Dry

“Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night.”

— Sarah Kay (via wordsnquotes)

ketchup

I haven’t written in a while.  I’ve been to busy being a wild child, apparently.  I’ve been flying, having a few drinks, and sniffling.  I say that as discretely as I can just incase my tumblr begins to get visitors. 

I recently discovered I do not need to take more than two shots of vodka.  I threw up once after three, and I threw up so many times I can’t count when I took four.  I had so much fun but I’m not all that sure it was worth all the getting sick.  I had my first drunken video taken of me Saturday.  I didn’t even remebmer it.  I just heard about it.  It was pretty funny.  I kept apologizing for getting so wasted, saying I promise I didn’t mean for it to get this far.  Then I fell back words, sat back up and said, “let’s get laid!"  It was really funny.  I didn’t like being so confused and sick in the morning.  And I had plans of revenge that night but I got to wasted to carry them out.  Luckily I am pretty sure now that I will have another few chances. 

I could pay attention in this class but to be honest I really don’t think it would help me.  Reading the chapter myself is much more sufficient.  This teacher is about 75 years old and admitted that he’s only teaching again to see if he can do it.  It’s becominf obvious that his retirement, God bless him,

But come to think of it I do need to study for my next class, bye.

hey, hey little razor blade.

Meet me behind the curtain at six.  I’ll be anxiously awaiting your arrival.

Why me?

check in

I haven’t said very much, lately. I’ve been writing a lot more. Tonight I went to the carnival, threw up on one of the rides, and had the time of my life. Last night, I played volleyball then a friend rented a bicycle downtown and had me sit in the basket as we rode through the park. Everything is going to be okay. Jess and I aren’t together. Some days are great and some days hurt like hell. I’m still staying clean. I’m still in the halfway house. I’m gaining my parents trust back. I’m working. I’m smiling. I’m not giving up.

wash it all away

I put my Galaxy S4 in the washing machine about a week ago. Clearly, it was an accident. I was ten kinds of fucked up over it. My parents got me this expensive phone for Christmas because they trusted me, they knew I wouldn’t pawn it like I have everything else in my life. It was the only thing I have that held any value. My mother and I took it to two different cell phone repair stores. Last night we had to give up and accept that the Galaxy was gone for good. It was time to let the grieving process begin but then low and behold my mother bought me another phone right there on the spot for my birthday! I love it. I love her, I love my family. I’m so blessed. Now, there’s more. I think. As the days go by I get more and more comfortable with who and where I am. That’s beautiful. My intensive out patient classes are getting to be more bearable. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I’m just not going to be allowed to work in a restaurant so I best get out there and do something because I can’t continue to let my parents pay for it all. Jess is Jess. I love him, he loves me. We’re trying to work it out where we can see one another more often. He obviously doesn’t handle life very well without me. Oh, wait. You don’t know. I’m too proud to even write it out for you. Why is it that I always get along with the guys better? I went out with a few the other night. One was weary because we’re not really supposed to hang out with other people in our program but by the end he said I was like one of the guys and okay to be brought out like that. Why, thank you, that’s really what I was looking for, your approval ha. No. It still felt nice I guess. Is it wrong to enjoy attention? There is this guy that pretended to be all brotherly at the convention and I found yesterday he’s been telling everyone that he just wanted to fuck me. Now that, I don’t appreciate. I was seeing red last night after being told about it. There was more said of course to make me so angry. I did the right thing, though. I was given that information in confidence so it was not my place to take care of it. I just know that I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he knows that I’m not going for that shit. Even talking about it fuck with me. I can’t count how many times that message has been delivered to me. That’s what’s sick about it. What do I do to attract that nasty and attention. You know, the wrong kind of attention. To be honest, I think it’s because men see and talk to me then automatically think I can be easily manipulated or taken advantage of. And I’ll give them that, that’s usually the case. However, I’m so oblivious to it when they’re doing it that they don’t really get the chance to take that vantage. Then I find out like this, typically from another guy trying to sneak his way into my pants. It’s sad really. Don’t pay me a compliment because I’ll never take you serious. Believing guys like that has helped get me to the torn to shit emotional state that I live in now. Thank you baby, thank you so much. I sound like I’m all negative. I’m not. I just need to make these things clear to myself, you know? When it’s written down it’s always easier to understand, to see what I’m doing wrong or right in their eyes, apparently. We’re going to play volleyball tonight. He will be there and so will he and so will he. Confusing, I know. We’ll see how it goes. It cant be that bad. Right?

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.

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..

“God in my heart or heroin in my veins”

— Heard in meeting (via kelseymmc)

“Go as far as you can see; when you get there, you’ll be able to see farther.”

— J.P. Morgan

Hi, TSU.

Tennessee State University.  Hi.  So far, you are friendly but not exactly welcoming.  I’m alone but for now it’s okay because I’m not sad today.  I don’t live here so to me the campus is huge and every step I take I feel like the campus swallows me a bit more.  My guess is, by the end of the week I’ll be okay.  I’ll know where my classes are better and know how to get here correctly.  I’m having second thoughts about not living on campus.  I mean look at me, I’m stuck is this big education portal with nothing to do and nowhere to go for an hour; and after my next class, I’ll be stuck doing nothing for another hour.  I wonder if I can still live on campus.  Or maybe, rent an appartment on campus or close, like they do at MTSU.  I know it will really hurt my parents but, I need to do what I need to do for my education right? Sometimes dad and I talk about what’s important.  He says he wishes he spent less time trying to make money for us and more time spending time with us.  So am I going to regret living in a dorm, or on my own rather becauyse of the lost time with my family?  Or am I going to regret not doing it because it’s so much harder on my for school?  I wish I could just stay the night down here two nights a week; Monday night and Tuesday night.  Maybe I’ll meet a friend that will let me stay with them some.  Like perhaps before exams or something.  I feel like I could make friends, but, Idk if anyone here is feeling me or not. It’s freaking hot.  Idk what to do.  To be real with myself, honestly I’m 99.9% I’ll be staying at home.  I suppose the drive is not that bad.  Maybe I’m just jealous of the college life everyone else is experiencing.  Or maybe, I’m just moody because I have a headache.  I hope it’s that one.  I’m going to try to redo my room.  Maybe that will make me feel like this whole thing is a new experience.