“Sometimes All You Can Do Is Lie In Bed And Hope To Fall Asleep Before You Fall Apart.”

get out

I don’t like to shake. I don’t know why I always do.  Maybe it’s my heart or my asthma.  Either way I’d like to fix it.

It’s sad he got kicked out, but it makes me understand why I haven’t heard from him.  Mom was sweet offering our couch to him.  He’s got a lot going on inside.  He tries to hide it, but I see it.

Whyyy don’t you text me?

I didn’t expect you to reply, but it was nice talking to you.

God interviens right at the perfect time, which is good but not very much fun for little wild children.

I still don’t get you.  I know that I could get you talking if I really wanted to, but one, I don’t want to do things the way I used to; I like it happenstance, that way, it’s not my fault; and two, if I am too bold, it’s a temptation for him to revert to his insticntive boyish way, which is not what I need right now.  So, I’ll let him to the talking.  It makes things really slow but it’s me being somewhat careful.  So, we’ll see.

I need to stop looking at your pictures.  They can be infectious.

I want to, but I don’t feel like explaining myself, and they will see it.

Old friend, maybe I’ll give oneee more try.

I wonder if I’m strong enough to continue these friendships.  I don’t believe she’s changed.  I think she’d maybe think twice about doing it again but that wouldn’t be enough to stop her.  At first, going back was absolutely unthinkable.  The thought of it was sickening.  Then, I gave it a try.  It was still really hard but I bit my lip swallowed my pride and did it.  It was easier on everyone.  So for a little while, I just tried my very best to forget it ever happened.  That worked for about two months.  But it’s back again.  It gets worse everyday.  Sometimes such hatred boils beneath my skin that I never want to see her or anyone that reminds me of her ever again.  Which may not sound like a big deal but it is, to me at least.  He was wrong as well, but I have to remember he was single and half way convinced we wouldn’t get back together.  It was wrong for him to go after a friend of mine, but she threw herself at him.  But, how could they?  I laid sick in bed for months and they had a hay day faking love because I wasn’t around to give it.  After everything I've done for them, after everything we’ve been through.  I’m a pretty shady person, but I would never, ever, do that to anyone.  This has changed me.  It’s made me crazy.  My outlook on what’s “okay” and what’s not is twisted.  I feel that no matter what I do it will not add up to what they do.  Therefore, ruthless wrecklessness is as good as innocence to me.  I lie, because it them who took my truth and used it against me.  When I’m alone I convince myself that payback will make me feel better.  Maybe one day it will but so far that hasn’t worked.  And what’s wild is that they still have the nerve to speak to eachother in front of me.  God knows what they do when they have a few minutes alone, though I do my best to make sure that never happens.  After what they did to me, they are still comfortable speaking?  They should be ashamed.  They should feel awful for even glancing in eachother direction.  Anyway, my point is the way I live life now, I will never be able to escape them.  And I’m beginning to wonder how much longer I can stand this.  It’s madness.  It’s making me mad.  And the only solutions would drastically change everything I’ve ever known.  I hate you.

Maybe, everything is okay and I’m just thinking too much.  Trying to find a problem so that I can runaway again.  One of the songs he wrote a while ago said, “you runaway like you’ve got nothing to lose”.  I know that his last name makes me lucky to be associated with him in some places and he’s crazy talented but am I better than this?  Am I better than the way I’ve been treated by him and his family?  Part of me says I deserve less and wants no one.  The other part is convince I need something else.  Someone else.  He doesn’t hear me.  He doesn’t take me seriously.  He makes fun of the things I love, writing, my music, etc.  He thinks I owe him so much, and maybe I do but he’s such a pusher.  I’m not stupid.  But then theres how cute he is, how smart he is, just the way he is, I love it.  We’ve fought so hard for this, why throw it all away?  He swears to love me, and I swear the same but I just want to know what’s right, what’s best.

I wish I could move out without offending my parents.  I’m beginning to think I need it.

I’m beginning to have trouble breathing again.

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.

“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.

“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

write first

Usually, I scroll through tumblr to look at what’s been posted since I last wrote. I do this with the intent of writing afterwards, but I never make it that far. I’m doing it backwards this time. Write first then reward myself with scrolling.

I’m here to catch up, I think. I still haven’t heard anything from APSU. I have not reason to panic for another 20 days. The application said acceptance letters would be sent out on or before June 15. I did find out that I have the necessary credits to graduate with my Associate in Science from VolState. I take my exit exams Tuesday. It will be so lovely to finally have something to show for the last 2.5 years. I can’t really achieve much with that degree but it’s imagine it still looks nice on your resume.

I picked up Layla (step daughter) after work today. We have her for the half of summer. She lied to me a few moments ago. I had to tell her to cut her TV off. The remorse in her voice is almost too much to bear. I see why Justin (husband) has a hard time disciplining her. I’m exited to have her this summer. She’s going to church camp and swimming lessons though so that will take some time from us.

Nancy and Jim are still together. They began paying for a ring. I can’t exactly tell who’s being distanct, me or her. I think it’s both but more heavily on me. I chose to stay with her through this. I need to make the effort to do that.

Justin starts a new job next week. He will be back on days. We are overjoyed. I just pray this job works out well. I hope he loves it and I hope they love him enough to take care of him if the buyout doesn’t end well.

I thought I had more to say.

death, dying, and unconscious sex;

I leaned over the boiling oil at work yesterday and suddenly I wanted to be submerged in it.

Sometimes people ask me why I get so unhappy.  I don’t know.  I just know that I do.  Even on some the days I take my medicine correctly.  Of course it’s not as bad as it normally would be, without the medicine but I still find myself wanting eternal sleep.  It’s a shame relieving yourself of this seemingly unpleasant life is a sin.  I would rather not go to hell.  So, for now, I’ll stay here.  It seems praying for death all these years hasn’t worked.  I don’t know why I still try.  The last time was less than a month ago.  Bravo fuck-up!

As a younger girl I used to think about how it seemed to me that a guy couldnt possibly have sex with an unconscious girl and live with himself.  Today I have been informed that they are just fine with it.  That bastard.  He told me he would never do that to me.  I swear it didn’t happen.  I would remember that.  Is he lying?  Or did I some how convince myself so well that night that it didn’t happen before sobering up that I have no memory of it?  It didn’t happen.  It couldn’t have. If so, that makes twice now.  Sixteen, and eighteen, who would’ve thought that would happen to me?  I am too strong for this shit.

BASTARD.

Please, what’s said on tumblr is never meant to be repeated.

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..

hey, hey little razor blade.

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

Why me?

We went cliff jumping/diving, again. I climbed a tree and it was fucking epic. That is all.

MTA 26

I just hopped the bus on Gallatin pike to get to work.  I will get downtown only catch the 12 bus to Nolensville road.  One positive to catching the bus is you get hit on every time you catch a bus.  Some guy just gave me his card with his phone number and room number at the hotel he’s staying at. The old me would’ve jumped at the opportunity not because I was attracted to him but because I’d take him for every dime he had and more than likely succeed.  Today, I need money but not that back and for that I am grateful. I got to hang out with Jess last might. And for those 2 hours everything disappeared.  I didn’t have a care in the world other than not wanting our time together to end but all things must come to and end. I’m just so happy I got to spend that time with him.  He’s my rock whether I like it or not. My boss wants to fire Crissy, my friend that got me the job.  It makes me feel good but also guilty because she’d lose her job and I’d keep mine. That’s all I have to say right now. Eleven days, of course.