Absence Makes My Heart Forget.

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.

“I’m not the person you left behind anymore. There’s no one here to miss.”

— Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You

“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

wordsnquotes

hey, hey little razor blade.

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

Why me?

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..

cure

There is now a cure for hepatitis c and I am going to get it! Not treatment, but the cure! It is 99% effective. I am so blessed. The scaring that has already occurred to my liver is irreversible BUT as long as a do everything I’m told, medically speaking, it won’t get any worse. If I decide I want to, I can now have children without having to worry about making them sick, etc. I can’t express my gratitude to my God for what he is doing in my life. I love you.

This glass house is slowly shattering.

Traffic is so unpredictable.  I left at the same time I have been and I got here fourty minutes early.

I stay up late on school nights because I know regardless I won’t get enough sleep so why try when either way I’ll be extra tired.

He confused me last night.  I think he saw my hip because everything was going smoothly then all of a sudden he seemed kind of awkward and I saw him look I just don’t know if he actually saw it or not.  Either way, in is in.  After that there’s no backing out unless you wan me to be crazy and apparently he did.  We ended things like I should’ve started them.  After that I laid close to his chest, listening to his heart beat pretending to sleep because I could tell he was exhausted.  I loved his smell.  It’s created a memory in me you know?  It seems to be a weird smell to love.  I want to know who I am to him but asking him might scare him away.

I was talking to a friend, telling her I’ll be home around noon unless I have a lunch date with my friend.  She said, “oh is that how you get all these dates?  Get a boyfriend and theyre all ready for action?"  I said "yes, exactly  .Except your boyfriend has to always want you naked, and he isn’t ashamed to say you owe him that.  He has to expect you to stay christian while at the same time, expecting what I mentioned above.  His family needs to dislike you to some extent.  And you have to be extremely misunderstood.  See, it’s easy babe."  That’s sad, but mostly true.  It’s a hard knock life.  I wonder though, if all boys are the same it’s just I haven’t been with any other one long enough for them to show their true colors.  I’m ten kinds of in love with him, so none of that matters for now.

Everyday, I think about what they did.  And I still can’t wrap my head around how in the hell she let herself do that to me when she claimed to love me so very much.  I know I was a bitch but that was when she started treating me like a child.  That was when her, him, and me would all hang out together.  That was when I saw it coming but hoped to God I was wrong.  I tell her everytime we fight about it that the only way I will ever get over it is to get her out of my life.  She says that would kill her.  Yeah, just like she almost killed me.  She asks why I’ve changed.  I tell her because the me that she met a year ago died when the heart break started.  She believes that I can change back.  I know I’ll never be the same.  Ever.

To those who have stabbed me in the back in someway or another, go to hell.  You took the only part of me people liked and burnt it at the stake.

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

— William C. Hannan

Gratitude list 1;

-I am clean today. -My family. -My boyfriend. -My sponsor. -New friends. -My health. -My home. -My car. -My job. -Narcotics Anonymous.