More On Unconsciousness;

You guys, I now get paid to be a mermaid. I’m not allowed to post about it until our public debut in Jan, but considering only a few of my followers know me personally, I figured this was a safe place to let some of my excitement out. Stranger: “What do you do for a living?” Me: “I’m a mother fucking mermaid, man.”

“Sometimes all you can do is lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart.”

— William C. Hannan

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

— C.S. Lewis

“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

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.

“There is always something left to love.”

— Lorraine Hansberry, A Raisin in the Sun

“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

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So, much

There is so much that needs to be mentioned. That is, of course, if anything truly needs to be mentioned on Tumblr. How cynically cliche of me. Addiction is such an ongoing vile, forlorn disease, as they say. Whether I’m sober or not the misery of it all never truly fades. I’ve done some things I never thought I’d consider in my darkest nightmares and the truth is in that moment it seemed like I had no choice but to hold my breath and put one foot in front of the other. That’s all there is worth saying. Jessie, my boyfriend, is the only thing in my life that has given me a glimpse of hope in things to come. I don’t know who or where I would be without him. He’s been staying with me therefor making closing my eyes on these cold nights possible, or so it seems. As miserable as I may sound every step I take with his hand in mine takes me one step closer to creating the life I pray I’ll one day have. Thank you. I love you. After several attempts in contacting me, Brandon has managed to put himself back into my life. He had asked me to come see him for a couple of weeks so finally after talking to Jessie about it I agreed to meeting him. It always starts the same way, too. He brings up the way our relationship ended then proceeds to ask me if I was given the chance again would I give him/us one last go. My response this time explained that even though I’m no happy with who I am or what my life is I couldn’t be happier with the man in my life. I’m sure there are certain things in my life that would have probably turned out in someway more positive or at least tolerable but in the long run I honestly don’t think it would’ve been worth it. He went on to tell me he’s still in love with me and would like to try again if at all possible. He had me download some sort of application that would allow us to talk without his psycho girlfriend from finding out (she checks the phone bill every month and calls any number that is unfamiliar). I didn’t directly answer his question about trying again although I’m not all that sure why. Perhaps, in the hidden places of my heart I was deceived, thinking it could be possible to find some level of happiness in doing so; if only for an instant. I’m pretty sure though I was only thinking all this because of what I always imagined we would be not necessarily because I actually thought I would genuinely be happy or content. My response lingered also because I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wouldn’t be open to the thought of trying it. After all, he was my first love and there will always be a part of me that he has taken that I will never get back; a place in my heart unfortunately reserved for him. In the end I’ve found the man of my wildest dreams. A man that didn’t exist up until a year ago. A man that picked up the shredded pieces Brandon left me with and made something beautiful and capable of a love that can’t be defined. Cliches aside, I’ve found something in Jessie I can no longer live without and I thank my God for that with every breath He blesses me with. I love you, I love you.

“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