*mistreated

“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

peripheral vision

Being that I am in fact a junkie, and perhaps I always will be, I will think about using on daily basis or at least for the first few months, I think.  You know, you can take the needle out of the vein but you can’t stop the vein from flowing to/from my heart.  It’s still rather frightening that I will always be one mistake short of ruining everything I’ve worked for, crushing my parents once again, and counting the breaths I take because deep down I know they’re numbered again. I want more than anything else to rid my mind/body of the suffocating desire to use drugs.  I can’t sincerely say that I will never use or drink again. I can say for the next 24 hours I will not pick up, though even if I have to shorten that oath to an hour. I’m sick of lying and I’m sick of trying and I’m sick of dying. I know that’s not the life I want so why the fuck do I spend the better half of my day mourning the loss of my dearest heroine?  That’s where the disease aspect of my addiction comes in. I am better than the life I was living but I still can’t help but wonder if I am capable of living any other way. That is insane. I was raised better than the obsession I’ve been cursed with. So, it must be a disease because that’s not who I am.  The mental obsession makes you feel sick to your stomach because it’s not a normal human emotion. I got to spend two days with my boyfriend while I was home. I really enjoyed myself and so did he. It’s like it recharged our love for each other. We knew we were in love and that hadn’t changed, we were just having a hard time believing our love was capable of enduring these hard times. But we know now that we will be stronger for it.  The only thing that could stop us is if one of us got in a bad binge again that we couldn’t recover from. Time heals all wounds but you have to be willing to give the wound time to heal and not continuing scratching at it.  I am really happy with him. I’ve only been back at Phases for 3 days and it’s already getting hard again wondering what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with but I do trust him and I’ve got to let go of the jealousy of anyone else getting to spend time with him. He’s not going to cheat on me period, bitches be damned.  We made love all night and it was so beautiful. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt with anyone else not to mention that he is the best sex I’ve ever had or ever will have. He goes out of his way to make me feel sexy, beautiful, and never ceases to amaze me with the joy he brings in my heart. As corny as this all sounds I’m so in love with him. He is my heart and I am his, you can’t live without your heart. I just pray that my father will eventually accept the love we have for each other. If he makes me choose the right thing is to choose my father but truth be told I would just continue to be with jess behind his back. I love them both so much I’m not willing to live without either one of them. I’m not sure if I mentioned that the halfway house I’ve been staying at, Phases, called and offered to give me another chance.  I said I’d come as kong as I could have my phone and they agreed. But when I got back this program is something like 12 people under. So many people and relapsed and left that there’s hardly anyone left. So is that why she offered for me to come back, because they needed the money? Or was it genuinely because they want me to succeed and want me here as a person as well.  Either way my mother doesn’t want me staying here. She wants me to go to Recovery Community.  And I actually kind of want to go there too.  You can be in a relationship there and your curfew is 10 PM and you get to keep your cell phone and it’s just all around more laid back from what I hear. Now, it could’ve been represented falsely to me because the source that offered that information isn’t exactly reliable. I’m going to call to get put on the waiting list tomorrow and I’ll ask those questions. My job is beginning to be too much. I’m perfectly capable of following a schedule but when you expect me to jump when you says it’s not fair. I make plans or just want to relax on my days off and it never fails that he will call me in. Yesterday I just ignored his calls all day. The night before I did say that if he really needed someone that I would come in but I was naive enough to believe that whoever was scheduled might actually come in. So I slept in and just didn’t answer. I should have because I said I’d come in but I just needed a break. To be honest I’ve just been too depressed to get out of bed since I’ve been back. I’m hoping that’s because I missed a couple days of taking my medication and that it will get better since I’m back on it but I really don’t know. I’m lonely again. My new roommates are older and never home. When I was staying at the main house there was always something going on and someone to talk to.  And my roommates there had gotten to the point to where they enjoyed my company or at least enjoyed laughing at the things I said. My house manager said I needed to spread my wings from the main house. I’m not sure if that because she trusts me more, or if she just doesn’t care if I do well as long as I’m paying rent, or maybe she just thinks I’m happy enough with myself that it doesn’t matter where I’m at and who’s there with me.  Either way this isn’t working out so well. And Idk if another halfway house will fix this funk but it’s worth a try. I fear that perhaps I’m running away from my problems by moving but I just know that something definitely needs to be different if I expect myself to make it further this time. Plus, I’ll get to be with Jess much more. And with that dirt bag Clint tried to take advantage of me and what Crissy got me into and the friends I’ve lost here, I just want to join another circle of recovery. That might be immature but I’m just desperate to be at least content with who I am because I’m just not happy. I love my parents so much it’s insane and that’s the only thing that’s working out. My father isn’t really talking to me because I spent time with Jess (my boyfriend, by the way) but my mother is my best friend again and for that I am grateful. I mean I’m like really grateful I am blessed with the best parents anyone could ever dream of. As a matter of fact it’s actually making me tear up which is okay because it’s motivation to give this sobriety shit a try. I need to do it for myself but if I’m doing it for them I’m at least doing it and I know that eventually I’ll get to where I’m doing it for me again because that’s how it went before I relapsed. And don’t get me wrong. I am so blessed and believe it or not with I take a moment to think I am more grateful than I’ve ever been.

“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

“Every one says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive”

— C.S. Lewis

dry

I’ve been writing in my journal lately. I find it healthy, however, I find it necessary to also keep my tumblr updated. With that said, my life is one casualty after another. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration. Allow me to explain. I have yet to move back home, just stalling really. I know that when I get moved back in nothing will have changed. I’ll be put in the middle of my parents marriage. I’ll be required to do everything around the house because apparently, my sister is too sensitive to be upset at all. The lady is still in my life. My hands are dry and I want a cigarette.

Absence makes my heart forget.

Out of sight, out of mind. 

I am getting bored though.  It’s time to spice things up a bit. 

He acts like I have him under some kind of spell.  Perhaps, it’s because I let him believe he has one over me.  But, he doesn’t have anything on me.  I not fourteen anymore.  I can stand my own ground.  The way he touches my face makes me think he wishes things were different.  It’s an on going chase.  I let him get close, then sprint ahead.  I don’t know why I’ve let it go on this long.  I’ll get around to ending it at some point I’m sure.

I want to move out.  I don’t like lying to my parents, but I want to do what I want, ya dig?  Yeah. 

He’s extremely hard to read.  For a day or so I was thinking he could be gay.  But oh no, he is most definitely not.

Well, I smell like fried rice.

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.

This one time, I wore eye liner..

chances of impulse

Do you think that maybe, just maybe, they really are okay with being just friends?  Or maybe they’re just really lonely.  Either way I’ll take it over being used.  We just watched tv for an hour and a half.  Simple.  I know he tried to be a good friend.  Whereas him, Idk how to read.  I can see in his eyes and the way he talks that he’s got some dark secrets behind those eyes.  I can see that it’s hard for him to be okay with opening up.  But, come on, you can’t just not talk.  You can possibly be as apathetic as you pretend to be.  and you, you can’t possible care about me the way you say you do.  Why me?  Why not all the other girls.  I hope you all show your colors soon before I go color blind. 

I don’t know why but I did it again last night.  It was impulsive.  It popped into my head and I got up walked to the bath room and did it like it was brushing my teeth.  Without flinching or blinking.  I ran over the first one a few times then decided it was inadequate and I needed to take advantage of the chance I was taking. So I did it twice more around the same spot.  I wasn’t satisfied because the utensil was dull, but it had to do because I had people to see and places to be.

I didn’t lie, I just changed my mind.

This ring I accidently shoplifted from earth bound, well I’ve decided it will be my sanity ring.  It says, “wherever you go, there you are”.  I thought a lot about what this could mean and I decided that for me it means that the journey is the destination.  And as long as I’m wearing it, I’ll remember everything will be okay.  And as long as I wear it I’ll know that I’m awake.