing about this implant in the past, on addiction message boards, and from various counselors, but at the time I wasn't interested. I still had a hard time accepting that I should *never* do heroin -- I couldn't let go of the chance to feel that rush. But now that I am interested in the implant, I can't find any information about how to get it. If you know anything about it, please email me. Donna has been researching it and has had a really hard time. She found a place in Virginia that does it, but there must be someplace closer to home. Getting that implant would be such a relief. Doing heroin would be, simply, impossible.

So as soon as I can figure out how to get that, I can move back into Donna's house, because then we'll all *know* that I'm clean. But I'm not sure anymore that I want to live there -- it's a complicated situation that I can't really go into here. Part of it is that living with so many cats makes my skin break out really bad, worse than in high school. I'm not sure how many fewer cats there would have to be to alleviate that problem. But is bad skin a big enough issue to forfeit living with Donna? There's other stuff, too... I guess I don't have to worry about that decision until I'm actually clean.

So after talking to my parents for a while, I was wondering, why am I here, anyway? My job is wonderful, but my manager makes me miserable and I'm not getting enough hours. I can't live with Donna and I barely ever see her. And even if I got clean and could move back in, I don't even know if I want to.

We only see each other about once a week now. I was afraid it would be like this, and it makes me really sad. We aren't busy, and we have the time to see each other every day, but somehow it never quite happens. Donna is just one of those people where if you don't live with her, it's hard to pin her down. (I'm one of those people too, but a bit less than Donna.) Also, spending time with me is not exactly a break from the stress of the rest of her life, whether I'm high, trying to stay clean but shaking with anxiety, or depressed and crying.

I've been trying to figure out what went wrong, and here it is: When I was living with her I was happy; we were both happy; the situation was mutually beneficial. If I had been able to continue living with her, I could have made more friends and made a healthy life for myself, and had a support system in case she became unavailable. But unfortunately, I used heroin a few times, then a few times more. Even though I was only using once a week and wanted to stop completely again, the house had a zero tolerance policy and I didn't want to lie, so I moved out.

Once I didn't live there, of course I ended up using heroin more, went from seeing Donna 24/7 to once a week, got more depressed, and now I'm in no state to make new friends, and have nothing to replace what Donna used to provide, just when I need it the most. When I had the chance, I never created a support system that would carry me when I needed help. Then I had to leave the only support I had, and now that I need help, I'm unable to get it because I'm too depressed and I can barely function. Everything worked out like a Chinese finger trap, so the further we go, the worse it gets, the less chance I have of getting better, the less we see each other, and so on.

I'm so depressed that I can't even enjoy my favorite city; I barely see my best friend; the only thing that breaks the misery is doing heroin; I have less motivation to be clean than almost any other time in my life. I can't even work towards the goal of living with Donna again, because even if I were clean, the situation at her house is untenable for other reasons.

So all this leaves me wondering why I'm in Portland. And I can't think of many reasons, and I *can* think of a lot of reasons why I *shouldn't* be here. My friend Dan is still totally open to me staying with him in Oakland, and my cousin Liza lives just a few blocks from him. When I was visiting Brian, I fell in love with San Francisco all over again, so I'm excited at the chance to go back. Taking BART into the city a few times a week will be so good for my spirit. Sitting at Cafe Trieste last week, I felt happier than I've felt in weeks. There's an energy in that city that I love, that I really need right now.

I'm going to give 2 weeks notice at my job, but Natacha has cut my hours so much, I have a feeling she'll just let me leave. So I might just take the bus down to Oakland next week. Or hitchhike. I'll spend a few weeks there, and I'm sure staying clean will make my depression lift somewhat. Then I can decide if I want to stay there or not.