I feel something is off, just that feeling you get....it's hard to explain. I'm sure it's nonsense but Ive always been told to trust my gut and always have, which is making nervous and worried.
I hope it's nothing.
FACK! FACK! FACK!
I HATE THIS FEELING!!
To top it off, I keep staring at my phone like it's going to ring, and that's annoying me too.
Bah, I didn't take my meds today, I wanted to see how I was without them. Up until now I was alright I guess.
*sigh*
I'm worried that my gut feeling is kicking in and not my meds running out.
Bah, if something were to happen I'm sure I'd get a call......well......then maybe not....
I see the sign every day, 'Cook Wanted'. I need a job that will accommodate my current and future focus and this would do that.
So, what's my focus? Currently, I go to NA meetings every night. This is a must so I need daytime hours.
I will be taking a Psychology course in January. This is flexible since this course is offered at a variety of different times. After Psychology, I will be taking a 6 month Phlebotomy course. Ideally, I would rather dedicate 6 months to a course to be an Emergency Medical Technician but the Community College I go to doesn't have that as an offering yet.
Anyway, back to the 'Cook Wanted' sign. This job would pay under the table and get some money in my pocket. I know 2 people that work there who are well liked so I'm confident they would hire me.
Oh, did I mention that this job would be in a bar? Its not just a bar but a place that has a lot of drugs going in and out of it. Oh, its also maybe 600 feet from my doorstep.
I'm tossing the idea around as to whether I should apply or not. I don't obsess about drugs nearly as much as I was but why put myself in such a situation.
Maybe if I just keep my focus, do the job and leave after my shift everything will be ok.
I was watching the news last night and apparently a cop is facing up to 14 years in prison for exploiting a prostitute into giving him free sex. As a former prostitute and a cop-hater (I do have good reasons for hating cops), I hope this pig gets what's coming to him... and plenty more!
People think its all fun and games.....But I see it as my prison....It is no longer any fun....It has now become work....trying to keep going this spirit-crushing addiction.....has kept me hog-tied and gagged.....I have completely lost any sense of freedom.....it.is no longer fun....and it is not a game anymore.....it is work, work, work...trying to become normal again.
I just paid for a one-way flight to Bangkok. It leaves on the 8th of January.
There I shall not stay, but travel on to Phnom Penh in neighbouring Cambodia. Probably by air, as I did the land journey the last time and the temperature was around 40c most of the time.
This time it's going to be in the hot season
I'm starting a 160 hour TESOL English teaching qualification when I get there for a month. I will have already completed a 160 hour TEFL with a London based academy by then, but I really need some more practice, not to mention the free Khmer classes that are an extra-curricular option there.
My (vague) plans are to try and secure a few jobs in February that I will work at from then until late in the year, before visiting Europe for a couple of months and then repeating the cycle.
I am never, never going to live in London again:D%)
'Lost dreams awaken, new possibilities arise.' -NA
These trials, pains and self-torturous thoughts. These feelings of inadequacy, failure and disappointment to others, they all count for something.
I can feel the growth inside of me. I can see the difference in myself compared to how I was before.
I have this energy today. Its an inside thing and this energy isn't meant to be released yet, apparently.
People from my past that were important to me didn't believe in me. They saw me weak and hurting. They saw me penniless and needy.
I guess this is how they thought I would always be. They were wrong.
Even in the darkest part of my junkie life I knew I had strength and potential. Well, maybe not strength but buried deep inside I KNEW I was capable of being worthy to myself and others. I KNEW if I got my shit together on the insides I could achieve whatever I set my mind to.
Its still early for me but I recognize the POSITIVES about myself as well as the negatives.
I wonder if those people from my past who doubted me will poke their heads back into my life when they see these changes.
I wonder if I will be humble or if I will shout loudly 'I TOLD YOU SO, MOTHERFUCKER!'
Ya see, I told ya I still have a lot of work to do on myself
i ve been on the antipsychotic medication seroquel for 6 years now. It was prescribed to me for schizophrenia resulting from heavy ecstasy use. But i miss ecstasy so bad, and i m thinking of taking it again as soon as i m off seroquel. how long should i wait for seroquel to be out of my system completely and do u think i will get full effect from ecstasy like i used to before starting seroquel? any chance seroquel messed up my receptors or something?
Just came across sum of the best bud my neck of the woods. Ok. I don't live in the woods.I live in a stinky city.This batch is totally diff than the other,which I had built up a mondo tolerance to......
As soon as I smelt it ...I was like whOa!! ?
this is gonna be sum good shit man!!!!!
So deprived. Fucking sober, horny too......
my bones ache like shisim.....Xanax fer sleep
Kicked Mr.brownstone to the curb
Something that I've been meaning to do for a while is start up a mini food blog. Nothing too heavy yet, but I'm going to aim for weekly updates. As a start, let's talk salads.
Quite often, when people think of vegetarian diets, they think first of tofu, and then salads. And truth be told, I think that salads are both over-represented and under-achieved in vegetarian dining. Granted, I don't live in a hotbed of vegetarian dining, but it is still a bit surprising when I go to a restaurant and the only vegetarian dish is a garden salad.
The thing is that I think that many people have too narrow an idea as to what constitutes a salad. In my parents' home, a salad consists of romaine lettuce (at best) with maybe some celery and fridge tomatoes, drowned in a sugary bottled dressing. I love my parents dearly, but salad people they aren't.
As with most good cooking, good salads are about contrast and balance. Mixing crunchy vegetables with tender leaves, bitter arugula with a tangy/sweet honey and lemon dressing, or a sizzling hot dressing over ice cold greens. Lately I've been looking into incorporating pickles into salads, and have found that there is a great tradition of using quick-pickled cucumbers as a side salad.
Here's a simple but excellent recipe, taken from Eating Out Loud:
4 cups English or Persian cucumbers, cubed
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 cup rice vinegar
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon mirin
Pinch of red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds
The cucumbers should be chopped into cubes about 1/2-3/4″ thick. The Persian cucumbers are small, so I sliced them length ways then cut crosswise into half-moon shapes.
Place the cucumbers into a bowl and sprinkle with the salt. Toss the cucumbers to fully coat. Let sit for 15 minutes. The salt will season the cucumbers but also draw out some of the water. After 15 minutes, thoroughly rinse the cucumbers and drain. Make sure to rinse out the bowl before returning the cucumbers.
Combine the vinegar, mirin, sugar, and red pepper flakes into a small bowl and stir until sugar dissolves. Pour the mixture over the cucumbers. Press the cucumbers down into the liquid so they are covered as much as possible. Refrigerate for 8-12 hours.
It’s important that the cucumbers sit for as long as possible – it’s amazing how much difference it makes. I tested them at 6 hours and they were ok, but after resting for the entire night they were absolute rockstars. Before serving, drain the liquid and sprinkle with the toasted sesame seeds. If you haven’t toasted sesame seeds before, you can read this post on how to toast sesame seeds.
While I love the pickled cucumber salad just the way it is, I played around to see how I could mix it up. You could add sliced sweet-pickled ginger for an added kick of spicy-sweet flavor or add seeded and chopped tomato for texture contrast. All three versions put a smile on my face.
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I've tried this recipe myself a few weekends ago, and let me tell you, it blew me away. The sweet/sour/spicy flavour of the pickle with the half-soft/half-crunchy texture of the cucumbers was just brilliant. It is a quick pickle however, so if it is left for too long the cucumbers will get limp and gross. Eaten at the right time though, they are a thing of beauty.
Well today I went into the clinic to grab my daily dose and was notified that today was my monthly UA date. I was a little bit uneasy because on Vet's day I dosed 1.5MG Clonazepam. A positive benzo UA at my MMT clinic is very bad. They'll drop your dose something like 20% and make you jump through all these hoops to get it back to where it was before your dirty. You can actually get discharged from the program if you continue to have dirty UA's for benzos. I figured that I am probably safe, today being the 18th and Veteran's Day was the 11th. I took a fairly low dose and it has been a week. That 1and1/2 milligram of Clonazepam is most likely out of my system by now (I hope). I have been thinking about maybe upping my daily methadone dose. Currently I am on 85MG. It has been working OK, but I *am* obviously having cravings to get high - I went and hunted down that Klonopin didn't I? I think 100MG might be a good dose to be at for me. At the MMT Clinic in Spokane, WA (Spokane Regional Health Department) my dose was 115MG and it was the same formulation of methadone (Mallinckrodt Methadose(C) Oral Concentrate 10mg/mL). i'll think more about the raise and make a choice one way or the other soon.
Back to my old self again now i wake with the notion that its actually worth getting up. even though nothing has changed i think im just adapting to the stress. either way i can rationalise depression again and force it away. i guess these issues wont ever go away so ill just learn to endure and be happy regardless. its just kinda hard when youre not sure what makes you happy other than a substance to distract me for a moment.
Well, hello dear Blog. I suppose I should write in you more often. You and your readers have always been kind to me.
I'm really nervous right now, even for me. I know this time it's biological - my Full Moon period (one could set a clock by me) is getting to me. I should be proud of having half my homework done, getting through an extensive software tutorial that will make my final a breeze (ha) but nonetheless my nerves are on fire. I could take a benzo but I have already had my daily dose and do not wish to misuse my scripts. I may take a nap as it is my day off, but I do not want to sleep through a call. I may compromise and make flash cards while lying in bed. Day 1 of my cycle is such a killer now. I suppose it beats the alternative.
I mentioned in a comment in another Blogger's blog that I feel I am at a crossroads. It relates to career. Should I give up the former and aggressively pursue the new one? I am doing almost too well in school not to, but let's just say that tax accounting (new educational path) is not the most exciting thing I have ever done, and although the glass is half full in nailing out this homework... nonetheless I am nervous. I believe it is unfair for my instructor to accelerate us in this way, but I haven't a choice in the matter. I simply must perform, and perform well.
I have a meeting on Friday with someone who wants me to work with her for the season provided we hit it off as people. She says my credentials are flawless and it's basically a done deal if I can put up with the fact that she is "high maintenance". I may or may not have found a new mentor. Now I have to read her damn book and go take a test on the software.
Before the call I received just now, I felt hopeless and more than a bit apprehensive. My work is so important to me. I do it well and diligently. Some people really hate work, and this is the driest work imaginable, but shit...
*breathes*
I CAN DO THIS. I CAN DO THIS and if it doesn't work out, then something else will.
Please send me good wishes as I have suffered terribly without the meaning that work gives me. I can finally write my own ticket in life if I get this right. I can hit it off with almost anyone if I try, but this has to be genuine, and it can lead to great things.
Back to my tutorial and pile of homework - no more "why me". I'll think a bit on how funny it is the way things work out sometimes, and then I will ponder my next move.
I remain mostly abstinent from alcohol and all drugs that are not scripted to me. Life is good clean. There are some areas that I need to work on, but to paraphrase Dr. Seuss, with my brain in my head and my boots on my feet, I am prepared to head down a brand-new street.
Please wish me luck with all of this. A week from now I want to be thankful, not dejected.
You might see this new girl in your street
Always lying low and staying discreet
A stunning white beauty, thinks she's all class
But those who know her say it's a farce
Every night she plays with some new fool
Turning on the charm, it's so damn cruel!
She demands a lot of cash in exchange for her time
But they want a piece of Crystal, even if it means crime
People call this chick "nasty" behind her back
She's one dangerous bitch, there's no denying that
Underneath the beauty is a devil in disguise
She'll fuck with your life, while she gets you high
Crystal's sometimes found hangin' at a rave
Getting passed around, she's totally depraved
But she doesn't really care, that's just how she acts
Hooking up with randoms, any she attracts
Her latest lover was one sad dude
Fell in love with Crystal and got real screwed
No job, no family, not a penny to his name
The bitch took everything and left him in pain
Now even worse, he's got some disease
Not hepatitis, but HIV
As for little Crystal, she keeps hooking up
Inflicting her misery upon the next poor fuck
I've been feeling rather creative lately. Here's an anti-drug poster I made... I took the photo myself and edited it using Picasa. I actually printed a copy and stuck it on my bedroom wall as a little reminder to myself!
By the time I was 20 I had to maintain a daily habit of: (BTW I AM NOT DICK-SIZING, JUST STATING THE TRUTH...AND I NO LONGER DO ANY OF THIS SHIT)
-4gms methamphetamine
-5-6 barrels heroin/7gm+ homebake
-2gms cocaine
-1/2 40oz bottle of vodka + 5-6 shots absinthe to settle me in the evening
-8 bongs marijuana
plus I often used E/psychedelics/party pills.
To maintain a habit like this you are either: rich (like film star rich)...or a criminal.
I had a $50 horse, as mentioned in an earlier entry (actually by then I'd picked up a cheap little pony who was worth a few beans, but still...we're talking $2000, not what I was using daily) so it doesn't take Einstein to figure out which category I fell into.
I'd started hocking jewellery off Mum when I was younger to help chip in towards our group's coke and weed - this progressed to involvement with a guy from a local gang, George, whose dad was a P cook.
We started off burgling chemists for pseudo and bringing it back to the lab in truckloads but both of us were severely addicted to narcotics. We'd be off our faces on P and would spend more time searching for morphine, codeine, etc. to actually bother with the pseudo!
In the end we started cooking P too. Even manufacturing, distributing and pushing didn't pay for any more than my P habit though.
So I was a prostitute. Not the sexy massage parlour types that work legally. The seedy, hoochie-looking, pock-faced, tracked-arms illegal cats who worked under pimps. A lot of men actually liked me, ugly as I was.
My real crimes were against humanity though. My first boyfriend Taylor was a heroin addict. He went on the methadone program when we hooked up. For me. Funny though - you can't give up drugs for people other than you. He hated methadone. Called it liquid handcuffs. He lived right out in the wops and had to drive for miles to get a dose. Now I'm on methadone I hate it just as much.
Anyway oneday he decided to get off it. I don't think he was ready. He never looked comfortable in his own skin, even though he took it real slow. I'd never touched heroin at that stage - I was (19? Who cares....) and I was naive. Well to how badly skag eats you up.
One night we had a party at his house - he was 2 months completely off methadone. Yet he invited all these junkies! Kate was on the skag - she'd been his dealer....funny how you could get anything off Kate - and while Tay and I were sharing a meth pipe and some booze, the bitch offered him a free hit.
I'll never forget this next bit.Taylor just rolled up his sleeve like a robot, loosened his arm from round me and said, his cat-green eyes looking lost and soulless 'promise me one thing baby - promise me you'll never try heroin.' I did...and I tried to stop him but...try stopping a junkie with a barrel of china in front of him.
After that hit, it seemed like 5 seconds later he turned blue. I tried pounding at his lifeless chest, screeching for someone to call 111, that we needed an ambulance.
Then there was silence. I'd just come to the realisation an ambulance was pointless. Taylor was dead.
I broke the promise that night. I tried heroin. After that I never really stopped.
Then I met May. She was a cousin of my best friend at the time, Laura.
When first introduced to the 'squeaky clean' rich girl I hated May on sight. May stood for everything I wasn't. Everything Laura (who wasn't into any drugs except weed....yet strangely was my best friend....) wanted to be.
Sadly I didn't realise, in my wasted state, how much little May looked up to me. She started ringing me and I introduced her to all my partners in crime. I wanted to corrupt this 15yo rich kid!
May got addicted in a day (to P). Same way I did. She started out, tentatively drinking and smoking weed, pretending she'd done it all before when it was obvious she hadn't! My male friends all had turns in bed with her. She was (still is) gorgeous and they loved her. She even did E and fucked George. I saw red - he was my fuck buddy!
Oneday May turned up at George's joint during a party. She got pissed with us and told me she wanted to be a model.
I snorted and said 'you're too fat - maybe you should try P'.
May was like 'oh no I don't do that shit' but by the time she was drunk enough me and a bunch of others helped convince her to try smoking some. After that night she never stopped. By the time she was 16 she was an IV user (though she still prefers the pipe).
I found out later when our friendship became 'real' (after we both got clean around the same time and started going to NA) I'd been a sort-of idol figure to her. Fuck knows why.
I feel still like I let down two special people in my life - Taylor and May.
Crime's not always about breaking the law is it?
What is meth anyway? So many chemical names start with 'meth' and i have had plenty of drug experiences so that's why I prefer to call methamphetamine 'P' or 'crack' rather than 'meth'.
In America, for instance, 'meth' is short for either...well methamphetamine, yes...or methadone.
Here I want to get into how I became a methadone addict.
We don't call methadone 'meth' here. We call it 'done.
You're pretty much a junkie thats done the rounds if you end up on 'done.
I always swore I'd never go on the methadone program. Heard too many horror stories.
I kicked heroin/homebake/whatever opioid I happened to be using at the time a million times before turning to methadone.
I would either kick on my own or if the habit got bad enough all I had to do was get a bed in fucking detox and they'd get me off the junk (and whatever else I happened to be using at the time) in two weeks with the Magic Suboxone.
It wasn't till last time when I ended up with a heavy china habit like I'd never had before and the options were either
-stay in detox for a fucking month starting from 32mg suboxone...on the promise that was the last time detox saw my face as far as my 'opiate issue' went (they didn't really have the funding to keep me in that long anyway so I would have possibly had to do 2 weeks home detox with a nurse visitting daily to administer the suboxone, plus meds for the P addiction I was also fighting)
-stay in detox for 2 weeks and go onto suboxone or methadone maintenance.
I chose suboxone maintenance but long-term bupe made my ADHD worse - and the dose I needed was too expensive for our family. It was methadone or nothing.
I blindly chose methadone. Why the fuck not? Of course I was going to relapse. I'm. An. Addict.
Also got to back up and understand exactly why I'd dug such a deep hole this time.
May and I had both relapsed on P and May was dating Chris, who was my old coke/opes dealer for awhile. Chris had joined a bikie gang. May had moved into druggie heaven.
Chris' gang are renowned for two things:
-VERY GOOD CRACK
-VERY GOOD SMACK
Smack is rare in New Zealand...but if you know the 'high up there' members of this gang, like Chris' dad, you can get not just smack...you can get china white. It's always 'who you know'...
Shortly after relapsing on P, I also developed rebound withdrawals from the clonazepam I was taking for my epilepsy. You could say I was perpetually strung-out.
So as I switched to diazepam, I started doing my old dodgy codeine extractions, cooking homebake and all that jazz. Shit I even swallowed at least a gram of codeine phosphate (before giving into the old homebake urge) daily for awhile. At one point I didn't shit for nearly a month. Then I ran out of pills for one night, slammed some P (good old P) and shat enough to last that month, if not two more...I didn't know I had so much shit in me.
I went to Chris when the homebake stopped working. Chris' drug of choice is not methamphetamine (to May's disgust) - it's oxycodone.
When I turned up, rattling on their doorstep, May came to the door ready for a sesh but I was so strung-out she just rolled her eyes at Chris who was doing lines of oxy off the glass table.
After I'd had a couple of lines myself, shot a bit more and scored plenty to take home....shit I relaxed.
Oxycodone's kind-of a 'semi-stimulant' opioid for me - on it, I feel quite productive, yet relaxed...a bit the way I feel on a low dose of amphetamine.
After getting my fix, I smoked a couple of grams of crack (my other fix) with them and we talked into the night, then May drove me home.
For a good month I fucked Chris for oxy. May's not stupid. She knew. But I guess she was fucking so many guys for crack what did it matter what I did with Chris?
Then oneday my oxy wonderland came to a smashing halt. Chris couldn't get any for a week...he just actually took the methadone he was supposedly taking (he dosed at the clinic twice a week and got takeaways but otherwise just sold 'done along with everything else).
I had unbearable withdrawals. I mean, fuck, valium made me sick enough without being dope-sick. So Chris gave me one contact I wish I'd never met.....his dad.
Next thing you know I'm meeting this dodgy member of a biker gang in an alley near Wesley nightly for bundles of heroin. I just had to suck his cock or even let him get inside me plus give him a bit of cash and I got what I wanted...I should have known that was too good to be true!
I got pretty sick on heroin. Didn't eat...didn't shower.....didn't even change my clothes.
Methamphetamine became my 'wake-up' hit, rather than my drug of choice. Suddenly I preferred heroin - I had never had stuff of that purity before.
I was only on it for about 3 weeks in the end before that came to a crashing halt though. One night I was gang-raped by that gang - 30 or 40 of them at once pretty much. That was when I decided I had to kick heroin. Again.
Methadone works for me. I pick up my dose three times a week and dose twice a day. I admit I have a psychological addiction to the dreaded stuff. It's a love-hate relationship - I panic if I don't dose at the exact time I like to dose! It tastes like liquid P yet feels like nothing except for 'bye-bye urge to shoot heroin'. After all, it is synthetic heroin.
I'm heading towards 200mg and I'm still not stabilised. Am I surprised? No. I was on 3gms of china a day plus 40mg valium (which apparently abates opioid withdrawals). I have to put up the dose at least 5mg every time I drop 1mg valium.
It's a wonder I'm still alive. Maybe its because of methadone.
That is the estimated date of my conception.
January 1980, the date my parents found out that I was going to be born with what they called at time time "disabilities" and probably would be "retarded" because of them. Yeah the 80s docs were smrt.
April 22nd 1980 is the day I was born, a whole month premature. Cleft palate, jauntice, deprived of air for 2 minutes, a whopping 9Lbs 10oz though.
My grandparents said I should have been aborted cause who wants a retarded "handicapped kid to raise. Then while in NICU my genius parents went out for dinner and got drunk then came to see me, yeah smrt parents. First encounter with CAS.
Skip ahead to childhood era 1983 - 1989. My dad and bro are dealing pot, my whole family doing drugs of all sorts, I'm left raising myself, rarely having clean appropriate clothes or food living in housing (the projects is the american equivilant).
All members of my family are mentally ill but my parents not diagnosed until much later on in my life. My dad telling me daily how I'm a loser and a failure and a retard. Getting teased each day at school for my speach issues. I get a crush on one of my only friends in 3rd grade, he turns me down laughing in my face saying im too ugly n too retarded.....this coming from my bestfriend @ school. Then my bestfriend at home I find out is getting a daily ass raping by my youngest brother from the time she was 4yrs old until 12yrs old. THEN of all irony my only friend left from my brother drama bullshit gives me a daily ass raping for 3yrs before beating me to a pulp. THEN I meet my bestfriend, my love, my "John" who's dad was selling his son for sex to support his heroin and crack habbit. November 15 1990 "John" the love of my life took an unknown drug, was under psychosis or just went crazy from it all. He pulled out a gun after balling in my arms for 3hrs and pointed it in my back then my face and asked if i wanted to die too, told me he never loved me, then blew the head off. Me covered in.....the result. I ran and hid and bawled and went nuts for a while. No one ever knew I was even there with him, suprisingly. He was only 16, I WAS 10 yrs old.
1990-1992 the years of my brother's court for molesting my ex-bestfriend, where he was found not-guilty cause no one would rat him out.
I met my current bff in 1991, the only good thing in my life really ever but we've never been super close, though we're like sisters. She wanted to kill herself in 1993, I saved her by just sitting on the phone and talking. Secretly I was very fucking scared.
I've been floating along with no sense of purpose of late. What's life if you aren't actually in service to others?
I remember calling the Salvation Army a month ago and leaving a few voice mails telling them that I would like to volunteer long term as opposed to merely offering help for the holiday season. They never called back. This kinda makes me not want to get involved with organizations like theirs.
I just feel fuckin' empty.
Recently, I've been trying to grab any purpose I can. I thought that I could be the 'protector' of people. This isn't good because it typically disrupts my sense of peace and involves me stickin' my nose in things that are really none of my business.
I'd like to go across the street and have a few drinks but I can't do that because I only have this borrowed credit card and no cash. I could drink on the card but wouldn't have any loot to go to the city to score.
Why do I feel like I'm falling? Is it the lack of purpose?
I need a fuckin' job. I need routine. I need to feel productive. Instead I sit here stagnating. No apparent growth and faced with the inability to really do anything worth while.
I'm told I need to be patient. I have been. Enough already with the fuckin' patience! I'm following all these suggestions and to tell the truth I many of the NA sayings piss me off.
I say I feel like using. They say 'just don't use'.
Thanks for the AWESOME advice, man, really. 'Just don't use'. Fuck you! I'm clean because I want to be something. I want to be someone.
I guess the results aren't showing quickly enough for whatever reason. I HAD hope before, now I'm starting to lose it rather quickly.
If I use my life will turn to shit. Right now, I'm in a type of purgatory surrounded by a feeling of nothingness.
What did I get myself into? I can't get high and now I'm being prevented from finding a true purpose.
I'm angry and am having thoughts of violence more often than before. Believe it or not, I want this violence to manifest itself in an NA meeting.
I'm not permitted a moment of escape through drugs. I know where this will take me. Why aren't I allowed escape through something positive such as service to others?
I've debated ever writing my shit, but 29yrs of not what has it done for me? Make me such a fuck up that I screw everything up, have no friends and end up emo alot. Maybe if I write it all out, it could help to move on. Though, I know certian people really wouldn't want to know my shit, and I hesitate cause I don't want no fucking pitty or I'm sorry's. Its been 5 years since the bad shit has been gone so I need no pitty or sorry's. I am gonna write it for ME and no one else. Though I guess it would help some of my friends who don't understand me, understand why I am the way I am and my mind set. I will write it in my next entry, cause I need to TRY and eat.... I haven't really eaten much since those 3-4 pickles last weekend and milk each day. I must eat..... next entry I write.
1992-1993 my 22yr old brother was having "consentual" sex with a 12yr old girl, who also happened to be my friend AND neighbour. He ended up getting her knocked up, and her parents sent her away.
From 1990-1997 my only friend was my bff who once got into boys rarely hung out with me, so I mostly spent my time alone to my thoughts, reading, or once i found out about the internet in 1996, using that at the library.
1997 i met "Steve" who I thought I was in love with and moved in and had a kid with. He was a shitty dad then letting his baby sit in dirty diapers ALL day and crying in her playpen. At night raping me on a constant basis. Punching me once on the TTC and making me lose my first pregnancy calling me a fucking dirty cunt, and no one did anything though many saw.
Oh before him though trying to find a bf or any kind of relationship, getting laughed at and called too ugly for many years.
April 2002 "steve" kicks me out after i paid his rent, steals my daughter and runs off to live with his mom and new gf who he had been fucking for months. Found out he'd been fucking every girl he could since we started dating.
Finally get the courage a few months later to try at my friend who had been flirting with me, but ya, rejection again. Lost him as a friend too. The only man so far that actually liked my daughter/kids.
I tried dating 1 guy but he turned out to be really psychotic, like you weren't sure if he'd kill you in his sleep and he thought he was michael myers kind of fucked up, and I def. couldn't handle that at that time.
all alone in the shelter system until Feb. 2004, where my shit kept getting stolen, I kept getting sodomized and yelled at. I went back to school and got my OSSD, though, as a kid I was told I was smart enough I should graduate by time I was 16, but I dropped out and was fucked up. I got my OSSD in 2004, then went to security school and passed there and met "T".
"T" and I started dating in May 2004 and we moved in together September 2004, found out I was pregnant in October 2004. He so far has been the only man to treat me like a queen, love me unconditional. He got on meds, was fucked up and I got sick of his shit. I met an amazing man, that I will not mention his name, cause he knows who he is. Met him in 2007/8 online, I always liked out online chats at night. He was nice and sweet to me, only man to ever call me sexy and hot. I found him incredibly sexy n hot, a smart man, and over all incredible (oh shush, i know your ego is sky high already LOL). I was sick of my monotonous boring fustrating life and said fuck it and risked and gave up on everything to spend time with this man. To the point that I left "T" and my kid and had my own place lined up to get away from all the stress and bullshit. I met this amazing man finally and I've never been one for love at first sight or that OMG! at first sight thing.... but I was..... "OMG!" and I just couldn't help hugging him. I wish our meeting was kid free but life sucks and all....lol. 2 weeks of the sweetest man I ever saw, and sweet emails, and the way he made me felt by being so free with his words and feelings.
I guess I must have screwed up somewhere, I guess no one wants a chick with kids, maybe I'm destined to be alone forever and stuck living with a fuck up cause I'm too mentally fucked up to hold a job long enough to pay rent.
I go try and get my shit in order, for this guy, left my fuck up whatever for this dude, and YES again, rejection. Only hurts so bad cause this amazing guy I considered my bestfriend, he told me many times he loved me and missed me.
This after losing 5 of my friends who lost interest in me. 2 friends of mine who committed suicide, a friend who died of H1N1, my ex who kept saying he wanted to kill himself and die.
Then people wonder why I get clingy to friends, why i get emo, why i get so profoundly hurt when i fall in love so deeply and get rejected.
I guess I'm too fucked up, too ugly, too much baggage, and too fucking stupid.
I guess I'm destined to be alone forever.
Fuck, and I can't even become a nun.
It feels like I am slowly going crazy along with such heart break the my chest literally hurts.
I'm not being emo, just telling it how it is.
Rejection, hurt, insulting, berated for 99% of my life.
Then people wonder why I am the way I am.
I am the nicest person in the fucking world, I help anyone in need, I would give my last dollar to help someone in need, I would never hurt anyone, I love so deeply when I fall in love and it's always forever, I am non-judgemental, I don't care what you do or have done or will do (besides rape and pedos).
All I want is for someone to care, someone that's not my kid to LOVE ME, BE IN LOVE with ME. To Spend time with ME.
I take people as they are, like them/love them no matter what and all that. Why can't I get a fucking break ya know?
WHAT MAKES ME SO FUCKING UNLOVEABLE?!
Want to know something? When in relationships I was NEVER emo, NEVER, I was always happy as long as theytreated me good.
What is so wrong with dating someone with kids?
My kid has been through more hell than most 4yr old have been, he has seen more death and murder than any 4yr old should.
He has been hated by so many people (I LOVE HIM DEARLY). He has a fucking father, I am not looking for a daddy replacement, he's seen death, guns, drugs, and crazy ass mofos. Everyone has hated him but me. Why, how can someone hate this lovely boy?!
More so how can some people dislike him when he is so like them in so many ways.
Why do men think my kids would even play a part in any part of the relationship UNLESS it got serious enough for "sleep overs" or moving in together. Thats not likely to happen since I live with my ex and son's father.
People assume so fucking much, it hurts that they would hurt me on assumptions. Then when I tell them they're wrong, they have to resort to a lie - something that would cut so deep and hurt me.
All I ever wanted was to lay in a man's arms weither all night or a few hrs, letting him hold me, while my ear upon his heart listening to the rythm of his heart. Talking about everything and yet nothing. Going out and having fun even if broke ass poor. To be able to kiss him, hug him, or what not whenever. I don't even care about sex. I love sex, sure, and would love to have it every day / as much as possible.
All I want is a chance.
Why will no one ever give that to me. Why must EVERYONE hurt me.
Maybe I need to be a horrible mean person who abandons her kid for meth and is fucked up 24/7/365 and a cum dumpster for men.
Seems people go for that type of person over me.
Thanks world for making me feel so worthless. My mom should have swallowed instead.
NSFW:
NSFW:
What is so bad about the above?
All are excuses.
You afraid of nothing.
That line fails, every excuse seems like fear to me.
Afraid of a 5'5" LiL woman, who has never betrayed anyone, has never hurt anyone, has loved so deeply and has taken everyone as they are and still liked/loved them. Nothing anyone has done would ever scare me.
Oh well.
Fuck the world.
The people I love, I will Always love, even if they hurt me.
That's enough getting my shit out, anything else would just be trouble and more drama.
Don't think this is all about you. It's not. Its the only place I can write my shit out where no one I know IRL can read....... well...... yeah 1 person, but hey who gives a fuck, no one cares bout me except my wonderful 4yr old.
A kid with ADHD, Behaviour issues, PTSD, dietary issues, seen death almost daily, seen drugs daily.
Oh do we see any commonalities...?? Noooooooo, being in my life would ruin it, and my kid..... HA!
Meh fuck it. If I write more I'll be accused to being EMO.
Though I bet I'll be accused of being emo already.
Fuck you all. Its all just truth, it's all my life.
I wrote it for me, not you, not for pitty, not for sorrys, not for anything but me.
People think its all fun and games.....But I see it as my prison....It is no longer any fun....It has now become work....trying to keep going this spirit-crushing addiction.....has kept me hog-tied and gagged.....I have completely lost any sense of freedom.....it.is no longer fun....and it is not a game anymore.....it is work, work, work...trying to become normal again.
