Poppy Junkie, here. Only me. Only person I know who would eat poppy seed buns, roast poppy seeds for salad toppings and shake them out of her bra after a day of slaving over the stove (my boobs are a shelf – they catch strays) …. right before a random drug screening for admittance into Intensive Outpatient Treatment for alcohol.
Needless to say, I tested positive for Opiates. I was just as confused as the now skeptical assessor. I asked if it could be my meds and she says in a tone that only kindergarteners would understand, “No, dear. Abilify doesn’t test positive for opiates.”
I get home 5 hours later, only to see remnants of the harvest fest extravaganza I cooked up this weekend, complete with pumpkin seeds, chickpeas and poppy. A light went off.
Yup. Now I just look like a heroin-addicted fraud, coming in, pretending save her life from the grips of ‘alcohol’ so she doesn’t have to go to rehab. Even if I did admit to my latest meal, there’s no chance they’d believe me.
Hate to start off a good thing in a lie that I didn’t even commit. You know the feeling. You walk into a store, innocent and oblivious as fuck and an employee gets the green light to follow you around because it happens to be a sunny day and you’re wearing sunglasses. Suddenly, every move you make is racked with guilt and panic sets in until you can’t stand the pressure and bolt for the door. You know the drill.
If that isn’t bad enough, and although there were many reasons beyond my control, I stopped going to Intensive Outpatient Treatment last year because the night before a session, I downed a Margarita pizza and I was afraid of testing positive. Not that it mattered, it’s not like I was court-ordered.
Despite my test results, they let me in and waived the ship to rehab.
Here we go! Oh this is going to be a hoot. I have to take a hike home from my treatment 3x per week and each walk is an hour. Better be worth it.
If it is, these lungs aren’t going to be the only thing smokin’ hot in 2-3 months!