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so its day 2, 5:55 in tha mo-nin.
I guess I woke up early cause I'm not used to getting to bed at a normal hour. hah. I can deal with that.
today for breakfast I'm thinkin of making an omlette. I never go for cooked food usually cause I'm w/ding and when I wasn't I was too high to care. so today I think we'll do something nice for a change. maybe I can toss in some onions or mushies (not those kind you druggies!
) to add some flavor.
after that, weather permitting, I'm thinking a bike ride again. they say working out helps quit dope, and I can' t think of a more fun way to start to re-build my stamina than riding a non-geared bike up hills and shit. should be good times.
I'm liking the idea of this Roast thread. should be good fun. just as long as it doesn't get out of hand like the last ones, and people get butthurt. I know I won't, but some people don't get jokes.
well, thats it so far, the day is young. maybe I'll edit this if something worthy happens.
peace yall
edit: went on that bike ride. pics in the pic thread, had a blast. something about just crusing my old stomping grounds from when I was a kid is soothing, and upsetting at the same time cause they've changed so much. but it was nice nonetheless. I stopped by the hydroponics store near me too and talked to the woman there about stuff... funny story there actually, totally smelled like weed when I went in. I dunno if it was or not, but it smelled like somebody was tokin' in the back room. and the chick that works there definitely knows what people are doing. you know how you talk to someone "publicly" about stuff like that, well we both knew what each other was talkin' bout. LOL it was funny. I might try and get a set up going sometime down the road, who knows, I'd like to give it a try just to see if I've got the green thumb or not... either way, I'm sure there are folks here who I can to talk to for some tips and tricks.
ok, done ramblin' for today. will update you tomorrow.
thank you BL, I think the lounge is helping me more than anything right now, simply to help pass the time if nothing else. so if this quitting ends up successful you'll all be a part of it.
-dP
I guess I woke up early cause I'm not used to getting to bed at a normal hour. hah. I can deal with that.
today for breakfast I'm thinkin of making an omlette. I never go for cooked food usually cause I'm w/ding and when I wasn't I was too high to care. so today I think we'll do something nice for a change. maybe I can toss in some onions or mushies (not those kind you druggies!
) to add some flavor.after that, weather permitting, I'm thinking a bike ride again. they say working out helps quit dope, and I can' t think of a more fun way to start to re-build my stamina than riding a non-geared bike up hills and shit. should be good times.
I'm liking the idea of this Roast thread. should be good fun. just as long as it doesn't get out of hand like the last ones, and people get butthurt. I know I won't, but some people don't get jokes.
well, thats it so far, the day is young. maybe I'll edit this if something worthy happens.
peace yalledit: went on that bike ride. pics in the pic thread, had a blast. something about just crusing my old stomping grounds from when I was a kid is soothing, and upsetting at the same time cause they've changed so much. but it was nice nonetheless. I stopped by the hydroponics store near me too and talked to the woman there about stuff... funny story there actually, totally smelled like weed when I went in. I dunno if it was or not, but it smelled like somebody was tokin' in the back room. and the chick that works there definitely knows what people are doing. you know how you talk to someone "publicly" about stuff like that, well we both knew what each other was talkin' bout. LOL it was funny. I might try and get a set up going sometime down the road, who knows, I'd like to give it a try just to see if I've got the green thumb or not... either way, I'm sure there are folks here who I can to talk to for some tips and tricks.
ok, done ramblin' for today. will update you tomorrow.
thank you BL, I think the lounge is helping me more than anything right now, simply to help pass the time if nothing else. so if this quitting ends up successful you'll all be a part of it.
-dP
My parents are here now. Well, not here here anymore but in their hotel. They got to town kind of late and we went out for dinner and then just came back here and I set my mom up with a Facebook account (LOL). Azrael growled and hissed at them, you can definitely tell who rules this apartment and it's not me.
Tomorrow we're going to the farmer's market with lunch at Buraka, Olbrich Gardens, and some shopping and then Sunday we're going to The Original Pancake House for breakfast and then just hanging out until I have to go to work.
It's so good to see them. My relationship is so weird with them and I rarely see them but I still love them and always will.
Tomorrow we're going to the farmer's market with lunch at Buraka, Olbrich Gardens, and some shopping and then Sunday we're going to The Original Pancake House for breakfast and then just hanging out until I have to go to work.
It's so good to see them. My relationship is so weird with them and I rarely see them but I still love them and always will.
I didn't want to pollute the TDS social thread any more with my troubles, and didn't think that it warranted another post in TDS, so I thought that I'd write a quick update about my weekend here.
My grandfather passed away this morning, at around 9:00. He had been fighting cancer since 2001, but in the last couple of years it had slowly been getting the upper hand. He fought it though, tooth and nail. Did whatever it took to keep it at bay: surgery, chemo, radiation, diets, alternative therapies, often all at once. He used to box in his youth, and he always had that fighting spirit-- determined not to go gentle into that good night.
In the last couple of months though, things were getting worse. The cancer had spread everywhere, and he was in a lot of pain. A change in his meds kept it at bay over Easter, but he began getting worse soon after. Soon he could barely get out of bed. A few days ago, his health nosedove (nosedived? I dunno). He was fully bedridden, taking massive amounts of painkillers, and could still barely tell what was going on through the fog of his pain.
This morning though, he was a bit peaceful. When he went, he was calm, and that was that. All the local family that were planning on coming anyway came soon, and we were able to say goodbye. Everyone was a wreck, but it was better that he was able to pass at home. He loved that place, and there was always family around. Plus it made us easier for us to grieve without others around.
Two moments stood out as being particularly tough: kissing him goodbye on his forehead, when he was already cold, and watching him being taken to the funeral home.
Over the course of the day though, everyone helped each other out, and we were able to get a bit better. We're taking turns staying with my Grandmother so that she won't be alone for a while, I'm still not sure yet when my turn will be. Right now I'm exhausted, and just want to sleep. Tomorrow will be tough, funeral arrangements have to be made, and we need to organize how we're going to take care of Baba. But that's for tomorrow. Now we sleep.
I'll always love and remember you Dido. I'm glad that you're finally at peace.
My grandfather passed away this morning, at around 9:00. He had been fighting cancer since 2001, but in the last couple of years it had slowly been getting the upper hand. He fought it though, tooth and nail. Did whatever it took to keep it at bay: surgery, chemo, radiation, diets, alternative therapies, often all at once. He used to box in his youth, and he always had that fighting spirit-- determined not to go gentle into that good night.
In the last couple of months though, things were getting worse. The cancer had spread everywhere, and he was in a lot of pain. A change in his meds kept it at bay over Easter, but he began getting worse soon after. Soon he could barely get out of bed. A few days ago, his health nosedove (nosedived? I dunno). He was fully bedridden, taking massive amounts of painkillers, and could still barely tell what was going on through the fog of his pain.
This morning though, he was a bit peaceful. When he went, he was calm, and that was that. All the local family that were planning on coming anyway came soon, and we were able to say goodbye. Everyone was a wreck, but it was better that he was able to pass at home. He loved that place, and there was always family around. Plus it made us easier for us to grieve without others around.
Two moments stood out as being particularly tough: kissing him goodbye on his forehead, when he was already cold, and watching him being taken to the funeral home.
Over the course of the day though, everyone helped each other out, and we were able to get a bit better. We're taking turns staying with my Grandmother so that she won't be alone for a while, I'm still not sure yet when my turn will be. Right now I'm exhausted, and just want to sleep. Tomorrow will be tough, funeral arrangements have to be made, and we need to organize how we're going to take care of Baba. But that's for tomorrow. Now we sleep.
I'll always love and remember you Dido. I'm glad that you're finally at peace.
Am sad because I'm dying for some company. I miss Erik. Brendan has me all reved up sexually, but without any idea of whether he will do something about it or not. I can't take much more. He knows and I told him that Erik is my number 1, I wear his ring and his tatts, but sexually I've been out of circulation for so damn long, how the fuck am I to help teach a younger guy? I can't now and to be honest, I don't want Erik to EVER feel obligated to do anything he does NOT want to do. Erik is my life long soul mate in terms of the friendship bond we created so long
ago. Sexually and romantically, Brendan is someone from the past I can't seem to find here that takes his time, is older, and wants me as much as I want him....but only as a secret lover on the side. Mom asked me recently what it is that I want. "Brendan is being very deceitful, you know," she told me. She was referring to him being married, being a sex addict and fooling around on his wife. "Yes, I know this, but I don't want to hook up with a man JUST for sex, but at the same time, I DON'T want a permanent full time relationship! No matter how hard I look, I can't find that anywhere else," I said.
"At your age, you're not going to find it," she said. "Most women want to settle down." "My point, exactly," I said. Ever since getting re hooked on drugs and now wanting sex, my life has been all sorts of contradictions. Going through W/D's on and off of course don't help. I got angry with Brendan too because I need messages from him once in a while that have more to talk about than sex, so I backed way off. He noticed a bit, said I must be very busy, but I did send him Birthday wishes and we did talk about a lot of things, got our communication completely open and honest about what we want sexually. That is the first time I think that I've dared to finally spill the beans to him about everything....and I was nervous as hell even though I knew in advance that he wouldn't judge
me....even under the influence of meth. So, I finally just said it and of course he said, sure he'd be happy to comply with what I want. It's new to him and different, as were a couple other things he'd never tried before me.....I was his first shaved lady, now he only likes shaved women. I was also the first he ever tried anal with.
So I asked him what HE wanted and he said just about anything, but don't ask him for a 3 way with another man. That's fine with me. I only want one man at a time. I noticed he didn't say anything about the other type of 3 way so I asked him if he'd ever had 2 women at once...the ultimate straight man's fantasy for most guys I think...he said no. I told him I had no problem giving that to him, but don't know any women in Dublin. I guess he's not flying out here, but wants me to come to Dublin. The subject of whether or not he plans on flying me out has yet to be discussed, but obviously if he can't or won't, then it's not gonna happen. What is frustrating is having my mind all fired up but no outlet, and not knowing where this is gonna go. He said his fantasy was for me to find a woman for him in Dublin so he could have 2 of us. The only way I can do that I told him was to go to Adult Friend Finder, so I made a profile for us....then one for just myself.
I doubt I'll ever find it, but out of desperation I thought I'd try. I explained what I looked like, what I want, BUT that nothing will happen unless my mind is turned on first. That, and the fact that on the profile, there is a section that asks about drinking/smoking/AND recreational drugs. On my profile, I put the truth. Non smoker, non drinker, but drug user. That appealed to me because of not having to keep that issue in the closet. In order to be with anyone, I NEED to have either a little meth or a little X. So there it is, right out in the open. I put this blog on AFF. As usual, it most likely deviates like hell from the norm, but here it is:
6/1/2009
I'm not sure that this is a good idea. I mean I'm new to this and want to figure out how the hell to get my fuckin picture off this blog, although it's not like I'm ashamed of it or anything. It's more of an issue of being cautious, I guess. I'm a writer and I have had and still have a very colorful life. It's the kind of life, I guess that others are likely to want to buy at a book store, but not necessarily have.
I've always been the hopeless romantic sort, idealistic for sure. I'm VERY imaginative, creative, and intelligent, but to be honest tend to be happier in my own world, than that of day to day reality. It's GREAT as far as writing is concerned, but tends to cause a bit of trouble in day to day life, unless I remain focused and constantly vigilant catering to the dull and boring responsibilities of day to day life. In some ways, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my entire life.
I'm well into middle age, but others have told me I still have it going on in the looks department, and for a woman, that's ALWAYS good to hear. When I was younger, I always carried around an extra 15-20 lbs and couldn't seem to get rid of them. Consequently, I felt about as attractive as a cow, even though looking back I wasn't really. It was all in my head. It's ironic that now, I feel the most attractive ever, in spite of the beginnings of a face line, greys at the temples, near sightedness, and being overweight.
I got clean and sober for 2 and 1/2 years, then gained 100 lbs. Being clean had it's advantages, but as far as my looks went, I had accepted the fact that they were gone forever, due only to the weight. A couple months back I started recreational stimulants again, on and off. I've dropped and managed to maintain my 50 lb weight loss, and in spite of the fact that I am still 50 lbs overweight, at a size 16, 5'8" and 187 lbs, wearing the right clothes, hair, and make up really DOES help.
In part I have my long time close girl friend Aimee to thank for that, because she convinced me that I do not have to wear old lady fat clothes. She let me borrow some of hers, we took pictures and for the first time in almost 3 years I FELT hot. I immediately started getting attention from others as well, simply because my mental attitude about myself had changed. Also, since I was stuck being a size 22 for over 2 years, I will NEVER complain about being a size 16 again and not obsess about HAVING to get back down to a respectable, slim size 8, or VERY thin size 4-5.
The smallest adult weight I've ever been was 120 lbs from a diet of daily meth or diet pills, or close to that anyway. Originally I was a cushy 150-160 lbs, size 12-14 with a bra size of 36C, then shrank down to a size 4-6, to a bra size of 34B. Then the oppisite occured after the massive weight gain. My tits grew to some rediculously enormous size of 42DD and are still that size. So, instead of obsessing over it, I kick back and laugh about it. My boyfriend sure loves the FUCK out of them!
I met Branden in Feb 2001 on the internet. He is a bit older than I am, plus the men in Dublin tend to be a bit slower paced than the men in So Cali, meaning he didn't start talking about sex right away, but was instead sensual and romantic as hell. This of course, appealed IMMENSELY to my idealistic, romantic nature. I love my job, but have pretty much earned shit wages. I'd rather take less money doing what I love than earn a 6 digit income a year, but having to eat, sleep, and drink my damned job for anything but a temporary period.
The down side, of course, is that although I don't require very much to be happy, in times when money REALLY would make a difference enabling me to travel back and forth to Dublin 3 or 4 times a year, I can't. He flew me out there for a one week affair. That's the farthest I've ever traveled, I guess 5000 miles for a date and for the best sex I've ever had. We kept in touch, but the distance became a strain, and I got my heart broken when he found someone closer to home.
He told me he'd understand if I never wanted to speak to him again, and although the anger in me shouted, FUCK YOU, the forgiving nature of myself prevailed, so we kept in touch by email off and on. At the time I met him, I had kept my meth use to every 90 to 120 days only, at which time I allowed myself 5 days to party, 2 days to recover, but did not drive, work, or leave wherever I was at while high in order to avoid trouble.
This in turn reduced the sting of constant obsession that is a trademark of drug users, in the since that I told myself, that the abstinence is NOT forever, but curtailed. Had I not been following such a schedule, I never could have left the state, let alone the country to be without dope, and for me, that was and is a miracle. The other irony is that Brendan is as straight laced as they come on the subject of anything but occasional alcohol.
He did find out once, by accident, (long story) that I had been a recreational user. The thing was though is that I met him sober, talked to him sober, both on line and off, but he got really freaked out and made me assure him I was over it. As far as he is concerned I was and I am, and I DID try the total abstinence kick for 2 and 1/2 years. I'm not recommending drugs by and means, but the fact is, is that meth feels like bringing an amuzement park home complete with all the roller coaster rides to me instead of me going to it. There is no waiting in line either, haha.
ago. Sexually and romantically, Brendan is someone from the past I can't seem to find here that takes his time, is older, and wants me as much as I want him....but only as a secret lover on the side. Mom asked me recently what it is that I want. "Brendan is being very deceitful, you know," she told me. She was referring to him being married, being a sex addict and fooling around on his wife. "Yes, I know this, but I don't want to hook up with a man JUST for sex, but at the same time, I DON'T want a permanent full time relationship! No matter how hard I look, I can't find that anywhere else," I said.
"At your age, you're not going to find it," she said. "Most women want to settle down." "My point, exactly," I said. Ever since getting re hooked on drugs and now wanting sex, my life has been all sorts of contradictions. Going through W/D's on and off of course don't help. I got angry with Brendan too because I need messages from him once in a while that have more to talk about than sex, so I backed way off. He noticed a bit, said I must be very busy, but I did send him Birthday wishes and we did talk about a lot of things, got our communication completely open and honest about what we want sexually. That is the first time I think that I've dared to finally spill the beans to him about everything....and I was nervous as hell even though I knew in advance that he wouldn't judge
me....even under the influence of meth. So, I finally just said it and of course he said, sure he'd be happy to comply with what I want. It's new to him and different, as were a couple other things he'd never tried before me.....I was his first shaved lady, now he only likes shaved women. I was also the first he ever tried anal with.
So I asked him what HE wanted and he said just about anything, but don't ask him for a 3 way with another man. That's fine with me. I only want one man at a time. I noticed he didn't say anything about the other type of 3 way so I asked him if he'd ever had 2 women at once...the ultimate straight man's fantasy for most guys I think...he said no. I told him I had no problem giving that to him, but don't know any women in Dublin. I guess he's not flying out here, but wants me to come to Dublin. The subject of whether or not he plans on flying me out has yet to be discussed, but obviously if he can't or won't, then it's not gonna happen. What is frustrating is having my mind all fired up but no outlet, and not knowing where this is gonna go. He said his fantasy was for me to find a woman for him in Dublin so he could have 2 of us. The only way I can do that I told him was to go to Adult Friend Finder, so I made a profile for us....then one for just myself.
I doubt I'll ever find it, but out of desperation I thought I'd try. I explained what I looked like, what I want, BUT that nothing will happen unless my mind is turned on first. That, and the fact that on the profile, there is a section that asks about drinking/smoking/AND recreational drugs. On my profile, I put the truth. Non smoker, non drinker, but drug user. That appealed to me because of not having to keep that issue in the closet. In order to be with anyone, I NEED to have either a little meth or a little X. So there it is, right out in the open. I put this blog on AFF. As usual, it most likely deviates like hell from the norm, but here it is:
6/1/2009
I'm not sure that this is a good idea. I mean I'm new to this and want to figure out how the hell to get my fuckin picture off this blog, although it's not like I'm ashamed of it or anything. It's more of an issue of being cautious, I guess. I'm a writer and I have had and still have a very colorful life. It's the kind of life, I guess that others are likely to want to buy at a book store, but not necessarily have.
I've always been the hopeless romantic sort, idealistic for sure. I'm VERY imaginative, creative, and intelligent, but to be honest tend to be happier in my own world, than that of day to day reality. It's GREAT as far as writing is concerned, but tends to cause a bit of trouble in day to day life, unless I remain focused and constantly vigilant catering to the dull and boring responsibilities of day to day life. In some ways, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my entire life.
I'm well into middle age, but others have told me I still have it going on in the looks department, and for a woman, that's ALWAYS good to hear. When I was younger, I always carried around an extra 15-20 lbs and couldn't seem to get rid of them. Consequently, I felt about as attractive as a cow, even though looking back I wasn't really. It was all in my head. It's ironic that now, I feel the most attractive ever, in spite of the beginnings of a face line, greys at the temples, near sightedness, and being overweight.
I got clean and sober for 2 and 1/2 years, then gained 100 lbs. Being clean had it's advantages, but as far as my looks went, I had accepted the fact that they were gone forever, due only to the weight. A couple months back I started recreational stimulants again, on and off. I've dropped and managed to maintain my 50 lb weight loss, and in spite of the fact that I am still 50 lbs overweight, at a size 16, 5'8" and 187 lbs, wearing the right clothes, hair, and make up really DOES help.
In part I have my long time close girl friend Aimee to thank for that, because she convinced me that I do not have to wear old lady fat clothes. She let me borrow some of hers, we took pictures and for the first time in almost 3 years I FELT hot. I immediately started getting attention from others as well, simply because my mental attitude about myself had changed. Also, since I was stuck being a size 22 for over 2 years, I will NEVER complain about being a size 16 again and not obsess about HAVING to get back down to a respectable, slim size 8, or VERY thin size 4-5.
The smallest adult weight I've ever been was 120 lbs from a diet of daily meth or diet pills, or close to that anyway. Originally I was a cushy 150-160 lbs, size 12-14 with a bra size of 36C, then shrank down to a size 4-6, to a bra size of 34B. Then the oppisite occured after the massive weight gain. My tits grew to some rediculously enormous size of 42DD and are still that size. So, instead of obsessing over it, I kick back and laugh about it. My boyfriend sure loves the FUCK out of them!
I met Branden in Feb 2001 on the internet. He is a bit older than I am, plus the men in Dublin tend to be a bit slower paced than the men in So Cali, meaning he didn't start talking about sex right away, but was instead sensual and romantic as hell. This of course, appealed IMMENSELY to my idealistic, romantic nature. I love my job, but have pretty much earned shit wages. I'd rather take less money doing what I love than earn a 6 digit income a year, but having to eat, sleep, and drink my damned job for anything but a temporary period.
The down side, of course, is that although I don't require very much to be happy, in times when money REALLY would make a difference enabling me to travel back and forth to Dublin 3 or 4 times a year, I can't. He flew me out there for a one week affair. That's the farthest I've ever traveled, I guess 5000 miles for a date and for the best sex I've ever had. We kept in touch, but the distance became a strain, and I got my heart broken when he found someone closer to home.
He told me he'd understand if I never wanted to speak to him again, and although the anger in me shouted, FUCK YOU, the forgiving nature of myself prevailed, so we kept in touch by email off and on. At the time I met him, I had kept my meth use to every 90 to 120 days only, at which time I allowed myself 5 days to party, 2 days to recover, but did not drive, work, or leave wherever I was at while high in order to avoid trouble.
This in turn reduced the sting of constant obsession that is a trademark of drug users, in the since that I told myself, that the abstinence is NOT forever, but curtailed. Had I not been following such a schedule, I never could have left the state, let alone the country to be without dope, and for me, that was and is a miracle. The other irony is that Brendan is as straight laced as they come on the subject of anything but occasional alcohol.
He did find out once, by accident, (long story) that I had been a recreational user. The thing was though is that I met him sober, talked to him sober, both on line and off, but he got really freaked out and made me assure him I was over it. As far as he is concerned I was and I am, and I DID try the total abstinence kick for 2 and 1/2 years. I'm not recommending drugs by and means, but the fact is, is that meth feels like bringing an amuzement park home complete with all the roller coaster rides to me instead of me going to it. There is no waiting in line either, haha.
Ok so I don't have much time. I drive to Irvine, only to have to turn around and come all the way back. Linda called and told me she had a $20 RIGHT there, and I said YEAH! The problem was too was that I thought I'd pick up in Irvine, and then am told, "no I have to go get it." U-turn right then, right there. That most likely met, front money again and get screwed. I can't do that when the money is half someone else's that told me NOT to do that. Lost track of time, but got to Linda's, was told that yeah Aimee and Don played me AND then played Linda for $30, so Cody beat the crap out of Don and demanded that he and his mother Aimee leave. The cops came with social services....it was a HUGE fuckin mess. Linda whipped out a line and YESS....Goddamn I finally felt HUMAN again! It occured to me too, that every night I've smelled gas that comes and goes where I work. What if THAT has been the source of my damned chronic fatigue? Because after 12 days of not doing meth I should have felt back to normal, and the Doc couldn't find anything wrong in my blood work. The Vietnamese family I work for had taken the stove and oven out of the kitchen, moved to garage, but not professionally. My patient's dad did it himself. It looks like some half assed tweeker fucked around with it. Anyway, Christ, I think there might be a leak or something. That would explain ALOT. I was PISSED to read yahoo is removing 360. FUCK. I wish people would leave shit alone when they work fine instead of making dumb ass changes that suck for almost everyone! Soon, I'll have to go and just journal on the PC, fuck the web, as I'm at the mercy of constant changes by dick heads. I feel so relieved to feel fuckin NORMAL, like my old self again. I went out and got 2 work tops with Cody and Linda. Then we each gambled $20 on those damned lottery tickets. Cody and his motley crew of bad boys were over, you can see them. Never a dull moment in that place. I freaked when I heard the cops came and were comin.....later days guys...big drama as usual. Now they are after Aimee's ass big time, but hopefully can sort this out in Irvine tomorrow after work.
Got on suboxone, took 4mg today. feel great. sleepy now though, its 11:30-ish.
Posting just cause I said I'd keep a blog, someone might actually expect me to follow through LOL. doubt it, but why not do it anyway, shit, maybe it'll help in the long run.
anyway, I'm fuckin' sleepy, so I'm outta here. we'll keep this one short and sweet
'twas a good motherfuckin' day.
goodnite bloolite.
-dP
Posting just cause I said I'd keep a blog, someone might actually expect me to follow through LOL. doubt it, but why not do it anyway, shit, maybe it'll help in the long run.
anyway, I'm fuckin' sleepy, so I'm outta here. we'll keep this one short and sweet
'twas a good motherfuckin' day.
goodnite bloolite.
-dP
I used to have my old journal on live journal but then it turned into me just talking abotu drugs all day long so I decided I would place it in a more appropriate place. It's random babbling that makes no sense.
I am the wet brown leaves choking the green grass in the backyard of an autumn forgotten. I am the toe cutting chipped staircase to the torn screen door, of the linoleum kitchen floor. I am the budget melamine kitchenette table, and faded plastic chairs at breakfast. I am the ever-sharpening nail heads rising from aluminium plates covering carpet meeting tile. I am the peeling white paint of the warped doorframe of the bathroom of powder blue tiles. I am the faded stickers of dogs and doe-eyed children stuck to them. I am the corroded metal taps that creak and groan, and are slow to deliver. I am the heat that a red face and be blamed on. I am the tears disguised by the water, of the bath that we cry in, at the end of the day. When it is better to cry alone, than to be comforted by those who just don't understand.
I get hungry so I drink juice. Orange, strawberry, banana, two two quart bottles for five dollars made by Dole. Drink your fruit today. I want to do things but I don't. I want to make love so I jerk off. I want to make money so I sleep. Somebody outside somewhere plays with their children and their dogs and they make noise and laugh and have a good time and life is good and I think hey, I want those. It's light outside and then it's not. The birds chirp like brainless twits and then they don't. It's getting dark out and the noise outside morphs into just the passing by of cars. Swoooosh. Swoooosh. Swoooosh. A dog barks. For the next half hour a dog barks. I dig around in a box stashed under the bed and I find it, some sort of gun. I shoot the dog in the ass and it whimpers. I shoot the dog again and
The real me does not exist in this dimension. I have no name for what dimension I truly exist in.
What happens to the true me when my mind is bound by time and space. Do I even know that I don't exist???
Sometimes, I think I do.
And I'm okay with that... for now
What happens to the true me when my mind is bound by time and space. Do I even know that I don't exist???
Sometimes, I think I do.
And I'm okay with that... for now
So, today I felt as weak and shitty as I have in recent memory. I approached my parents and asked for financial help going back to school. In return I was greeted with enthusiasm and a guarantee. Today I faced comparison with my younger brother and was presented with several unacceptable hoops to jump through to get that financial help. FML. Would've been easier saying no in the first place.
otay well these are some drawing of me, some by slushy muddy water, some by myself and also some drawings by me of my lover slushy muddy water :] come take a look and tell me what you think
sure there's more but thats all you get on short notice bluelight :]
credits: by me.
credits: by me for slushy.
credits: by slushy for me + coloring by meh.
credits: by my slushy mushy.
how good is the X in the southern midwest TX, OK, LA, AR? have never had pills from any of these places and curious as to what kind have been around and if they are good or not
So am trying to deal with this shitty, fucked up feeling again, you know the one where the dope wears off and the kick kicks in...I've been off meth since Monday, the last several days have been hell. Off course Don and Aimee had nothing for me as I expected. I emailed them, told them what a couple of selfish assholes they were, Don more so than Aimee, but with them it's always ME ME ME ME ME. Whatever. I called Susie, not expecting any luck. She said call back after her brother gets off work. Again, not counting on anything, I JUST WANT TO FEEL FUCKING RIGHT FOR A GODDAMNED CHANGE!!! Is that asking for so much? It's true when I was clean for 2 1/2 yrs (until the Tramadol came along) I never had to worry about this crap. Still, being 100 lbs overweight wasn't anywhere near CLOSE to fun either, thank you very much. So, fuck it, I'd rather have to use sometimes and at least maintain my present size 16 or smaller than go back to THAT nightmare. Fuck that all to hell. Sigh. You know what? I'm tired of this whole goddamned game. Life sucks. I'm even angry at Brendan. I'm more than a goddamned piece of meat and have ignored him lately other than the cursory, hi hows it goin. I've got Johnny after my tail, now Youst, 2 members of The Addict Family. Hey at least someone finds me attractive, that's nice, but 1. I don't feel right fucking Johnny, Aimee's ex, and 2. I won't fuck Youst as he has no place of his own and I refused to fuck him in Aimee's back yard last Monday. I'm not 17, I don't fuck people in alley's or ditches, or other people's back yards, I have more class than that. He didn't have money for a motel, so fuck it. All this damned sexual pressure finally got to me from Brendan, all this damn talk yack, yack, yack, enough already. I can't take anymore. Erik is in Van, who knows if or when I'll ever see him again and since almost all addicts are broke, that limits us for travel obviously. I need to get on the horn and schedule appt with Doc for diet pills.
Am afraid. Am up late in the middle of the night, not in my own home. Having minor panick attack. It's after 3 something AM, but am afraid to dare risk driving home for fear of attracting cops, even following ever single law to the letter. It's a holiday. I have 2 be at work at 2pm in fuckin Irvine. I called Mom and lied to her about where I am and what I am doing....Sigh. I HATE lying!!!! God I fucking hate it!! If I didn't though, had I told the truth where I am, she immediately would of known what I am "doing" here. Of all damn things, I said I was having a one night stand of sex with this guy I barely know named Ryan....rather than tell the truth because the names Aimee and Linda mean one thing. Drugs. At the same time, I've had fuckin nightmares about getting pulled over for no good reason, the cops search me and find shit they shouldn't, then for real, I WILL have to permanently check out because I don't have anywhere near the brass balls to even think about going through life, losing my medical career 4 good, just like Aimee. I'll lose my car, everything I worked for, and for what? For a lesson that I got sooo fuckin taken in this time by some scandalous smack heads, though Aimee is my heart and soul friend 4ever...I think it's punishment enough to be out $70, for a dime bag of shit and unreliable permanently off limit connect for speed, have to suffer W/D's, my fault, that's ENOUGH punishment! Yet I want to go home. There is unrest here, even though it's quiet. I'm sad, I fucked up, I'm afraid, I'm broke, I don't want to be in any more trouble please. ..
So what to do? dunno, not sure. What 2 tell Mom if I come home unexpectedly in the middle of the night? She knows that we both know the truth and THAT scares me. God I'm sad, help me, I'm chemically dependent, that's it, nothing more, nothing less. If you're a drug addict in So Cali, though, you are by default also a criminal. Am I? I can't live with drugs. I can't live without them, fuck what now? I wanna try and go home....damn it. 44 y/o broad what a hell of a mess....the sad thing is that even the most scandalous junkies and tweekers have told me I DO have a huge heart....Sadness washes over me in waves because I cannot understand why normies cannot see what only other dope fiends see....I'm really NOT a scandalous criminal....but a woman with a deep sickness of chemical dependency....God help me please pray I make it home safe....
So what to do? dunno, not sure. What 2 tell Mom if I come home unexpectedly in the middle of the night? She knows that we both know the truth and THAT scares me. God I'm sad, help me, I'm chemically dependent, that's it, nothing more, nothing less. If you're a drug addict in So Cali, though, you are by default also a criminal. Am I? I can't live with drugs. I can't live without them, fuck what now? I wanna try and go home....damn it. 44 y/o broad what a hell of a mess....the sad thing is that even the most scandalous junkies and tweekers have told me I DO have a huge heart....Sadness washes over me in waves because I cannot understand why normies cannot see what only other dope fiends see....I'm really NOT a scandalous criminal....but a woman with a deep sickness of chemical dependency....God help me please pray I make it home safe....
Hello BL. This blog post is an attempt to explain myself a little bit, and explain why I am often angry, agitated, and unhappy.
I think of myself as a failure. I have been successful in many things in life (games, sports, hobbies), but when it comes to school and work and life choices, I am a failure. I breezed through a gifted high school easily, and thus developed a habit of doing the minimum amount of work necessary to get by. This did not work when I applied the same approach at a challenging liberal arts college, and I flunked out after 3 semesters with a variety of disciplinary incidents in my file (nothing serious, just minor troublemaking and failure to respect authority).
For the next six years I did nothing productive, though I had a source of money with which to live on. I would make half assed efforts at jobs, though they never worked out, partly because I would get bored and frustrated easily, and partly because I have always had problems with authority. I shouldn’t say I did nothing productive – I cultivated a lot of my lifelong hobbies and interests, stared working out and became very good at racquetball and football, and became a recognized expert at a favorite board. But in terms of life progress, I didn’t progress at all.
Over those years I would self medicate with alcohol and drugs, but I never crossed the line into abuse, though my ecstasy use was pretty close. I have also been on various prescription meds over the years to treat various diagnosed conditions (ADD, depression, bi-polar, anxiety, OCD). Though, I always rejected the notion that I was bi-polar, even though all signs pointed to it. I always seemed to have ADD, but figured that was normal, and that I couldn’t concentrate because the material or work was really boring. When I was interested in something, I would lose track of the world around me and engage in that activity for hours.
The anxiety did not bother me much, because I didn’t have to deal with it. I had a girlfriend and close friends, and I did not need to deal with anyone I didn’t want to. Being borderline OCD didn’t bother me because, well, I think everyone else is weird for not being that way. I keep my place immaculate and have no tolerance for messes or thing being out of place. I like it that way. I do things a specific way and I don’t like interruptions to my routine and my space.
During these six years I did not cultivate any skills in dealing with the real world, interacting only with friends, family, and my girlfriend.
After six years of being this way, I decided to start doing something. I knew my money was running out, and that my girlfriend was losing patience waiting for me to fulfill my potential.
I returned to school and started working part time teaching SAT prep classes. I started over with school, and breezed through three years with a 4.0 average, and became one of my boss’s favorite teachers. I was not drinking often (I had always been a problem drinker) and was not using substances often.
This is where things started to derail. I don’t know if I burned out, if the years of using drugs and alcohol caught up with me, or if I just became more disenchanted with life than usual, but the last 5 years have been a disastrous serious of failures. I spent 7 semesters trying to finish that last year of school in three different programs (math, secondary education, and economics). I got numerous W’s, F’s, D’s, and C’s, and have nothing to show for it except thousands of dollars of debt and a GPA in the low 2’s. I walked away from the actuarial math degree despite crushing the first exam (no one else in my group even passed it). I walked away from the education degree because I couldn’t see myself interacting with teachers, students, and principals, despite the fact that my teaching and tutoring skills have always been praised.
My boss said I could take over his SAT teaching company when he was looking to retire in the very near future. I didn’t even pursue that incredible opportunity.
What did I end up doing? I walked away from all this so I could play online poker professionally. I have always loved games and cards and excelled at them, and I figured, “hey, I can make a living playing a game I enjoy.”
But I have failed, despite making $30 to $50 an hour and having the stats and ability to easily make $60 or $70 an hour. I lack discipline, and the emotional roller coaster of poker sends me to the highest highs and the lowest lows.
When I sit here clicking the mouse taking people’s money online, sometimes I hate myself. I feel guilty, and I feel like a failure. I could have done anything in life, and I am doing this? Taking advantage of people who are too stupid to realize how bad they are at a card game? It’s sad and depressing. But it’s a perfect job for me – I make my own hours and I have no boss. I don’t have to leave my home. And I can outplay and outsmart people and get paid to do it.
But my failure to make as much money as I should weighs on me. I am not getting anywhere, despite the potential to make $100,000 a year playing this game. I am deep in debt and struggling to pay my bills. Financial difficulties forced me to make four changes in my living situation in recent years, all of which were disastrous. I cannot live with people. I just can’t do it. I begin to resent them for things that bother me but that are not their fault. I need to live alone. Temperamental, OCD neat freaks who have a terrible time sleeping and work second shift and sleep at random times should NOT live with people.
But, I cannot afford to live alone. However, I cannot afford not to, because living here is putting me over the edge of insanity. I hate it here so much, and I don’t want to lose two close friends (whom I currently live with). My living situation is making it hard to play poker and my not playing poker is making it impossible to fix my living situation. I feel like I am stuck in a vicious cycle.
I am scared. I have given up much of my hope that I will ever succeed or get myself out of this. I don’t envision a happy future. I think about death a lot. I have physical and emotional pain that I carry with me from the time I wake to the time I go to sleep.
The emotional pain is the result of years of failure, of letting my parents down, letting myself down, letting my friends down, having my heart broken by most of the women I have cared about.
The physical pain is more problematic, as I have carpal tunnel syndrome and have had cubital tunnel syndrome. I had four surgeries for these (one on each wrist and elbow), but I am in constant pain and discomfort. It makes is very difficult to sleep at night, and impossible to sleep comfortably with a woman by my side (I need to sleep with my arms straight out to the sides, or else they start to hurt and I cannot fall asleep).
The pain and discomfort is aggravated by almost every single thing I like to do – games, darts, pool, sports, cards, weights, racquetball, and using the computer. I hate watching TV and don’t like watching movies. I just cannot sit still and I want to be “doing something.” But worst of all, I fear that this will prevent me from playing online poker, such that even if I do get all this other stuff sorted out, I will fail anyway because of this physical limitation. I just don’t know what else to do with my life, and that scares me and leaves me hopelessly depressed and anxious all the time.
I often don’t feel like living any more, though I would never do anything to hurt myself. But I am scared that I have nothing but unhappiness and frustration to look forward to. I am scared that the best times are gone, that my mental and athletic performance at the things I excel at is on the downswing, and will just get worse and worse. I am scared that I will never really fit in to this world; never find my place in society.
I hate leaving the house sometimes, it is just all so overwhelming and frustrating – traffic, hassles, dealing with authority figures who don’t see things my way, dealing with businesses who are trying to squeeze you for every dollar and ripping you off in the process, dealing with women who just hurt me and don’t understand me. I feel distant from my friends and family. Most of the time I don’t understand how they can stand to be around me, yet they care more about me than I do. I am scared that they will realize that I am not worth the trouble and that I will then be truly alone. I am scared that they are going to become parents and have no time for anything except their kids and their careers (This has already started to happen a little bit).
I decided to finally accept that I have bi-polar disorder and get help. I have resisted treatment for years because I was scared. Scared that it would change me, make me someone else, take away my edge, take away the manic highs and just leave the crushing lows. I was scared that I would never know if I was the one pulling myself out of the fog or if it was just the medicine. I was scared of the side effects, that they would mess with my appetite or my (at times) boundless energy or that there would be unpleasant sexual side effects (which there have been in the past with some meds).
But after my recent emotional meltdown, I have decided I cannot continue fighting this on my own. It hasn’t worked. I am going to allow the doctor to prescribe a mood stabilizer and an anti depressant. I am scared and apprehensive, but I am willing to finally give this a real try. I would greatly appreciate it if people would share any experiences they have had with this treatment, or if people would offer advice in general for what I should do at this point in my life, because I truly feel lost.
Thank you.
-FJones
I think of myself as a failure. I have been successful in many things in life (games, sports, hobbies), but when it comes to school and work and life choices, I am a failure. I breezed through a gifted high school easily, and thus developed a habit of doing the minimum amount of work necessary to get by. This did not work when I applied the same approach at a challenging liberal arts college, and I flunked out after 3 semesters with a variety of disciplinary incidents in my file (nothing serious, just minor troublemaking and failure to respect authority).
For the next six years I did nothing productive, though I had a source of money with which to live on. I would make half assed efforts at jobs, though they never worked out, partly because I would get bored and frustrated easily, and partly because I have always had problems with authority. I shouldn’t say I did nothing productive – I cultivated a lot of my lifelong hobbies and interests, stared working out and became very good at racquetball and football, and became a recognized expert at a favorite board. But in terms of life progress, I didn’t progress at all.
Over those years I would self medicate with alcohol and drugs, but I never crossed the line into abuse, though my ecstasy use was pretty close. I have also been on various prescription meds over the years to treat various diagnosed conditions (ADD, depression, bi-polar, anxiety, OCD). Though, I always rejected the notion that I was bi-polar, even though all signs pointed to it. I always seemed to have ADD, but figured that was normal, and that I couldn’t concentrate because the material or work was really boring. When I was interested in something, I would lose track of the world around me and engage in that activity for hours.
The anxiety did not bother me much, because I didn’t have to deal with it. I had a girlfriend and close friends, and I did not need to deal with anyone I didn’t want to. Being borderline OCD didn’t bother me because, well, I think everyone else is weird for not being that way. I keep my place immaculate and have no tolerance for messes or thing being out of place. I like it that way. I do things a specific way and I don’t like interruptions to my routine and my space.
During these six years I did not cultivate any skills in dealing with the real world, interacting only with friends, family, and my girlfriend.
After six years of being this way, I decided to start doing something. I knew my money was running out, and that my girlfriend was losing patience waiting for me to fulfill my potential.
I returned to school and started working part time teaching SAT prep classes. I started over with school, and breezed through three years with a 4.0 average, and became one of my boss’s favorite teachers. I was not drinking often (I had always been a problem drinker) and was not using substances often.
This is where things started to derail. I don’t know if I burned out, if the years of using drugs and alcohol caught up with me, or if I just became more disenchanted with life than usual, but the last 5 years have been a disastrous serious of failures. I spent 7 semesters trying to finish that last year of school in three different programs (math, secondary education, and economics). I got numerous W’s, F’s, D’s, and C’s, and have nothing to show for it except thousands of dollars of debt and a GPA in the low 2’s. I walked away from the actuarial math degree despite crushing the first exam (no one else in my group even passed it). I walked away from the education degree because I couldn’t see myself interacting with teachers, students, and principals, despite the fact that my teaching and tutoring skills have always been praised.
My boss said I could take over his SAT teaching company when he was looking to retire in the very near future. I didn’t even pursue that incredible opportunity.
What did I end up doing? I walked away from all this so I could play online poker professionally. I have always loved games and cards and excelled at them, and I figured, “hey, I can make a living playing a game I enjoy.”
But I have failed, despite making $30 to $50 an hour and having the stats and ability to easily make $60 or $70 an hour. I lack discipline, and the emotional roller coaster of poker sends me to the highest highs and the lowest lows.
When I sit here clicking the mouse taking people’s money online, sometimes I hate myself. I feel guilty, and I feel like a failure. I could have done anything in life, and I am doing this? Taking advantage of people who are too stupid to realize how bad they are at a card game? It’s sad and depressing. But it’s a perfect job for me – I make my own hours and I have no boss. I don’t have to leave my home. And I can outplay and outsmart people and get paid to do it.
But my failure to make as much money as I should weighs on me. I am not getting anywhere, despite the potential to make $100,000 a year playing this game. I am deep in debt and struggling to pay my bills. Financial difficulties forced me to make four changes in my living situation in recent years, all of which were disastrous. I cannot live with people. I just can’t do it. I begin to resent them for things that bother me but that are not their fault. I need to live alone. Temperamental, OCD neat freaks who have a terrible time sleeping and work second shift and sleep at random times should NOT live with people.
But, I cannot afford to live alone. However, I cannot afford not to, because living here is putting me over the edge of insanity. I hate it here so much, and I don’t want to lose two close friends (whom I currently live with). My living situation is making it hard to play poker and my not playing poker is making it impossible to fix my living situation. I feel like I am stuck in a vicious cycle.
I am scared. I have given up much of my hope that I will ever succeed or get myself out of this. I don’t envision a happy future. I think about death a lot. I have physical and emotional pain that I carry with me from the time I wake to the time I go to sleep.
The emotional pain is the result of years of failure, of letting my parents down, letting myself down, letting my friends down, having my heart broken by most of the women I have cared about.
The physical pain is more problematic, as I have carpal tunnel syndrome and have had cubital tunnel syndrome. I had four surgeries for these (one on each wrist and elbow), but I am in constant pain and discomfort. It makes is very difficult to sleep at night, and impossible to sleep comfortably with a woman by my side (I need to sleep with my arms straight out to the sides, or else they start to hurt and I cannot fall asleep).
The pain and discomfort is aggravated by almost every single thing I like to do – games, darts, pool, sports, cards, weights, racquetball, and using the computer. I hate watching TV and don’t like watching movies. I just cannot sit still and I want to be “doing something.” But worst of all, I fear that this will prevent me from playing online poker, such that even if I do get all this other stuff sorted out, I will fail anyway because of this physical limitation. I just don’t know what else to do with my life, and that scares me and leaves me hopelessly depressed and anxious all the time.
I often don’t feel like living any more, though I would never do anything to hurt myself. But I am scared that I have nothing but unhappiness and frustration to look forward to. I am scared that the best times are gone, that my mental and athletic performance at the things I excel at is on the downswing, and will just get worse and worse. I am scared that I will never really fit in to this world; never find my place in society.
I hate leaving the house sometimes, it is just all so overwhelming and frustrating – traffic, hassles, dealing with authority figures who don’t see things my way, dealing with businesses who are trying to squeeze you for every dollar and ripping you off in the process, dealing with women who just hurt me and don’t understand me. I feel distant from my friends and family. Most of the time I don’t understand how they can stand to be around me, yet they care more about me than I do. I am scared that they will realize that I am not worth the trouble and that I will then be truly alone. I am scared that they are going to become parents and have no time for anything except their kids and their careers (This has already started to happen a little bit).
I decided to finally accept that I have bi-polar disorder and get help. I have resisted treatment for years because I was scared. Scared that it would change me, make me someone else, take away my edge, take away the manic highs and just leave the crushing lows. I was scared that I would never know if I was the one pulling myself out of the fog or if it was just the medicine. I was scared of the side effects, that they would mess with my appetite or my (at times) boundless energy or that there would be unpleasant sexual side effects (which there have been in the past with some meds).
But after my recent emotional meltdown, I have decided I cannot continue fighting this on my own. It hasn’t worked. I am going to allow the doctor to prescribe a mood stabilizer and an anti depressant. I am scared and apprehensive, but I am willing to finally give this a real try. I would greatly appreciate it if people would share any experiences they have had with this treatment, or if people would offer advice in general for what I should do at this point in my life, because I truly feel lost.
Thank you.
-FJones
Since the Journal is back-- are blogs being done away with?
Or will both remain?
Silly, both a blog and journal... Is there a difference?
-------------------------------------------
Life has been fairly ok. Been stressed from work, but I have visited with many friends this past week, caught up with a few I haven't in some time.
I saw Shpongle on Friday, went to a festival on Saturday, tanning bed Sunday (i am pasty gimme a break!), and today spoke with 3 nice, good strangers about monoatomic gold, illuminati, chelation, health, and all that disgustingly fun stuff. (imo).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I rode my bike home in the pouring rain, with groceries, ice cold wind with just a sweater and jeans.
It was so cold my nipples hurt, and I only stopped shivering an hour ago. Cold to the bone.
I am sure many would say, just now eh?
Life is good, beyond the cynicism, apathy and general intolerance I have befriended.
It tends to be a reliable comrade.
I'd like to say --forgive me to everything, but i don't believe any actually fully--deeply forgive.
No matter how wonderfully enlightened.
Or will both remain?
Silly, both a blog and journal... Is there a difference?
-------------------------------------------
Life has been fairly ok. Been stressed from work, but I have visited with many friends this past week, caught up with a few I haven't in some time.
I saw Shpongle on Friday, went to a festival on Saturday, tanning bed Sunday (i am pasty gimme a break!), and today spoke with 3 nice, good strangers about monoatomic gold, illuminati, chelation, health, and all that disgustingly fun stuff. (imo).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I rode my bike home in the pouring rain, with groceries, ice cold wind with just a sweater and jeans.
It was so cold my nipples hurt, and I only stopped shivering an hour ago. Cold to the bone.
I am sure many would say, just now eh?
Life is good, beyond the cynicism, apathy and general intolerance I have befriended.
It tends to be a reliable comrade.
I'd like to say --forgive me to everything, but i don't believe any actually fully--deeply forgive.
No matter how wonderfully enlightened.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the effects of alcohol, both social and personal. It seems to me that people come to the use of alcohol for a variety of reasons.
I believe the reason people first choose to consume alcohol is simply for the fact that it is a culturally sanctioned substance, it is in a sense a rite of passage for young people making the transition from childhood to adulthood (in fact it is one of the select few rites of passage practiced in 21st century North American culture). This first taste of alcohol gives people a vague understanding of the effects, the advantages and disadvantages and the social etiquette accompanying it. From this point on people will choose to either incorporate or disclude alcohol intoxication from their lives.
In order to proceed with this idea I can no longer rely on speculation as to why other people do or do not use alcohol, I can only state the options and dilemmas and the justification of those options and dilemmas which I encounter in the face of alcohol consumption.
Before I can effectively carry on I feel that I must give a brief personal description allowing you to see how and why I come to the conclusions that will state in this text.
I am inherently somewhat shy and self conscious. I am not a physically imposing person and I am not over confident in my abilities. Instead I hold a self doubting and critical viewpoint in relation to my self and the society in which I reside. Because I am not a physical presence I tend to play to my strengths ( which I believe everyone does in some sense ) and seek virtuosity in the realm of cognitive function.
Humans tend to be social creatures, we enjoy conversing with each other, experiencing with each other and just existing in each other's presence. When I put myself in social situations I have the tendency feel anxious, to question what others may think negatively about about my ideas and to simply disclude myself from verbal communication for fear of ridicule. Of course I do not openly show these attributes because I do not want to be perceived as having weakness, what I do instead is put on a sort of act. I pretend that things that bother me do not, I share in the beliefs of others when inside I may question them, I try to project strength, coolness, happiness, and adjustedness because I think that is what people want to see and I myself want to have seen so that I may pass under the radar of society and not be singled out as different . This I think is a common technique of intellectuals for survival in the social world stemming from the desire of human beings to feel a fitting in and connectedness to the space they inhabit.
Through early life and most of school alcohol does not really embody a factor in social interaction until highschool when one becomes aware of the party scene. The party scene is a very peculiar thing that places value in unusual places. For instance, this scene imparts honor on people who can drink the highest amount of an intoxicating beverage in the shortest duration of time and still remain standing. Even if you can not remain in an upright position and your body induces profuse spewing from the mouth your actions are simply dismissed as comical, set aside as inevitable in the grand scheme of things and forgotten. Accolades are imparted on those who are the loudest, strongest and most obnoxious, while quiet, questioning intellectual individuals are ostracized. This sub-culture is a funny one indeed. This is highschoolean popular culture as I know it. You may come from a different place at a different time where this was or is not the norm, and so you may reject my ideas, I only wish to convey experience as a tool to allow like minds to converge.
The goal of admiration among peers I think is quite high on the to do list of the average person. To feel validation and acceptance is quite an attractive prospect and I myself am rather attracted to it, even though I think that sometimes the easiest way to a possible outcome is not necessarily the best I still sometimes feel like a moth drawn to the flame. Of which I can conceive there are two possible ways to gain respect from ones peers: The first is to defy, reject and bend the wills of those around you collecting disciples who will follow you down your intellectual journey, or to blindly submit to the excepted notions of your time and place. The first of this duality requires much laborious effort, uncertainty and quite possible alienation while the latter requires only hollow belief, self compromisation and offers unwavering acceptance. This poses quite a quandary, and one that I think has plagued many encompassing all time and location. Do you become the self righteous, cynical, misunderstood intellectual, or the slack-jawed, all-accepting un-questioning automaton? The choice is ultimately yours, choose wisely though because the implications are dire.
Now to my dilemmatic options regarding social alcoholiastic tendensations.
I. My first means to an end concerning alcoholiastic tendensations is to simply deliver myself to the ways of the party scene, surrendering my beliefs and embracing the beliefs of the of the whole of alcohol sub-culture.
II. My second ends to a mean is to place myself in a party situation absent of alcohol being just an observer of the current state of affairs. This option is a lonely and disconnected one for I do not feel a connection to the whole based solely on my chemical difference in opposition to the group.
III. My third option is to disclude my self from the party going scene indefinitely eliminating all social contact and forcing myself to drift in my own imagined belief system.
IV. In the final option I can factualize myself moving completely from the party sub-culture, and erasing all of its beliefs intending to use for alcohol for it's cathartic and self realizing psychoactive effects in order to utilize it for my own selfish purposes.
The choice is is mine and it is yours, I am not here to guide you down a path or to even open you up to the path but to simply say that there is a path, choose it as you may. Insanity can be defined as repeating the same pattern over and over again expecting a different result
Question everything and assume nothing and remember that there is no knowledge without experience.
I believe the reason people first choose to consume alcohol is simply for the fact that it is a culturally sanctioned substance, it is in a sense a rite of passage for young people making the transition from childhood to adulthood (in fact it is one of the select few rites of passage practiced in 21st century North American culture). This first taste of alcohol gives people a vague understanding of the effects, the advantages and disadvantages and the social etiquette accompanying it. From this point on people will choose to either incorporate or disclude alcohol intoxication from their lives.
In order to proceed with this idea I can no longer rely on speculation as to why other people do or do not use alcohol, I can only state the options and dilemmas and the justification of those options and dilemmas which I encounter in the face of alcohol consumption.
Before I can effectively carry on I feel that I must give a brief personal description allowing you to see how and why I come to the conclusions that will state in this text.
I am inherently somewhat shy and self conscious. I am not a physically imposing person and I am not over confident in my abilities. Instead I hold a self doubting and critical viewpoint in relation to my self and the society in which I reside. Because I am not a physical presence I tend to play to my strengths ( which I believe everyone does in some sense ) and seek virtuosity in the realm of cognitive function.
Humans tend to be social creatures, we enjoy conversing with each other, experiencing with each other and just existing in each other's presence. When I put myself in social situations I have the tendency feel anxious, to question what others may think negatively about about my ideas and to simply disclude myself from verbal communication for fear of ridicule. Of course I do not openly show these attributes because I do not want to be perceived as having weakness, what I do instead is put on a sort of act. I pretend that things that bother me do not, I share in the beliefs of others when inside I may question them, I try to project strength, coolness, happiness, and adjustedness because I think that is what people want to see and I myself want to have seen so that I may pass under the radar of society and not be singled out as different . This I think is a common technique of intellectuals for survival in the social world stemming from the desire of human beings to feel a fitting in and connectedness to the space they inhabit.
Through early life and most of school alcohol does not really embody a factor in social interaction until highschool when one becomes aware of the party scene. The party scene is a very peculiar thing that places value in unusual places. For instance, this scene imparts honor on people who can drink the highest amount of an intoxicating beverage in the shortest duration of time and still remain standing. Even if you can not remain in an upright position and your body induces profuse spewing from the mouth your actions are simply dismissed as comical, set aside as inevitable in the grand scheme of things and forgotten. Accolades are imparted on those who are the loudest, strongest and most obnoxious, while quiet, questioning intellectual individuals are ostracized. This sub-culture is a funny one indeed. This is highschoolean popular culture as I know it. You may come from a different place at a different time where this was or is not the norm, and so you may reject my ideas, I only wish to convey experience as a tool to allow like minds to converge.
The goal of admiration among peers I think is quite high on the to do list of the average person. To feel validation and acceptance is quite an attractive prospect and I myself am rather attracted to it, even though I think that sometimes the easiest way to a possible outcome is not necessarily the best I still sometimes feel like a moth drawn to the flame. Of which I can conceive there are two possible ways to gain respect from ones peers: The first is to defy, reject and bend the wills of those around you collecting disciples who will follow you down your intellectual journey, or to blindly submit to the excepted notions of your time and place. The first of this duality requires much laborious effort, uncertainty and quite possible alienation while the latter requires only hollow belief, self compromisation and offers unwavering acceptance. This poses quite a quandary, and one that I think has plagued many encompassing all time and location. Do you become the self righteous, cynical, misunderstood intellectual, or the slack-jawed, all-accepting un-questioning automaton? The choice is ultimately yours, choose wisely though because the implications are dire.
Now to my dilemmatic options regarding social alcoholiastic tendensations.
I. My first means to an end concerning alcoholiastic tendensations is to simply deliver myself to the ways of the party scene, surrendering my beliefs and embracing the beliefs of the of the whole of alcohol sub-culture.
II. My second ends to a mean is to place myself in a party situation absent of alcohol being just an observer of the current state of affairs. This option is a lonely and disconnected one for I do not feel a connection to the whole based solely on my chemical difference in opposition to the group.
III. My third option is to disclude my self from the party going scene indefinitely eliminating all social contact and forcing myself to drift in my own imagined belief system.
IV. In the final option I can factualize myself moving completely from the party sub-culture, and erasing all of its beliefs intending to use for alcohol for it's cathartic and self realizing psychoactive effects in order to utilize it for my own selfish purposes.
The choice is is mine and it is yours, I am not here to guide you down a path or to even open you up to the path but to simply say that there is a path, choose it as you may. Insanity can be defined as repeating the same pattern over and over again expecting a different result
Question everything and assume nothing and remember that there is no knowledge without experience.
I think tyrosine is slowly saving my life, its slowly making me feel half-human again. Neuroephedrine ftw!
I really don't care much about anything. Just gotta wait and see. I'm still working on getting into rehab soon.
We'll see...
I'm having a hard time figuring out what happened with me and 'M'. I understand what the reasoning is, I lied about using which violated our trust. This is something that was fixable. She decided it was too much for her and turned her back.
She was probably looking for an out and I handed her one. It just seems like it is so easy for her to walk away.
I'm going to miss her for a long time.
We'll see...
I'm having a hard time figuring out what happened with me and 'M'. I understand what the reasoning is, I lied about using which violated our trust. This is something that was fixable. She decided it was too much for her and turned her back.
She was probably looking for an out and I handed her one. It just seems like it is so easy for her to walk away.
I'm going to miss her for a long time.
So if any of you guys have read any of my old journal entries you'll see that i did try to quit dope. I was in such a miserable placethat i honestly thought i was all better right away.
I relapsed so many times. I did indeed relapse after my last journal entry. I figured Ishould start keeping a new online journal on this blog. It'll prob help me, and could posssibly help another addict.
Right now I am seven months clean. It's a freakin miracle. I relapsed so bad this last time after I started going to N.A. that i ended up suicidal in the hospitals's psych ward. I had a psychotic episode bought on by wihdrawels that led the staff and security to throw me into seclusion, then chain me to the bed in four-point restraints.
Now I am on suboxone. Not a lot of people agree on it but it helps me and it actually keeps me clean. This recovery stuff is not easy. Yea keeping it simple is an easy concept, but living an honest program takes a lot of honesty,openmindedness, and willingness.
It'd be a good idea for me to try to log on to this journal more often and share my experiences, strengths, an hope.
For now I will go,but one last note that I have to say is: if you're a junkie, read "the herion diaries" by Nikki Sixx, the bassist from Motley Crue. You will not believe how much the average person can relate with a rockstar, simply because we are all addicts.![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
I relapsed so many times. I did indeed relapse after my last journal entry. I figured Ishould start keeping a new online journal on this blog. It'll prob help me, and could posssibly help another addict.
Right now I am seven months clean. It's a freakin miracle. I relapsed so bad this last time after I started going to N.A. that i ended up suicidal in the hospitals's psych ward. I had a psychotic episode bought on by wihdrawels that led the staff and security to throw me into seclusion, then chain me to the bed in four-point restraints.
Now I am on suboxone. Not a lot of people agree on it but it helps me and it actually keeps me clean. This recovery stuff is not easy. Yea keeping it simple is an easy concept, but living an honest program takes a lot of honesty,openmindedness, and willingness.
It'd be a good idea for me to try to log on to this journal more often and share my experiences, strengths, an hope.
For now I will go,but one last note that I have to say is: if you're a junkie, read "the herion diaries" by Nikki Sixx, the bassist from Motley Crue. You will not believe how much the average person can relate with a rockstar, simply because we are all addicts.
I think I bring a lot of my depression upon myself. Feeling like "poor me" because my husband's gone, I'm 800 miles away from family, and I get overwhelmed raising our 2 children by myself, at least for now.
I need to concentrate on what is good in my life. Make a list of everything I have to be grateful for. I'm also going back on my meds, Wellbutrin and Prozac... I probably shouldn't have gone off of them.
What I am grateful for:
* I have a wonderful husband who loves me, and would do anything for me. He is my rock, and I love him with all my heart. We've just celebrated our 4th anniversary (though he was in Iraq for that), and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him.
* I have 2 healthy children, though they drive me nuts at times. I love them, and am truly happy I have them.
* I do have some education, I'm an LPN, even though that's a long way from being a nurse practitioner, its more than some have.
* We are financially secure. Finally. This deployment has sucked, but at least the pay is good. We've bought a new car (paid in cash!!!) and paid off debt, and still have a decent savings. Its nice not to live paycheck to paycheck anymore.
* I have family who loves and supports me. I should lean on them more, but I don't like worrying them.
* In less than 2 weeks I'll be at my sister-in-law's, and won't have to be alone all summer. I'll be surrounded by people who understand me, know the struggles I've dealt with, and will help me become more in control of my addictions.
* And my husband has been ordered to drill sergeant school when he comes home! I can't wait, that'll be 3 years that he's non-deployable. The hours suck, but its a hell of a lot better than him being gone for 12 months.
I think those are the main things. I'm human, so I can't expect to always look at the glass as half-full, I know I'll have another feel sorry for myself day, but that's okay. I feel that writing (typing, really) this all down will help me deal with my emotions better. At least I hope it will.
~October
I need to concentrate on what is good in my life. Make a list of everything I have to be grateful for. I'm also going back on my meds, Wellbutrin and Prozac... I probably shouldn't have gone off of them.
What I am grateful for:
* I have a wonderful husband who loves me, and would do anything for me. He is my rock, and I love him with all my heart. We've just celebrated our 4th anniversary (though he was in Iraq for that), and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him.
* I have 2 healthy children, though they drive me nuts at times. I love them, and am truly happy I have them.
* I do have some education, I'm an LPN, even though that's a long way from being a nurse practitioner, its more than some have.
* We are financially secure. Finally. This deployment has sucked, but at least the pay is good. We've bought a new car (paid in cash!!!) and paid off debt, and still have a decent savings. Its nice not to live paycheck to paycheck anymore.
* I have family who loves and supports me. I should lean on them more, but I don't like worrying them.
* In less than 2 weeks I'll be at my sister-in-law's, and won't have to be alone all summer. I'll be surrounded by people who understand me, know the struggles I've dealt with, and will help me become more in control of my addictions.
* And my husband has been ordered to drill sergeant school when he comes home! I can't wait, that'll be 3 years that he's non-deployable. The hours suck, but its a hell of a lot better than him being gone for 12 months.
I think those are the main things. I'm human, so I can't expect to always look at the glass as half-full, I know I'll have another feel sorry for myself day, but that's okay. I feel that writing (typing, really) this all down will help me deal with my emotions better. At least I hope it will.
~October
To my multiple addictions, past and present-
Coke- you fucked up my life. i left everything and everyone i loved because of you. you made me degrade myself by stripping for cash, all those men i let see my body, just for a few extra bucks to buy another bag. you brought me to my rock bottom, but i BEAT YOU!!! and no matter how bad the temptation gets, i'm not going to have anything to do with you ever again. I haven't seen you in over 2 years now, and I hope to not see you for the rest of my life!!!
Opiates- you snuck into my life so slyly, i didn't even realize it. All those doctors giving me meds for every little ache and pain... then you took over, and I made up more and more aches and pains to get you. Chasing after you has fucked up my health insurance, and god knows what you've done to my liver. At the end, you just made me feel like shit. And I thank you for that. You didn't give me the high I wanted anymore, and that made it so much easier to turn my back on you. I left you just over a month ago, and I have no regrets. You suck!
Adderall- You're the one that keeps sucking me in. I binge on you for weeks, then am left depressed, and so fucking tired. I don't know how many times I've been on the verge of a heart attack because of you. I HATE YOU!!! Over the next 3 months I'll have no access to you, and I hope I can become strong enough to say no to you when I return. I hate you I hate you I hate you! You make me hate myself because of the weaknesses you bring out in me. I've finally recovered from my last binge, and I hope to god that that was my LAST binge, period. I want nothing to do with you ever again. Get out of my life!!!!!
~ October
Coke- you fucked up my life. i left everything and everyone i loved because of you. you made me degrade myself by stripping for cash, all those men i let see my body, just for a few extra bucks to buy another bag. you brought me to my rock bottom, but i BEAT YOU!!! and no matter how bad the temptation gets, i'm not going to have anything to do with you ever again. I haven't seen you in over 2 years now, and I hope to not see you for the rest of my life!!!
Opiates- you snuck into my life so slyly, i didn't even realize it. All those doctors giving me meds for every little ache and pain... then you took over, and I made up more and more aches and pains to get you. Chasing after you has fucked up my health insurance, and god knows what you've done to my liver. At the end, you just made me feel like shit. And I thank you for that. You didn't give me the high I wanted anymore, and that made it so much easier to turn my back on you. I left you just over a month ago, and I have no regrets. You suck!
Adderall- You're the one that keeps sucking me in. I binge on you for weeks, then am left depressed, and so fucking tired. I don't know how many times I've been on the verge of a heart attack because of you. I HATE YOU!!! Over the next 3 months I'll have no access to you, and I hope I can become strong enough to say no to you when I return. I hate you I hate you I hate you! You make me hate myself because of the weaknesses you bring out in me. I've finally recovered from my last binge, and I hope to god that that was my LAST binge, period. I want nothing to do with you ever again. Get out of my life!!!!!
~ October
5/26/2009
Am feeling like a complete fucking idiot after what happened and quite numb. I was totally hustled and fucked out of a large chuck of $ (by my standards) and what gets me is that I gave those smack heads $15 to go buy smack. It’s never enough. The greed, never ending need, unfuckingbelievable. As I said before though, I don’t care what their story is, but fucking Don goes and gives $60 for a dime bag so he can supposedly go “reup?” Whatever. Granted, Don did spend 8 and a ½ fucking hrs waiting for the fool in the barrio, trying to call too, but the point is, “Dude if all he said he had was a 20, then just take the 20, give me the 20 bag, but DON’T give him all my goddamned money, I’m pissed, this is bullshit, even if Don is telling the truth, I can’t believe someone is THAT damn dumb.
Had I not been on the damn acid, I’d have NOT found any humor in the situation at all, but again, this is it. No more giving them $10-20 for them 2 take care of me, then STILL get fucked dry….shakes head, sighs. I NEVER had this horseshit go down when I did my own business, NEVER. Yet, I still find myself getting ripped off, making dumb decisions because I’m high, (my weak point) which in the past was always why I’d score directly from whoever, and most of the time head straight to my pad to party. Alone. That way none of this shit ever happened, unless I planned on company and wanted it, but whatever. Am not happy bout being out of $70 and only a $10 bag I got out of it. My fault, but lucky me, get to go through these fucked up W/D’s, thanks guys after spending $ for nothing almost.
This means forced sobriety off meth, or otherwise, sometimes Linda who is actually honest will front me a $20 if she has it, so when I get off work some Tuesdays, she has it ready for me. Aimee and Don, fucking get screwed into an 8 hr wait, as I told Don, “Dude how many fuckin times I told u, do NOT even bother if it’s gonna take til the 2nd coming! Again, whatever. Am very disappointed in those 2 scandalous fuckers, but I did give my problem some thought. Fuck these assholes, I’ll just make an appointment with my Dr., she can see that I’m still 50 or 60 lbs overweight, yes even though all the junkie men tell me I’m very beautiful now in spite of the extra weight because I did drop about 50 lbs, and can wear pretty clothes.
It’s even some normie males that I get attention from walking down the street these days when I dress nice. I’m flattered and happy about that. Brendan LOVES how I look, even better than when I was a respectable size 8. To each his own, but the point is that the doc has a clear record of this God awful obesity over the past 2 and ½ years once I kicked all dope the first time for that amount of time. She was concerned that my B/P was too high when I was clean and 100 lbs obese, but since taking the water pills she gave me, the high B/P is gone. Obviously if I’m not doing shit, it won’t be high at this weight, sooooo seeing as how it’s disgustingly easy to gain 10 lbs in 10 days, I can schedule a doc visit, tell the doc I need help losing weight, maybe she’ll right me an Rx for phentermine.
Even if it’s only 30 pills at a time every 4-6 months, it will help keep me from turning back into a beached fucking whale, good Christ. I’m 80% sure she would Rx me seeing as how I have an obvious need for them, it’s not like I’m some poor malnourished bitch from the Gestapo Camp Heil fucking Hitler, as Lord knows I have plenty of visable lard to spare……so perhaps no more meth, but tone it down to plain amphetamine every so often to lose weight…..legally….and besides actually doing it for a legit medical purpose…..I can just casually tell everyone with a polite smile to go fuck themselves and their scandalous deals can be shoved far up their constipated smack infested assholes…..I’m done. Dunno if they did or didn’t fuck me, will never know, but I will only deal with Linda, if at all anymore and no more than a 20….or I’ll take nothing.
Another forced 12 days or more off speed….the lesser, weaker Rx amphetamine will still work for me and do the trick, only without me getting ripped off, and without this whole sadness going down with my Mom as well. I was sad too, when I got a message from my old sponsor on my space, saying she will always love me no matter what, and she will. Sadly, I’m going to have to email telling her I love her back, but as she most likely guessed by now, I relapsed on Rx painkillers a couple months back. I see no reason to go into any more detail, as that is quite enough, but I cannot go on ignoring her, as I’m not a cruel person. Her heart will be broken, she will cry when she reads the email, but real friends deserve honesty and I will have to write her “there is nothing more you could have done to help me, so please don’t EVER feel that way. It’s like NA says, that addiction is a very clever, patient disease so to speak that did a hell of a job weaseling it’s way right back into my veins.
The Tramadol was too brutal for me to kick when being forced to have to deal with patients, it was HORRIBLE because I felt like crap for months, so eventually I said fuck it, went back to my real painkillers, just to be able to tolerate an easier kick, eventually, if at all. It’s VERY difficult too, as kicking now at 44 is A LOT harder than it was kicking at age 30, and even THAT was no picnic, but it gets soo much harder…If I could take time off work without suffering loss of income, which I would, that would be different, but that’s NOT the case, and I allowed my addiction to weasel it’s way right back into my life, DAMN that was clever how it did that. Mom and family are all ready aware of me breaking my sobriety with the pain pills, of course, in fact, Mom broken hearted said that there were some people that did have to take pills the rest of their lives, and while it makes her sad, she realizes that it is doable.
I do hope that I manage to reduce the intake by 2/3s for good, and hell even at my current high dose of pills now, aside from taking them for legitimate pain….it would act as an opiate replacement therapy, just like some people take Methadone. Am hoping too, that with the Rx phentermine, assuming she says ok, same thing. The dope will be legal, managed, and used for legit legal, medical issues as well. So, that’s my plan. I won’t go into it expecting that she will write the diet pills every so often, but there’s a good chance she might seeing as how she had been willing to before had my B/P been stable. Who the fuck knows, perhaps I might have another stretch of sobriety in the future, never say never. At this point, I would be QUITE happy with a month supply of diet pills every 12-16 wks to manage my weight. Off meth for 12 days, it was hard, but I did limit my meals to every 12 hrs, and no huge portions, though it aggravates me like hell how difficult that was. Sigh. I fucking don’t even want to be bothered with work today, my feelings are hurt, I hate lying to my Mom, and in the long run, quitting meth would be better for me anyway, even if I took a lesser, legal drug. I am so sad things happened the way they did. I feel betrayed, but I also feel a knife in my heart every time I have to deal with Mom over this meth business. Meth head Susie once told me I wasn’t the “scandalous” type. Aimee got upset with me for referring to myself as a “hooker” when I worked the streets for a short time or the escort agencies to pay for drugs.
“You have a HUGE heart, Tanya,” Aimee told me. “I’ve been in prison many years and a hooker to me is someone that will take someone’s every last dime, nickel, and penny for a hit of crack…YOU ARE NOT LIKE THAT AND YOU NEVER WERE!” I didn’t think of it that way, only as an honest way to make money instead of ripping people off, or even selling drugs (that never lasted long.) I love that Aimee can love me, talk to me that way, not even Mom cannot. When I’m using, all she see’s is a person that feels crappy going through W/D’s wanting to be left alone. Sigh. True, but around other addicts, they see my sweet side too, that the chemicals bring out, not just the sickness. When I am high around others that don’t use, I do whatever I can to keep that shit to myself, out of self preservation and to avoid observations/questions…..part of the effort required living a double life. Sad smile. I’m trying to heal my emotional damage. I’m really NOT a cold, mean, person….but I doubt most non addicts can ever really understand that….I’m trying to heal though…sometimes I can even help others, usually strangers with kind words perhaps, or insight, or listening without judgment to soooo many confessions of other’s psychic wounds…..especially at night, those that are under my care often times tell way more than they ever thought they would….I don’t always have answers, but I try to listen without judgment…..
So that’s it for now about me and my demons. The older I get, the more it seems I don’t know….but in my experience, it appears to me that everyone has varying degrees of some forms of mental illness, whatever form they might take…
Am feeling like a complete fucking idiot after what happened and quite numb. I was totally hustled and fucked out of a large chuck of $ (by my standards) and what gets me is that I gave those smack heads $15 to go buy smack. It’s never enough. The greed, never ending need, unfuckingbelievable. As I said before though, I don’t care what their story is, but fucking Don goes and gives $60 for a dime bag so he can supposedly go “reup?” Whatever. Granted, Don did spend 8 and a ½ fucking hrs waiting for the fool in the barrio, trying to call too, but the point is, “Dude if all he said he had was a 20, then just take the 20, give me the 20 bag, but DON’T give him all my goddamned money, I’m pissed, this is bullshit, even if Don is telling the truth, I can’t believe someone is THAT damn dumb.
Had I not been on the damn acid, I’d have NOT found any humor in the situation at all, but again, this is it. No more giving them $10-20 for them 2 take care of me, then STILL get fucked dry….shakes head, sighs. I NEVER had this horseshit go down when I did my own business, NEVER. Yet, I still find myself getting ripped off, making dumb decisions because I’m high, (my weak point) which in the past was always why I’d score directly from whoever, and most of the time head straight to my pad to party. Alone. That way none of this shit ever happened, unless I planned on company and wanted it, but whatever. Am not happy bout being out of $70 and only a $10 bag I got out of it. My fault, but lucky me, get to go through these fucked up W/D’s, thanks guys after spending $ for nothing almost.
This means forced sobriety off meth, or otherwise, sometimes Linda who is actually honest will front me a $20 if she has it, so when I get off work some Tuesdays, she has it ready for me. Aimee and Don, fucking get screwed into an 8 hr wait, as I told Don, “Dude how many fuckin times I told u, do NOT even bother if it’s gonna take til the 2nd coming! Again, whatever. Am very disappointed in those 2 scandalous fuckers, but I did give my problem some thought. Fuck these assholes, I’ll just make an appointment with my Dr., she can see that I’m still 50 or 60 lbs overweight, yes even though all the junkie men tell me I’m very beautiful now in spite of the extra weight because I did drop about 50 lbs, and can wear pretty clothes.
It’s even some normie males that I get attention from walking down the street these days when I dress nice. I’m flattered and happy about that. Brendan LOVES how I look, even better than when I was a respectable size 8. To each his own, but the point is that the doc has a clear record of this God awful obesity over the past 2 and ½ years once I kicked all dope the first time for that amount of time. She was concerned that my B/P was too high when I was clean and 100 lbs obese, but since taking the water pills she gave me, the high B/P is gone. Obviously if I’m not doing shit, it won’t be high at this weight, sooooo seeing as how it’s disgustingly easy to gain 10 lbs in 10 days, I can schedule a doc visit, tell the doc I need help losing weight, maybe she’ll right me an Rx for phentermine.
Even if it’s only 30 pills at a time every 4-6 months, it will help keep me from turning back into a beached fucking whale, good Christ. I’m 80% sure she would Rx me seeing as how I have an obvious need for them, it’s not like I’m some poor malnourished bitch from the Gestapo Camp Heil fucking Hitler, as Lord knows I have plenty of visable lard to spare……so perhaps no more meth, but tone it down to plain amphetamine every so often to lose weight…..legally….and besides actually doing it for a legit medical purpose…..I can just casually tell everyone with a polite smile to go fuck themselves and their scandalous deals can be shoved far up their constipated smack infested assholes…..I’m done. Dunno if they did or didn’t fuck me, will never know, but I will only deal with Linda, if at all anymore and no more than a 20….or I’ll take nothing.
Another forced 12 days or more off speed….the lesser, weaker Rx amphetamine will still work for me and do the trick, only without me getting ripped off, and without this whole sadness going down with my Mom as well. I was sad too, when I got a message from my old sponsor on my space, saying she will always love me no matter what, and she will. Sadly, I’m going to have to email telling her I love her back, but as she most likely guessed by now, I relapsed on Rx painkillers a couple months back. I see no reason to go into any more detail, as that is quite enough, but I cannot go on ignoring her, as I’m not a cruel person. Her heart will be broken, she will cry when she reads the email, but real friends deserve honesty and I will have to write her “there is nothing more you could have done to help me, so please don’t EVER feel that way. It’s like NA says, that addiction is a very clever, patient disease so to speak that did a hell of a job weaseling it’s way right back into my veins.
The Tramadol was too brutal for me to kick when being forced to have to deal with patients, it was HORRIBLE because I felt like crap for months, so eventually I said fuck it, went back to my real painkillers, just to be able to tolerate an easier kick, eventually, if at all. It’s VERY difficult too, as kicking now at 44 is A LOT harder than it was kicking at age 30, and even THAT was no picnic, but it gets soo much harder…If I could take time off work without suffering loss of income, which I would, that would be different, but that’s NOT the case, and I allowed my addiction to weasel it’s way right back into my life, DAMN that was clever how it did that. Mom and family are all ready aware of me breaking my sobriety with the pain pills, of course, in fact, Mom broken hearted said that there were some people that did have to take pills the rest of their lives, and while it makes her sad, she realizes that it is doable.
I do hope that I manage to reduce the intake by 2/3s for good, and hell even at my current high dose of pills now, aside from taking them for legitimate pain….it would act as an opiate replacement therapy, just like some people take Methadone. Am hoping too, that with the Rx phentermine, assuming she says ok, same thing. The dope will be legal, managed, and used for legit legal, medical issues as well. So, that’s my plan. I won’t go into it expecting that she will write the diet pills every so often, but there’s a good chance she might seeing as how she had been willing to before had my B/P been stable. Who the fuck knows, perhaps I might have another stretch of sobriety in the future, never say never. At this point, I would be QUITE happy with a month supply of diet pills every 12-16 wks to manage my weight. Off meth for 12 days, it was hard, but I did limit my meals to every 12 hrs, and no huge portions, though it aggravates me like hell how difficult that was. Sigh. I fucking don’t even want to be bothered with work today, my feelings are hurt, I hate lying to my Mom, and in the long run, quitting meth would be better for me anyway, even if I took a lesser, legal drug. I am so sad things happened the way they did. I feel betrayed, but I also feel a knife in my heart every time I have to deal with Mom over this meth business. Meth head Susie once told me I wasn’t the “scandalous” type. Aimee got upset with me for referring to myself as a “hooker” when I worked the streets for a short time or the escort agencies to pay for drugs.
“You have a HUGE heart, Tanya,” Aimee told me. “I’ve been in prison many years and a hooker to me is someone that will take someone’s every last dime, nickel, and penny for a hit of crack…YOU ARE NOT LIKE THAT AND YOU NEVER WERE!” I didn’t think of it that way, only as an honest way to make money instead of ripping people off, or even selling drugs (that never lasted long.) I love that Aimee can love me, talk to me that way, not even Mom cannot. When I’m using, all she see’s is a person that feels crappy going through W/D’s wanting to be left alone. Sigh. True, but around other addicts, they see my sweet side too, that the chemicals bring out, not just the sickness. When I am high around others that don’t use, I do whatever I can to keep that shit to myself, out of self preservation and to avoid observations/questions…..part of the effort required living a double life. Sad smile. I’m trying to heal my emotional damage. I’m really NOT a cold, mean, person….but I doubt most non addicts can ever really understand that….I’m trying to heal though…sometimes I can even help others, usually strangers with kind words perhaps, or insight, or listening without judgment to soooo many confessions of other’s psychic wounds…..especially at night, those that are under my care often times tell way more than they ever thought they would….I don’t always have answers, but I try to listen without judgment…..
So that’s it for now about me and my demons. The older I get, the more it seems I don’t know….but in my experience, it appears to me that everyone has varying degrees of some forms of mental illness, whatever form they might take…
You would not BELIEVE this motherfucking SURREAL day I've had.....hell I almost don't believe it, then again, notice I said ALMOST? That's for the same reason you'll guessed folks. That the life of yours truly, one Tanya T has never been anything BUT a very vivid Pulp Non Fiction type of story, unlike my very famous, talented, but not even close to livin on the edge as his very real half sister. Yours truly fuckin doesn't need a fiction writer with a bizarre mind to make shit up because my life is so off the wall it doesn't NEED to be made up, and trust me to your last dollar, it is not.
Before we go any further, how do you say "fuck you" in LA? Trust me, haha. That's exactly the theme that sums up this whole insanity in 2 words. "Fuck you" and "trust me." I gotta see the funny side of shit though, and truthfully what made that possible was the fact my very dear friend and fiance Erik sent me one hell of a motherfucker of a trip! And then some. I don't think I have the time to write like I want, but cut to the chase, I spent $70 for a quantity of some good shit right.....I got a motherfuckin dime, haha, joke's on me. The reason is that unlike 2 1/2 yrs ago, so much has changed. I NO longer have direct connects. I have junkies and tweekers for middle men and I got fucked up the ass dry w/o lubrication. Still, I'm a long time veteran junkie, I know how it goes.
I may or may not have been hussled and played like the fool by my friends but even so with well meaning hearts. Dunno if they got fucked, or they're fuckin me, it don't even matter. I took a 1/4 of the trip paper from Kupid, which according to him was 2 hits. Damn good thing I asked a few blogs ago, otherwise I would have done 1/2 of the tab doing 4 hits. Erik, did not lie. That shit knocked me way hard and fast on my ass and then some. I still need to kick back and trip alone in order to get the info I want from these trips, but you know what? I hold nothing against what anyone of them may or may not have done. I was able to laugh about it and say, "Well, at this rate, I guess you guys r gonna cure me of my tweek habit REAL quick." It's true. I spent $70 I don't have to get high, got a dime, shot my shit, at least it worked.
The trip made me see life in it's proper perspective though believe it or not. That's the thing. This trip showed me that I tend to let stupid bullshit make me angry and that there really is no need. It's harder to see and understand that perspective, especially when 12 days sober off meth, wanting sleep 24/7, in spite of the painkillers I've been taking to help ease off the speed. I do know this, I was treated like royalty at Grand Junkie Central Inn for the day/night. "Ah Tanya need ice water? Tanya need cold cloth? Tanya want me to shoot her? Tanya want the fan on?" It was sweet in a way. "Tanya want these sunglasses?" They were the expensive kind, over $100, a pair. "Sure bout that? Really?" "Take them." I may or may not get compensated tomorrow or the next day. Not counting on it.
If it happens fine, if not, I won't have my panties in a wad over stupid bullshit, but damn that means I'll have to quit or find another direct source....Fuck it....don't really know....Had a fun day, went by fast. although I did TOO much acid, those 2 hits were fuckin mega tripn me over the top. I saw shitloads of pastel, bright colors when I'd shut my eyes and the image of whoever I was lookin at was burned into my vision in bright pastels. I told Linda also, that, "I feel as if I'm going into labor, that everytime people come and go in and out of this trip, they are contractions and I feel compelled to push." Linda said, "I know what you mean." "Do you? Did you have to suffer labor at all?" "Yes, 4 or 5 hrs," she said. When in serious pain, that is a long ass fuckin time.
Mom had 26 hrs of hard labor with me, poor thing, but they refused to do C section. And when I terminated a pregnancy back in 1990, it took 3 days to pass, I felt contractions, and it HURT like hell. I found out years later the Tarantino women all had to have C sections cause we're not built to pass a child. Mom was the same way, so I got a double damn dose, fuck. If I'd of had the kid, he'd probably been more brain damaged than I was at birth.....so it's just as well. Neurosurgeon told me I could only ever have C section, otherwise, my birth defect of hydrocephalus could rupture causing severe brain damage, coma, and death. I came into this world damaged goods, my head is my weakness, and had I tried to deliver a normal pregnancy back in 1991.....it would not have been good.
So I wonder in retrospect if these contractions I felt during this trip meant anything....Like deal with people, deal with human issues and expel them, or else I'll just have unresolved damage to try to heal in another life time....No thanks, it's easier to get as much pain and crap over with at once as possible. Still, when I'm not on acid, that doesn't FEEL easy at all. I just want the easy way out, to swallow a handfull of pain pills, park the car in some tight space, let the engine run, go to sleep, nice long slumber of oblivion sounds seductive.....except I know it's a lie. Life is never created, or destroyed, only changes the form it takes which is YOU however you spell it. There is no way out of life. Death is not an escape, although how I've sooo longed for it to be so many times.....
I've always been so much better at running from uncomfortable or painful shit I didn't know how to deal with, rather than take the more difficult way and face, deal, and resolve them. I've been a runner my entire life. I've read that a junkie is nothing more than an experienced escape artist.....In my case it's soooo true. So, for today, I don't have 2 worry about w/d's. Tomorrow? Who knows. I'll let it take care of itself. Half the battle of kicking is being able to accept the fact that there is no way around it, and that I will have to get through it, pain or no pain, fatigue or no fatigue. W/D's, the thought of them make me wail and moan for the fact I'm gonna hurt like hell being separated from the chemical suggestion of ecstasy and bliss. That's a hard damned lover to let go of....as if I lost a 25 year marriage....that's how I felt when I was separated from Mr. Prick for 2 and 1/2 years. The pain, the longing, how I miss him....
Before we go any further, how do you say "fuck you" in LA? Trust me, haha. That's exactly the theme that sums up this whole insanity in 2 words. "Fuck you" and "trust me." I gotta see the funny side of shit though, and truthfully what made that possible was the fact my very dear friend and fiance Erik sent me one hell of a motherfucker of a trip! And then some. I don't think I have the time to write like I want, but cut to the chase, I spent $70 for a quantity of some good shit right.....I got a motherfuckin dime, haha, joke's on me. The reason is that unlike 2 1/2 yrs ago, so much has changed. I NO longer have direct connects. I have junkies and tweekers for middle men and I got fucked up the ass dry w/o lubrication. Still, I'm a long time veteran junkie, I know how it goes.
I may or may not have been hussled and played like the fool by my friends but even so with well meaning hearts. Dunno if they got fucked, or they're fuckin me, it don't even matter. I took a 1/4 of the trip paper from Kupid, which according to him was 2 hits. Damn good thing I asked a few blogs ago, otherwise I would have done 1/2 of the tab doing 4 hits. Erik, did not lie. That shit knocked me way hard and fast on my ass and then some. I still need to kick back and trip alone in order to get the info I want from these trips, but you know what? I hold nothing against what anyone of them may or may not have done. I was able to laugh about it and say, "Well, at this rate, I guess you guys r gonna cure me of my tweek habit REAL quick." It's true. I spent $70 I don't have to get high, got a dime, shot my shit, at least it worked.
The trip made me see life in it's proper perspective though believe it or not. That's the thing. This trip showed me that I tend to let stupid bullshit make me angry and that there really is no need. It's harder to see and understand that perspective, especially when 12 days sober off meth, wanting sleep 24/7, in spite of the painkillers I've been taking to help ease off the speed. I do know this, I was treated like royalty at Grand Junkie Central Inn for the day/night. "Ah Tanya need ice water? Tanya need cold cloth? Tanya want me to shoot her? Tanya want the fan on?" It was sweet in a way. "Tanya want these sunglasses?" They were the expensive kind, over $100, a pair. "Sure bout that? Really?" "Take them." I may or may not get compensated tomorrow or the next day. Not counting on it.
If it happens fine, if not, I won't have my panties in a wad over stupid bullshit, but damn that means I'll have to quit or find another direct source....Fuck it....don't really know....Had a fun day, went by fast. although I did TOO much acid, those 2 hits were fuckin mega tripn me over the top. I saw shitloads of pastel, bright colors when I'd shut my eyes and the image of whoever I was lookin at was burned into my vision in bright pastels. I told Linda also, that, "I feel as if I'm going into labor, that everytime people come and go in and out of this trip, they are contractions and I feel compelled to push." Linda said, "I know what you mean." "Do you? Did you have to suffer labor at all?" "Yes, 4 or 5 hrs," she said. When in serious pain, that is a long ass fuckin time.
Mom had 26 hrs of hard labor with me, poor thing, but they refused to do C section. And when I terminated a pregnancy back in 1990, it took 3 days to pass, I felt contractions, and it HURT like hell. I found out years later the Tarantino women all had to have C sections cause we're not built to pass a child. Mom was the same way, so I got a double damn dose, fuck. If I'd of had the kid, he'd probably been more brain damaged than I was at birth.....so it's just as well. Neurosurgeon told me I could only ever have C section, otherwise, my birth defect of hydrocephalus could rupture causing severe brain damage, coma, and death. I came into this world damaged goods, my head is my weakness, and had I tried to deliver a normal pregnancy back in 1991.....it would not have been good.
So I wonder in retrospect if these contractions I felt during this trip meant anything....Like deal with people, deal with human issues and expel them, or else I'll just have unresolved damage to try to heal in another life time....No thanks, it's easier to get as much pain and crap over with at once as possible. Still, when I'm not on acid, that doesn't FEEL easy at all. I just want the easy way out, to swallow a handfull of pain pills, park the car in some tight space, let the engine run, go to sleep, nice long slumber of oblivion sounds seductive.....except I know it's a lie. Life is never created, or destroyed, only changes the form it takes which is YOU however you spell it. There is no way out of life. Death is not an escape, although how I've sooo longed for it to be so many times.....
I've always been so much better at running from uncomfortable or painful shit I didn't know how to deal with, rather than take the more difficult way and face, deal, and resolve them. I've been a runner my entire life. I've read that a junkie is nothing more than an experienced escape artist.....In my case it's soooo true. So, for today, I don't have 2 worry about w/d's. Tomorrow? Who knows. I'll let it take care of itself. Half the battle of kicking is being able to accept the fact that there is no way around it, and that I will have to get through it, pain or no pain, fatigue or no fatigue. W/D's, the thought of them make me wail and moan for the fact I'm gonna hurt like hell being separated from the chemical suggestion of ecstasy and bliss. That's a hard damned lover to let go of....as if I lost a 25 year marriage....that's how I felt when I was separated from Mr. Prick for 2 and 1/2 years. The pain, the longing, how I miss him....