maggieruthless-blog
I’ve lost access to both my original blogs. I’m using this one to save some of those memories.
95 posts
Latest Posts by maggieruthless-blog
write first
Usually, I scroll through tumblr to look at what’s been posted since I last wrote. I do this with the intent of writing afterwards, but I never make it that far. I’m doing it backwards this time. Write first then reward myself with scrolling.
I’m here to catch up, I think. I still haven’t heard anything from APSU. I have not reason to panic for another 20 days. The application said acceptance letters would be sent out on or before June 15. I did find out that I have the necessary credits to graduate with my Associate in Science from VolState. I take my exit exams Tuesday. It will be so lovely to finally have something to show for the last 2.5 years. I can’t really achieve much with that degree but it’s imagine it still looks nice on your resume.
I picked up Layla (step daughter) after work today. We have her for the half of summer. She lied to me a few moments ago. I had to tell her to cut her TV off. The remorse in her voice is almost too much to bear. I see why Justin (husband) has a hard time disciplining her. I’m exited to have her this summer. She’s going to church camp and swimming lessons though so that will take some time from us.
Nancy and Jim are still together. They began paying for a ring. I can’t exactly tell who’s being distanct, me or her. I think it’s both but more heavily on me. I chose to stay with her through this. I need to make the effort to do that.
Justin starts a new job next week. He will be back on days. We are overjoyed. I just pray this job works out well. I hope he loves it and I hope they love him enough to take care of him if the buyout doesn’t end well.
I thought I had more to say.
“Every one says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive”
— C.S. Lewis
“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.”
— A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
“As far as I could see, life demanded skills I didn’t have.”
— Susanna Kaysen, Girl, Interrupted
“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”
— Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper
“I don’t think any of us can speak frankly about pain until we are no longer enduring it.”
— Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
“I’m not the person you left behind anymore. There’s no one here to miss.”
— Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
“Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?”
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Good and Evil
“The only meaningful thing we can offer one another is love. Not advice, not questions about our choices, not suggestions for the future, just love.”
— Glennon Melton, Carry On, Warrior
“There is always something left to love.”
— Lorraine Hansberry, A Raisin in the Sun
“You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.”
— A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.”
— Jane Austen, Jane Austen’s Letters
“That was the thing about secrets—you had to carry them with you forever, no matter what the cost.”
— Kass Morgan, The 100
“Go as far as you can see; when you get there, you’ll be able to see farther.”
— J.P. Morgan
“Sometimes all you can do is lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart.”
— William C. Hannan
“Never bend your head. Hold it high. Look the world straight in the eye.”
— Helen Keller
This Sunday, I share my story at church. I have 7 minutes to explain 26 years. When the pastor asked me to share, he specifically requested I replicate what I shared last year at the Recovery Community Inc fundraiser. I’ve spent some time trying to recall that was. I’m going to use this space to aid my memory:
I grew up in a good home. My parents are still married. I had everything I needed and most of what I wanted. Something wasn’t right, though. Even at 12, I remember never feeling good enough. That’s when I began cutting myself. That worked, for a while. It was than that i began signing my journals with “not alive at 25”. I’d decided I didn’t want to live longer than that. That was the deadline I put on the universe to make me want to live. Eventually, I got caught cutting. I had to find another way to ease what I thought was pain. I lost my virginity at 13. My problems had been solved. I spent he next couple years sleeping with my peers. I didn’t really want to but they made me feel important. I was making good grades. I was a great cheerleader. I was popular. I went to church. For some reason I still cried myself to sleep at night. The only things that stopped the tears were self harm or sex. Both of which had continued to get me in trouble. When I got drunk for the first time, I thought I’d found the cure to depression. I was invincible! Until my senior prom when I realized being drunk took away my motor skills so severely that I could keep unwanted hands out of my pants. Shit. What now? I knew what I was doing wasn’t working but I was also certain I wouldn’t be content without some form of relief.
When I was offered an opiate, an OxyContin pain killer to be exact, it was as if my prayers had been answered. Finally! Something to make me feel as beautiful and genius as ever without hindering my motor skills! It didn’t take long after that. I went back for more a couple times. After about two weeks, when I asked for more, the dealer only had heroin. I wasn’t afraid of anything. I googled how to shoot heroin and never looked back. The habit became expensive. I was physically dependent, dope sick without it. Over the course of the step few years I stole from my parents, from my boyfriends parents, my neighbors, until finally I thought there was nothing left to sell. I was homeless, hopeless, and seemingly helpless. I called my drug dealer. I asked if he could just front me some heroin one more time. I promised him I’d pay him soon. He told me he wasn’t giving me anymore fronts. He told me he had a better idea. He told me that if I sucked his dick, he’d give me drugs and money. I hung up the phone. I called my boyfriend and told him the preposterous proposition I’d just been given. My boyfriend reminded me that we’d both be sick the next day if I didn’t do it. I swallowed what little bit of pride I had left and called the drug dealer back. We met at toysrus is river gate. I treated it like a date, he treated it like what it was. When I was finished, I threw up. I went back to hotel I was staying in at the time. I showered and scrubbed my skin until it bled. I hated myself even more then that I ever did before. I promised myself it was just one time that tomorrow I’d be able to keep a job and that would keep my high. It didn’t just happen once. To tell you he truth, the first two weeks of it were terrible. It was awkward and disgusting. Pretty soon, though, I couldn’t feel anything anymore. Every ounce of dignity I thought I’d ever have was gone. I was a prostitute. After I while, I remember getting a call. It was time to go. This time, the client I was meeting lived pretty far out. I stood up from the hotel bed and stepped in something wet. I was wearing socks. I hate stepping in something wet while wearing socks. I looked in the mirror. My hair looked wet. It wasn’t. It had just been that long since I’d washed it. The clothes I was wearing were stolen. I was hungry. All of a sudden, I thought of my father. I thought of the pony rides he used to take me on and how he used to tell me I could be whatever I wanted to be when I grew up. I thought about who I actually became. It was a brief moment of clarity that faded when the phone rang again. It wasn’t long after that that my boyfriend decided to get clean.
I was terrified of being by myself, so I went to a mental hospital and told them I’d kill myself if they didn’t get me off the drugs. I called my mother. I told her I’d be home soon. She told me I wasn’t welcome. Thank God. My parents cutting me off is what saved my life. I went to halfway house in south Nashville. It looked exactly what you might honk a half way house to would look like. I kept using so I got kicked out. That’s when I met lyn. I came to rci and had a home. I laughed until I cried with women just trying to make it through one more day. I was taught how to mop, and not to wash towels with anything but towels. I cried with women when I had nightmares about the men that abused me while I was on the streets. I prayed with Lyn. I played volleyball with other residents. I remember a few months had passed and i unpacked my suit case. I had decided that was home. It still is. I have a house in Donelson. I’m in school to be a nurse. I have a car. I’ve received medical treatment for the hepatitis I contacted while on the streets and been cured. While those blessing are appreciated, the greatest gift recovery has given me is a desire to live. No matter what happens, I want to be alive to see it. None of this would have been possible had it not been for recovery community. I’m 26 years old and I haven’t wanted to die it quite some time. I have 3.5 years clean. You know, the only reason I started going to church was the make sure Godwhy was teaching my boyfriend at the time the right stuff. I remember when I walked in here for the first time. The shame that was on my shoulders. I never stopped believing in God. There was a lot of pain in that. I didn’t feel worthy to be in a building where I knew God was. The jokes of me because two years later, I’m still attending this church and it not to protect Justin anymore. It’s to thank God for my life and to learn how to show others his mercy. I still have nightmares about the men. Sometimes, I still feel disgusting. In those times, I looked down at my hand and see my wedding band. I’m reminded that God can turn a hoe into a housewife, and I am worthy of that gift.
So I just read that out loud at it was about six minutes. That makes me feel better. Maybe it is possible after all. Writing it though took much longer and now I’m tired.
To be continued..
“Don’t be afraid to let life wash over you. When you run from pain, you run from an opportunity to grow. Embrace life as being in a constant state of flux, and do not separate yourself from any part of it. You are only robbing yourself.”
—
Elliott Hulse | @themotivationjournals
via addicted2success
Forgiveness
Church this morning was about “division.” The pastors discussed how division is brought on by our lack of forgiveness and how sometimes, we have to forgive people who aren’t sorry. When there are quarrels between me and someone who is less healthy than I am, then it’s up to me to make healthy choices and end the division. So, the opening song was “Forget You,” by Gnarls Barkley. The pastor came on stage asking if we all had someone in mind when that song played. I couldn’t think of anyone. The service progressed, and still, nothing besides the small disagreement my husband and I had the night before came to mind. Finally, it hit me. My utter disgust with the McGregors is such a part of me now, it doesn’t even stand out. I’ve lived with it for so long that I can’t see it. It’s like your nose. In reality, you can see it on your face. That’s why when you get some kind of debris on your nose, you see it. Your nose has been apart of your body for so long that your eyes are blind to it.
They showed a seen from a movie called “The Shack.” In the movie, God asks this man to forgive is daughter’s murderer. He tells God he doesn’t know how. God asks him to begin by saying it aloud. After he says it, he admits to God that he’s still angry. God consoles him by saying that’s all right. Now, if that’s how it really goes, I’m willing to give it a try.
Just because I forgive someone doesn’t mean that their actions were justified. Although I’m not sure why, God asks us to forgive just as we’ve been forgive. From experience, I know that forgiveness brings peace. I’m not sure how to explain it other than to say that it’s much easier liking someone than it is to hate them. I just can’t accept that to be the only reason he asks that of us. It doesn’t matter why, though. He asks us to forgive, so I must forgive.
Do I need to tell Him what I’m forgiving them for? What if I don’t know? I know I’m angry. I know I’ve unfollowed them all on Facebook to prevent me from letting one picture make me miserable, but why? Am I angry because they made me feel unworthy? Am I angry because they mislead me and my family? Am I angry because of how Brandon treated me and am blaming everyone that bears his last name?
Or is it deeper than that? Pastor taught about how confusion leads to division. He said we spend time being hurt over things that never happened. Grantross never told me that he disapproves of me as wife. I just assumed that because his aunt did, she taught him to do the same. It’s scary to give him a mind of his own, though. It’s easier to lump them all together. It leaves no room for mistakes.
Something worth documenting is the fact that all the things Elise, Brandon’s mother, said, she said with the understanding that I would never hear her. When she referred to where I slept as the “devil’s bed,” was that really any different than me referring to Kariston as a “dope whore?” You see, I said that in anger. I was angry with Kariston for hurting my husband. I was doing what I thought was best to console him. Was Elise not doing the same? Was she not trying to protect Brandon from falling into sin using language she thought he’d fear?
Doesn’t all of this sound silly now? Michelle, Melissa, Craig, George (etc. McGregors) have never done anything to hurt me. Here is a list of the guilty: Joann, Elise, Marie, Greg, Donovan, Chantelle, Yolunde, Emily, and Brandon. All the rest are only guilty because of their last name. I’ve turned this into much more than it’s worth. My brother is the one that actually began this healing. I was listing their offenses to him and he kept interrupting saying things like “Yes, but isn’t that your fault?” Now, his uninformed bias was wrong but what he was trying to tell me was not: none of it matters now. I will do what’s necessary to assure I soon feel the same.
“It’s not always necessary to be strong, but to feel strong.”
— Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild (via wnq-quotes)
Cause and Effect
I’m writing from my bed, again. Writing is always beneficial but sometimes I’m too lazy for pencil and paper.
Today was full. We went to lunch, bought Layla new clothes, races go karts, saw a Beatles tribute concert, browsed Broadway and Printers Ally, and rode the bus. Justin and Layla both hurt my feelings today. Layla hardly counts though because she’s a child. Justin verbalized his opinion about my evening plans. Originally, I wanted the concert to be date night. I forgot to tell Justin that, so when we could find a baby sitter, he suggested she come with us. To make up for the loss of a date night, I suggested we make it a dress up date. I wanted to dress nice, go to a fancy dinner spot, then go to the concert. He was fine with that at first. He asked if Layla could wear her overalls. I said that’s not pretty fine dining attire. He was that opinion was stupid then became suddenly ill with me. When we got home, I said I didn’t want to go because he was grumpy. I started crying. He apologize. I took a nap. We ended up just going to the concert. It was all right. It just wasn’t the evening I was hoping for.
What I’m trying to figure out is why it escalated so quickly. Daddy always says “there’s nothing to figure out,” but I’d like to know the ingredients that called for such a rapid escalation. I have a few theories. First, i could be extra sensitive due to my period being just around the corner. Two, he was exhausted and frustrated from the small money tiff we got in this morning. Three, I heard the word “stupid” and took the conversation somewhere he never intended to go. Brandon’s usage of that word towards me scarred me, no doubt. It all began when he mocked my sleeping pattern this morning. He was thrown off by the fact that on my only day off of the week, I wanted to sleep in past 10. Yes, I sleep more than most, but my responsibilities are always taken care of, so why doesn’t it matter? Anyway, after he made such a big deal out of it, I got up. We rushed to shop without coffee or time for me to wake up. I believe that was a bad start. Less learned. My period is out of my control. My sponsor says with time I’ll adjust to it, and it won’t be such an issue. If the answer is three, that requires he most work. I feel I should let him know that he handled his frustrations wrong. I’m hoping tomorrow I’ll know what caused it.
What I’m sure of is that I can’t blame him for not knowing I wanted a date night. I didn’t tell him. It’s ludicrous to put expectations on someone without telling them.
He did offer to buy me things all day at the mall. He knows I’m broke. That was sweet. He also massages my shoulder tonight. I told him I pulled it and needed it to be rubbed. I’m not sure it helped though.
I took my nursing entrance exam and scored with the top 8% of the nation! I wanted to write more, but I’m getting tired.
“Heartache is good. Accept it joyously. Allow it, don’t repress it. The natural tendency of the mind is to repress anything that is painful. By repressing it you will destroy something that is growing. The heart is meant to be broken. It’s purpose is to melt into tears and and evaporate. When the heart has evaporated exactly in the same place where the heart was, you come to know the deeper heart.”
—
Osho
Read More on wordsnquotes
(via wnq-quotes)
What is it like to have a best friend?
I’ve wondered that my entire life. It appears I expect too much. My best friend’s exhusband was just released from jail. She’s back hanging on his every word which means I’m lucky to get a text back. I’m used to it by now. He leaves: she’s mine. He comes back: he’s hers. My sponsor says I’m begin selfish about the entire situation. I’ve cried with her over how much of a shitbag he is for years now. I feel it’s only normal for me to grow tired of this cycle. When I analyze why I feel such a resentment towards his release, I do find that it’s rooted in jealousy. Jealous, at its core, is a selfish emotion. Great. I’m selfish. Now, what? Why do I require so much attention? Mary Ann didn’t invite me out tonight or last night. Kennie leigh didn’t tell me she was going to Chicago. Why does that make me feel like I’m not good enough? One might argue that after I learn to love myself I won’t need so many people to prove to me that they love me. Sure. I’ll buy that. But why then, after three and a half years of step work, prayer, and meetings, do I still feel as alone as I did from the start? I have a theory, one the usually proves true. I’ll start my period next week. Wild emotions always show their colors the week before my period. So much so, that I can’t remember how I felt before. Did Maryann’s absence of an invitation bother me last week? I’m honestly not sure. That’s what’s so bizzare about mental illness, if that’s what this is. I heard in a meeting Thursday that the most insidious characteristic of the disease of addiction is its ability to convince you you’re not sick. When you have cancer, your white blood cell count proves your sick. The weakness in your limbs reminds you constantly that you need medication. Addiction turns a bad day into a bad life in an instance. After an hour, you’ve convinced yourself that you were never sick to begin with, you’re just equipped with faulty machinery that will never function properly, despite the maintenance. On contraire, the truth is cancer patients need chemotherapy, and addicts need one another.
Tomorrow, or maybe next week, I’ll find humor in how hopeless I’m feeling right now, but what do I do in the mean time? Hang on, of course. Don’t use. That’s not even on the radar. Pray, always. I just want a group of people that are going to surround me for years to come, people that never make me question their love for me, people that rejoice and cry with me, people that don’t hurt me. Maybe, that’s the answer! Maybe that doesn’t exist. If I am asking for people who provide divine friendship, I’m not really asking for people, am I?
This is what I’ve missed about an online journal. Sometimes, I’m too tired or lazy to go sit under a lamp and put pencil to paper. It’s not often that I’m too lazy to stare at my phone. Here I am, laying next to husband of 20 days, in a dark bedroom, at 11pm, pouring my heart out to God, myself, and whoever else cares to listen.
How intriguing! That last sentence alone gave me enough gratitude to lift my chin from the dust. Even if it only lasts a moment, I’m reminded of how blessed I am. My bed is so comfortable. There’s a clock sitting on my dresser so I can tell the time at all hours of the night. That’s important, you see, because for a long time, it didn’t matter what the time was. As a matter of fact there were only two times in my previous life. If I was well, it was time to scheme money for when I inevitably became dope sick. If I was sick, it was time cop dope. It didn’t matter if the sun was out or not. It didn’t matter if I had money or not. It didn’t matter if I had been asleep yet. There was never enough daylight, money, or sleep to make up for the way I was living my life.
There’s my answer. It doesn’t matter what it feels like to have a best friend. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here to make this world a better place. I don’t need a best friend to do that. I need gratitude and God. As long as I have that, I’ve received more than I was promised. The promise Narcotics Anonymous gave me was that I would have freedom from active addiction. That’s it. It doesn’t matter if I get into nursing school. It doesn’t matter if I’m respected. That’s not what I’m after. All I ever dreamed for was the desire to live. Tonight, I have so much more than that.
Allow me to introduce ourselves
I’ll give a quick introduction, although I don’t particularly feel like it. My name is Maggie. I’m a newlywed with 3.5 years clean. I’m in recovery from drug addiction but I’ve spent most of my life being addicted to one thing or another. Most days, I still live on the “pink cloud” discusses in many Narcotics Anonymous meetings. I believe in God, but I won’t argue with you. I am a proud member of Narcotics Anonymous. I’m a college student by day and an underwater preformed by night. I’m a mermaid at the aquarium here in Nashville. We preform shows in tails to Disney songs underwater. I wait tables there too from time to time. I’ve had three tumblrs in my life time. The first one was found by my at the time girlfriend’s mother. I had to delete it due to the honesty it housed. The second one I had from then until 2016 when I was locked out of it because of the an email change. I’ve written both yahoo and tumblr regarding the issue to no avail. I plan on reblogging all my previous text entries to this tumblr so I can save them for memory. This is my third one. I believe my pain was in vain if I don’t use it to help others. Please, if you need/want anything, don’t hesitate to contact me. I will now post this text and begin another one about the day I’ve had.