I am 27 years old and I just got completely off methadone after being on it for two and a half years. I'll start with a quick synopsis of my drug history. I got drunk on weekends in high school, like 95% of people in my class. I first tried pot in college at 18, and promptly became a pothead. From there I tried whatever I came across, and going to a 'party' college like Arizona State, that meant everything, from mushrooms, acid, cocaine, crystal meth, ecstasy, morphine tablets, xanax, and at age 20, black tar heroin.

I always figured myself strong enough to handle it, and back then, I could. I smoked heroin and I loved it; but I went away for the summer and lost my connection. So I finished college, smoked pot for a couple years, until someone who knew someone brought heroin back in the limelight. This time I wasn't so lucky. I became addicted, and thus began the downward spiral. I never shot up; I just 'chased the dragon' as they say. However, I was no less addicted and soon began supplementing my habit with crystal meth to provide more of the rush that soon disappeared from the heroin once I got hooked.

At age 24 I got on methadone, mainly to stave off the withdrawal symptoms for when I had trouble scoring, i.e. insurance. That was its only purpose. I still continued to use. And so it went, countless thousands of dollars literally up in smoke, until I lost everything – my job (late one too many times from trying to squeeze in that last hit), my girlfriend of 5 years, my apartment (lease ending) and car (a graduation present, a 3-year lease that was meant to see me through to a good job). With everything of value long since pawned, I knew it was time to call it quits. I had to tell my father, living in another state, the situation. I had hidden my addiction well to my family, I suppose too well. Telling him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. He agreed to take me in, and so I moved across the country, to start over. I was 25.

I began the healing, started at a new clinic, my dose at 70mg as it had been since I began on methadone. I gained about 80 pounds in about 8 months, no crystal meth and no 10-hour waiter shifts had a big part to play. I got a good job; I lived with my parents for a year, saved some money, and got an apartment. I escaped heroin, but I wasn't off my leash yet. I hated this new clinic, such bureaucratic red tape, every single day the wait to dose was well over an hour. Last April I began a slow detox, going down 1mg a week, then 2mg in July. I dropped down to about 35mg and didn't notice a thing.

Then something happened. I met a girl. A girl who made me think about a future, a future with marriage, kids, and happiness. All of a sudden I had something outside of myself driving me. I despised myself for being tied to methadone. The red tape became worse. On top of the six dollars a day to dose, I was paying other methadone patients 15-20 dollars a day to trade spots in line, so that I wouldn't 't lose my job for being late. An hour, hour and a half a day, every day. That is an injustice; there is no reason for it. I didn't want to explain to my new girlfriend where I went in the morning on weekends. I wanted it in past. I was going to make it happen, and quickly. I was on 35mg.

I gave myself seven days. With five days left, I felt the first shadow of withdrawal. It was just in my head. Sheer willpower, I told myself. I will do this with sheer willpower. I went the week. My last dose at the clinic was Friday, October 4th.

A friend who was prescribed methadone for a car accident he was in gave me what was left of his prescription, 8 5mg tabs. I took two on Saturday, a one each day until they were gone. My first day not going to the clinic was rough. I woke up and told my girlfriend, 'I have to go...I just have to.' She held me tightly in bed and didn't let go. 'You can do this, you can.' Between her support and the tabs from my friend, I was released from the clinic. I was de-institutionalized. I was free. Now came the hard part. I worked that first week, since I still had those tabs. But I didn't feel quite right.

The next weekend, the real sickness part began. My stomach would not settle down. Diarrhea, I wouldn't even call it that. It just came out pure liquid, and I must have gone 15 times a day. Yuck. My legs ached tremendously. I was sneezing all over the place seven, eight sneezes at a time. The mental part kicked in too. My eyes felt sore; they felt too sensitive. There was too much information coming in. I felt extremely lethargic, and everywhere I looked I saw death and decay. All of a sudden all the everyday activities that make life 'normal' became a chore. Everything felt like a test. I lost the strength to go on. I took about a week off from work.

The one thing that helped, the one thing that could help, was pot. I understood why it is recommended to cancer patients and such, it really makes you forget about feeling sick. But this was not the way to go. I quickly developed a taste it, and I realized that without the methadone, my cravings had returned. Not necessarily just for opiates, but for anything that would make me feel something.

This is the dangerous part with stopping methadone, I realize that now. It is not an overstated danger. I know now that I will always have those cravings, probably for the rest of my life. That's the price of heroin addiction. It might be pot, it might be alcohol, or any number of other things, but as far as the cravings go, its ALL heroin. No more casual use, no more moderation. I'm still very much coping with this. So, I went back to work. The physical withdrawal was fading, all except the diarrhea, but the mental was very much there.

I was on week three off of methadone. I was prescribed a Clonidine patch (lowers blood pressure), lorazepam (to help me sleep), and an anti-diarrehal. I stopped working. I filed a short-term disability. I told my work it was for depression, which it was, but I knew they were talking. I told them yesterday it was for methadone withdrawal. I didn't go into what got me on methadone, though. But I do feel better that I don't have to hide it from them. So that brings it up to speed.

My girlfriend has stuck by me, although she misses the guy she knew those first couple weeks. I promise her I'll be that guy again, soon. But honestly, I don't know. I'm now on four and 1/2 weeks, and I just feel mentally lost. It's like waking up from a long sleep. My head still feels very sensitive. I keep telling myself to do something, exercise, read, do something productive. But the mental funk just keeps going on and on. I know I'm getting better, but it is such a slow going that I can barely notice. The only solace is when I look at the big picture. Then I get a big smile on my face. I am off methadone for the rest of my life. That is a huge feat. Granted, going from 35mg to zero in one week is not the easiest way, but I am here to tell you it can be done.

For me, it took moving to a new city, removing myself completely from the situation I was in. I was very lucky, having a strong family, girlfriend, and job made all the difference. I'm still not where I want to be, but I'm far away enough from where I was that I can look back and know I made a huge accomplishment in getting off methadone (in a big hurry, no less!). I would recommend to anybody to just go down 1mg a week. I assure you it will be cake compared to 35mg in one week! Be warned though. I am still out of work for a couple weeks as I try to get my head together. Like I said, physical pain is one thing, but the mental is so much more. I honestly feel like I am trying to learn how to live again. It's hard not to get extremely depressed...the urge to take something has so much more of a presence than it ever did before. How do you cope? I'm still very much working on that part. Thank you for reading this, and I sincerely wish all of you the best of luck.

Jason