Maggieruthless-blog - Maggie Ruth

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precipitation

It’s 1:41 am and it’s raining outside. No one will ever know what the sound of rain drops hitting the ground means to me, but I’ll try to explain. When I was on heroin, I drove a beat up Toyota with no drivers side window. Every morning I’d wake up hoping it was dry outside. Regardless of the weather, rain, sleet, or snow, I’d still have to drive downtown to cop. Otherwise, I’d be miserably dope sick, unable to get out of bed. Back then, I didn’t watch the news because regardless of what that weather man said, I still had to go out and drive in it. Today, however, is different. Today I can watch the news, see that a storm is coming and plan ahead. Today I have a choice as to whether or not I drive in the current conditions. Hearing the rain tap the asfalt over and over again reminds me that I have a choice. It reminds me that I don’t ever have to use again. It reminds me that I made bad choices, but I’m not a bad person. It reminds me to help overs in this journey of recovery. It reminds me I lived through many things I shouldn’t have. It reminds me that I’m a miracle. It reminds me that we do recover.

“You mean more to me than anyone else has. Love, Justin.” I’m so blessed. To make this sweet surprise even more rad, he left an orange sucker with a cricket, of sorts, frozen inside. Who does that? I think I’m in love.

envy

I’m so selfish, I know. I don’t ask for much, really. Just time, your time. All I do is work and anticipate your arrival. It’s not your fault that I require so much. I wish you could see what I see. I am grateful, of course, for the joy I’ve found in being in a relationship with you. Physically, and emotionally. I see you so occupied. I long for some type of fulfilment, other than your touch. I am old enough now to know that giving someone all of myself leaves me with not much to work with. I get so frustrated because I really know no other way. It’s all or nothing. Love or hate. Yours or mine. I’ve never been very good at sharing my attention, not that I have anyone I need/want to share it with. I know I’m just sitting here alone, feeling sorry for myself but damn. I need something else in my life. I can’t rely so much on him. I can’t rely on a substance for entertainment. I can only write for so long about so much. Sometimes I want to get away from myself. Escape. To where? I don’t know. What do I need to escape from, though? I have a happy relationship, nine months clean, loving parents, a job, a home. What more could I ask for? What am I even looking for? I know I need to attend more meetings. I have told myself that anything I have to say is too intimate for the public that is Narcotics Anonymous. So, I go and sit in silence. Although competent and content, it just isn’t enough. I will feel better in the morning. I always do. I could sit here and sulk all night. I am blessed with the money I’m making this week. I am blessed with the upcoming opportunity to start a new medication with 90% success rate. While nervous and almost reluctant, it is a blessing. I just pray my insurance will cover it. There is no way I’ll be able to afford it otherwise. It’s something that keeps me up at night. I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I want to touch and be touched, without having to think twice. I haven’t said much the past few months. I tried to make myself write on paper. I am better. I just suddenly became so frustrated I didn’t want to get off the couch. I want to feel like I am saying this all to someone other than myself. That’s just it. I want someone to say this to. Someone who wants to hear about my day. I want to hear about their day. My boyfriend does all this for me but it seems I need another outlet. He had so many people looking up to him. So many people that want to hear what he has to say. He shares his attention with me and the many others in his life. So, when he is spending time thinking of others I lay inches away from him patiently waiting to be at the top of the list for a few more minutes. He is everything I need and more. I don’t deserve him or what he does for me. I just feel, I don’t know, alone. And that is fucked up. I live with the most remarkable human being I’ve ever met and I still find myself making “accidental” movements just so he will look my way. Maybe that’s love, maybe it’s obsession, either way it’s there and I must find my own way of making the most of what he is to me. In the end, I think I’m just envious of him and his time. He is so praised in our community, he loves and is loved. I, by choice, am as far back in the shadows as one can exist, all things considered. I don’t know how to interact normal. Fearless and delighted. Furthermore, who doesn’t want attention from their significant other? Sociopaths. I’m beginning to ramble so let me just tell you what has been going on. I moved out of the halfway house and got an apartment with my seemingly heaven sent boyfriend. I am a few days short of nine months clean. I am being promoted at work. I have began to seek treatment for the damage I did to myself while using. I was asked to speak at a fundraiser which may not sound like a big deal but it has been a milestone in my life for the maturity I am having to take on. Running out of excused for misbehaving. My family is a wreck but they love and accept me, as I do them. My eyes are beginning to burn.

Better late than never, for memory’s sake. The most beautiful bouquet I’ve ever received. I am so grateful for my boyfriend, family, and friends. I am so blessed.

(Purple tulips for my favorite color and roses to keep it classic. I loved them!)

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.

“There is always something left to love.”

— Lorraine Hansberry, A Raisin in the Sun

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.

“If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.”

— Kristin Hannah, The Nightingale

sponsor

So, I got a new sponsor. Her instructions were clear. She wants me to call her everyday for thirty days. She also wants me to write her a letter stating what I expect to get out of sponsorship. I’ve thought about it and all I can seem to come up with is what I’ve heard in the rooms. I hope to have someone who has more sense/wisdom than me to come to with issues in my life. I hope to become more aware of myself and who I am. I hope to become more comfortable with myself. I hope to learn to help others the way I’ve been helped. I hope to stay clean. I hope to grow. That all sounds good, right? What else? I don’t know.

you're still scum

even if I did have a few facts confused.