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It's easy to ignore words. Bloody gaping wounds on the other hand are much less subtle. Ive fallen into the habit of self harm lately. Started with giving myself a scar tattoo and now I'm just slicing myself watch a razor blade. Bad habit. The period before the pain is Nirvana it's like the world freezes it's just me and the blood. Shiny red beautiful life force drained from my arm. I love it. I feel so alive in those moments.

August 22nd,2016 I checked myself into detox here in louisville,ky, and as many of you know I am born and raised in the great state of Alabama. So checking myself into detox in a strange city and state was something new for me. I had no where else to turn at the time, no idea what to do, except for find another drink. This time I can defiantly call myself an alcoholic because of the amount of liquor,beer,mouthwash and hand sanitizer that i drank on a daily basis. I was part of a 'tent community', and thought i had arrived. I didn't really always drink like the way I was, I would consider myself a drug addict just because I loved drugs, the drinking for me didn't start off until 12/2015 when I first became 'homeless' in jeffersonville,indianna. it was cold out, and the snow was almost up to my knees, and living on the streets there really was no where to go and do, except for finding the liquor store, and bumming enough money for a pint. i thought that the more i panhandled, the better it would pay off, meaning i could buy a half a pint for almost 2bucks, a pint for almost 4, and 5th for almost 7, and a litre for almost ten bucks, so thats what i did everyday, i pan handled enough t get that 10 dollar bottle of liquor, and usually my night ended with me curling up in a recycle/cardboard dumpster behind stores. sometimes i was lucky to invite others to share the bottle with me and that was only if they had a tent, or something to the table. 98% of the time i would drink alone, because everyone i really hung around with were drug addicts, and mostly spent their money on meth and heroin. dont get me wrong, i would have done the same thing except for the fact that my 10 bucks can go a long way, compared to spending ten on a bag of dope. ten bucks gave me enough drink to drink a night, and the next morning, and i would always drink myself into black outs.there was no 'nursing' my drink, even when it was cold outside. i drank to get fucked up, and drank even more to forget.
there would be times where id wake up drunk behind a building without wearing any shoes, and have to go the entire day, sometimes day(s) until i could find a pair of shoes in the trash. I never had a thought of 'this shit is getting out of hand', the only time when i'd sober up is when the police were called on me, for passing out on a park bench, or being non-responsive at different buildings, so the cops would show up, and they knew who i was by name, so instead of going to jail, they would send me to the local hospital/psych ward, and i would spend about a week there sobering up. while at the hospital the social workers there would help me in trying to get me into a place that offers a recovery program, and to be honest i wasn't wanting to hear it. again and again, they would tell me 'so and so has a bed open, and theres only 1 bed left', and i would agree that i would go there, the would give me a city bus ticket, and have me on my way. well, needless to say i would go and sell that bus ticket for 1 dollar, and call that my 'starter $' in finding another drink.
I was so used to eating my lunch and dinner at churches spread around town, that i really didn't need anything else in life. my meals were provided for, and so was everything else, so all i would need to do is just go find out which church was serving for the day, and go hang out there, i would then get with other people, and get all of our money together, and we would get a bottle of liquor, remind you i am 29, and the guys and women i was hanging around with were in their 50's and 60s, just like me. they loved to drink, so you wouldn't really see me hanging around anyone else then those people if i was hanging around anyone at all.
that was the start of the end for me, drinking every single day, 3-6 times a day, i would wake up to drink and sleep to drink, at first it was to stay warm during the winter months, then it became a round a clock ordeal during the warmer months. so my last run i was out of options, i was suffering with the shakes, and around 1am i knew the local hospital had hand sanatizer, and 1 of the main ingredients in the stuff is ethyl-alcohol, the same stuff thats found in most liquors, so what the hell. i ended up stealing the shit and drinking it.(not my first time to drink hand sanatizer either, ive been so desperate at times that i would find one of those wall-mounts with hand sanatizer and pump the foam into a cup, over and over,and over, almost 1,000 punches and soon have a bottle worth of enough to drink, and that would take hours to do, sometimes thats all i had going on that day was hang out in restrooms and fill my cup up). So after stealing the bottle of hand sanatizer, i went to my normal spot under the bridge/byduct and knew that this was going to taste like shit, so i had the bright idea to mix a Hawaiian punch powder thing to the bottle and shake it up. i started to drink it, just thinking of it right now has my mouth taste bitter, because tahts what the after taste is like, really bitter. i didn't care, it was better then anything. so fast forward i woke up next to a hooker in a parc and tarc parking lot, at this time i was also 'dating' this chick that we shared a shed together, and haven't talked with her since.' i woke up with the shakes, and this had to be stopped, and the only way to fix those shakes was to get more alcohol.
so went to a local grocery store, and stole 2x 211 beers, thinking that was going to do the trick, well wrong. i ended up drinking 1 and puked it up, it was scary, because the only way to fix these shakes was to drink, and even the drink wasn't working because i would puke it up. its a horrible feeling, i guess you could relate it to doing a shot of heroin or whatever and not feeling better after you d it..so i tried to drink the other one, and it wasn't happening, id take a pull and puke, over and over, and being out in public it makes puking really hard, especially with people out walking their children and dogs around, i had no where else to go, and this alcohol wasn't working, i was getting really scared of my life and my sanity, so this time i went back to the hospital where i was at so many times before, and told them what i did, and i need help.
that was on august 22nd,2016 and they knew this 1 place in town, it was a 6 to 9 month treatment center, free of charge. so what the hell, they also have a detox facility there so why not, so checked myself into the detox facility, and felt horrible for 4 days, and finally got over in the program.
unlike alot of the other guys i was in the program with, most of them had families in the same city, and had shit. me, i had nothing, i had no one, came in with the shoes on my feet, and shirt on my back, slowly but surly i started to open up, i got a sponsor and started working the 12 steps of AA, i learned what the phenomenon of craving was, and the diesese concept, i learned that when i take a drink i cannot stop, and thats what separates me from other drinkers.
After 9 months of being there I got offered a job working at the same treatment center as a peer mentor, someone who mentors the clients in their step work, and offers them their own(my) experience, strength, and hope. I am now a 'coordinator', and what I do is the bed moves, job changes, and who completes the program. It's a very big task, and I am grateful that I was given the job. This is only the beginning tho because the 'peer-mentor' job is only for 3-6 months, so when my 6 month date comes up then it will be time to move on, hopefully something will open up further down the road from now.

The reason behind me writing this here is because I got offered my old job back doing line work, and I know that there's pot, drinking, and the use of drugs going on. The money sounds tempting to go back to work doing line work, but in reality i feel like if i do take that job then i will be pretty much setting myself up for a excuse to drink again, and for me to drink again is for me to die. Like i said earlier, i'm the type of drinker that it may be all fun and games drinking with the bros at the club, or having a glass of wine at the dinner table, i always find myslf in the west-end of town trying to buy heroin, crack, whatever!more alcohol anything! over that 1 drink, so writing this shows me how easy it would be to lose everything i've worked for over this past year over 1 drink.

Now, i am not knocking the people that do drugs, or drink because i work with people that do drugs and drink, I just know for (me) that i cannot drink, or do drugs successfully.

Well, thats pretty much it. Thanks for reading
-Drew

Brandon said he quit. Ill miss my friend but welcome the space for a better employee and justification along with a years time to ask for more from the snakes. I am at peace and look forward to thisd diary but not sure what else to say tonight. Class tomorrow and I always learn there so good things to coms. Ahhh, can practice magic here. ?

I just found out my health insurance premium is going up too 500 Dollars a month in January. There's no fucking way I can afford that with no job. I think I'm going to see a lawyer this week about applying for disability. I haven't been able to work in a couple years because of depression

Well after what was a longer absence then I thought I have decided to step down from being a moderator of this site. So much has changed since the day I took the position. Prior to being a mod I merely frequented the site for years, nearly a decade, before I was told to apply as Id make a good addition.

Back then I was new on methadone and still very much involved in all types of behavior. Drugs have always been a part of my life and although I still partake in them I just feel the strong desire to be a member of the community waning. Its not that I no longer value the mission or what makes this site important its more like I simply dont think or surround myself with drugs or the idea of them.

I've developed a decent number of hobbies not pertaining to drugs that have in a sense removed me from thinking about them a lot and its almost as if i have to switch on the desire to talk or share about them rather then it being innate like it use to.

In a way it makes me happy. There was a time where as a junkie my life revolved around drugs which meant at the very least thinking about them constantly. Now I can go all day without so much a thought other then may nightly joint or maybe getting a drink at a bar.

I love you guys and I love this site but the one thing i know i am is a person who changes. The ability to move on and leave my past there is what has shaped my existence. Though I cant really see myself never returning I can see it being a flight of fancy more then a daily event.

The blog posts tell the story, it is a good one... it is the fairy tale ending that shouldnt have been. It should serve as a light of hope that over 6 years I went from a tale of suffering, decay and heart ache... to one of life drive and desire. And I am still best friends with my g/f i use to post about, in some ways shes actually doing better then i am.

They say happy endings only exist in fairy tales or "once an addict always an addict" I say nuts to that, nuts to anyone who says otherwise

My 84 year old Aunt Jeanne is lying in a hospice outside of Memphis facing death. At least she is trying to face Death, but that is proving tricky. She twists her weakened neck to turn her face to where she feels Death must be; sometimes she moans with the effort, sometimes even a moan takes too much strength. But when she lets her mouth fall open and hang there, so that Death might fly unimpeded into her ruined body and mercifully tear her from it, she feels nothing but more unwelcome oxygen flowing into her aching lungs. And then someone, maybe a nurse, maybe her sister or her daughter, comes along and closes her mouth.

Death is not present, no matter that she calls and calls without words. Her brittle bones call him, her pale, freckled flesh that hangs on those bones, calls him, the nerves under her scalp call him, the ends of her dull reddish hair snake out into the air seeking him. But Death is busy. He is elsewhere. He is in Syria and Congo, Afghanistan and Iraq. He is in Nigeria and Sudan and Somalia, Yemen and Chechnya. He’s right behind the driver’s seat of the black kid in America pulled over for a broken tail light or for nothing at all. He has his hands full of babies and young people in their prime in Yemen, schoolteachers and doctors in Afghanistan, old people so terrified by bombs in Raqqa that they find themselves running again—something they thought they could no longer do. He’s got new mothers and fathers to attend to, he’s got the oldest sister, the youngest brother, the unlucky cousin, the lucky cousin who got away yesterday but not today. He’s got all those unfortunate university students that were busy starting what they thought would be predictable, successful, ordinary and long lives in all those countries where hate and fear have combined to a toxic gas that permeates the skin and burns its way into dreams. He’s got The War on Drugs, The War on Terror, the civil wars and the cartel wars and the wars based on skin color and language and which side of the tracks you live on, the wars for petroleum or copper or diamonds, the wars based on nothing more than their own long and sickening two-sided histories.

Remember, there is only one Death and his job description says he must do it all. So if you are ready, not only ready but willing, especially if you are begging—take a number— you have to wait; you aren’t going anywhere and Death knows it. It’s the ones that are not ready, the ones running, the ones swimming for their lives after the boat capsizes, the ones hiding under broken concrete, holding their breath until the footsteps recede, the ones shivering in cells, the ones praying for a better test result in the hospital, the ones trying with everything they have left to outsmart him—those are ones that keep Death busy. The old woman in the hospice outside of Memphis? She’ll wait. What choice does she have?This world is a cruel and demanding overlord and Death but an overworked and weary servant.

We, my extended family, wish we could help Death out right now. We wish we could solve the problems of the world so that Death could catch a break; so that he could simply attend to those calling out to him; so that Aunt Jeanne could summon him and hear his calm, confident voice, just as she imagined it, so compassionate, so welcoming and safe, much like she remembers the sound of mornings when she was very small; Saturday mornings on Montevista Street, with the whir and catch of push-mowers and birdsong in every tree, the soft brushing sound of distant traffic, her mother and father talking downstairs, the neighborhood kids calling her name by the side door.

....what community!

Not that I hold any of you accountable. That would be audacious. How dare I; you have your own lives to live and how presumptuous of me to think I would hold wick in even the outro. Still...5 months?

Well, a poem, then. No one gives a damn about poetry.


On Insidery


How can I answer

My own questions

When I can't even do the research



The library's burned to the ground

All the old journals were lost

In that first flood

In that second flood


Anyway, they're illegible

Through the tears



I can't hear the Earth

Through my toes anymore

The wind no longer

Sings to me

The rain is just cold water

The snow is no longer

And overturned treasure box

Of glittering diamonds




Just snow, wet and plain




The dancers in the fire

Have left, in search of

A brighter flame

Have left in search of

A brighter flame




I'm not getting older

Aging never worried me

I'm fading

Soon, I'll just be the Shadow

- Shadow? -

Who watches as you


Howl to the Moon, a twinkle in Her eye

Cleanse yourself in the waters of Her Sea

Giggle when the rays of the Sun kiss your skin, ever coy is He

Deliciously shudder, rolling in Her verdant fields

The intensity of Her colors exploding allwhere


When you think you see a shadow -

- Shadow? -

observing

From behind a tree

Near a shrub

By a rock

You light a match

The shadow

- Shadow? -

vanishes



And when the match comes to its end

The shadow

- Shadow? -

does not return




How can I if I don't have

The Answer?


And if I have no answers


Was I ever really here at all?


/SH

10/9/16

Georgia 5

I recently came back to BL. Looked at my old threads and old blog posts. Sad that I seem to have deleted a lot of posts and blogs out of anger, or whatever it was that possessed me at the time. It makes me sad and angry to look back and see how carefree I was. How many risks I took. How much fun I had. How many drugs I did. These days, it's just me and alcohol, and benzos sometimes. Sometimes a pathetic attempt at caffeine. Sometimes a swig of benadryl. Sometimes an attempt at dxm again. I really miss dxm. I wish everything didn't give me a goddamn panic attack. I know I had anxiety issues back then but I never let it stop me from living. Now I let it affect me. Fuck that fucking bullshit.Too bad it's not that easy.....just leaves me thinking...what would 17 year old me say to 27 year old me now?

The Bluelight ownership, administrator and senior moderators have, for some time, been discussing The Lounge. In short, we're concerned about the current state of the forum and feel that some changes need to be made to address the issues:

The Lounge was always intended to be the social, off-topic forum for all of Bluelight. It has, however, evolved into a place where a small number of users who, for the most part, do not participate anywhere else on the site post an increasingly large amount of content.
much of content posted in The Lounge today is mean-spirited and offers nothing beyond having a 'joke' at the expense of others. It's deliberately and aggressively non-inclusive. This issue recently came to a head and was brought into sharp relief when the deaths of a couple of members were used as fodder for 'comedy'.
there remains a persistent undercurrent of racism and homophobia which manifests in use of racist and homophobic terms as pejoratives. Generally speaking there is a fundamental disconnect between The Lounge staff's position on the enforcement of site-wide rules and that of the ownership and administration. This tension compounds the problem of discouraging problematic behavior among lounge regulars and, indeed at times, often simply encourages it.

The Lounge has been taken off-line for a day or two while we make some changes which include, but may not be limited to:

making The Lounge visible to all users (registered and unregistered) and available for posting to all registered users (Bluelighters and Greenlighters).
rewriting The Lounge guidelines to clearly lay out expectations.
review the forum moderator team and make changes if/as necessary.

If you have questions or comments in the meantime, please post them here (and only here): the lounge discussion v. september 2016

We're very happy to answer questions and discuss in more detail but please keep it civil. If you just want to rant or insult and abuse people, rather than discuss issues, then probably better to do that somewhere off-site.






I actually believed this at the time. Wow.

I now have 3 years and 10 months clean time. It has been a long ass time since I have written in my blog. I decided to actually try and write in it the other night, but naturally Mom's laptop appears to have a friggin virus or something. The damn thing is frozen and I just can't get it to work. It's been a long, hard road back from using. I had been homeless living in my car. The dope fiends I had been crashing with on and off had had their house taken away by the state. The state had come and boarded up the house. They had given me permission to park in their driveway by the alley. The ones that were the main occupants of the house had packed up and took off for Las Vegas. I had been invited to go along for the ride, but decided against it because I knew from past experience that Vegas was NOT a place for dope fiends and that if caught with dope, I would be doing some serious time, so I hung back in So Cali. The laws were bad enough here, but I had lived here my entire life. It was what I knew. I had been diagnosed with possible liver cancer and diagnosed with Hep C back in 98. Hell most dope fiends I knew had it. I had 9 months before the money for my state disability ran out. I had filed for my long term permanent disability, but I knew that that could take up to 5 years before I got that, so in the mean time my worst fear was having no money and no drugs and a harsh reality of being a derelict on the street with no drugs, no money, and no food. I figured I'd have to make sure to die before the money ran out. Honestly, I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. I had warrants out for my arrest for failure to appear in court and for various drug charges. The reality was sooner or later I was going to be picked up and taken to jail. It came a lot sooner than I had planned.

Three days later I had hooked up with one of my dealers and bought a dime of meth. He gave me a $20 back for $10. I went back to my car and shot up 2 hits of meth. I think I popped about 20 or 24 painkillers that night as well. I couldn't make up my mind whether I wanted to go up or down. I remember it was a little after 8pm and I was playing games on my tablet. A couple hours later I heard gunshots go off. Next thing I know 2 cop cars showed up. I had towels covering all windows of my car except the driver's side window so the cops saw me. Once they saw me I knew it was all over. They ran my plates, searched the car, found the drugs, and took me in. I was charged with violating probation, paraphernalia, possession, and on top of that bringing drugs into a jail because I had forgotten I had put the left over meth into my bra. I went to County Jail for 90 days. I thought my life was over. I couldn't understand why the world wouldn't just leave me the fuck alone.

Jail was a rough deal at times. I was kicking both meth and painkillers. I didn't sleep for 5 days straight. I couldn't sit still. All and all jail turned out to be a positive experience though. It was a place that allowed me to get clean. After I got out I stayed clean and went to NA. The Judge ordered 3 months of in patient rehab, but it took 6 weeks before I found a bed. So I went to Casa Elena, a County facility because I've been living on general relief these past 4 years and its been rough. It's a good thing I was very strong in my recovery because no matter where you go there will always be others that use, whether it's jail, rehab, or the outside, so you have to make up your mind that being clean is what you want so that's what I did. It's not that I don't ever miss drugs because obviously there are some very practical purposes that drugs serve. I didn't have to feel physical or emotional pain when I didn't want to. I didn't have to have an ounce of fat on me if I didn't want to. When the weather was ungodly hot or cold, it didn't bother me so much. I didn't have to feel tired if I didn't want to.

The thing is I have to accept the inconveniences of being clean for the benefits such as not having to worry about cops hassling me 24/7 for one. Even though I'm broke all the time because my income is only $298/mo on general relief until I get my ruling on my disability case-my court date for that is oct 3, I still have registration tags that are mine, insurance card that is mine, a car that is legal, and I get to participate in a life outside of drugs. When I was using the sad thing is I didn't have time for much else. Everything revolved around getting more drugs or being sick and constantly broke even though I had a job and a lot more money coming in than I do now.

So today unlike most people with almost 4 years clean and that are 52 years old I'm not going to lie and say life is all peaches and roses. It's not. I don't have my own job yet and my own place. I'm stuck living with Mom and although I love her to bits she drives me fucking nuts at times. I hope I get this disability money so I can pay her back and get my own life and my own place. If I do get my long term disability, from what I've researched I'm allowed to earn up to $1000/mo without it hurting my disability and I had hoped to go back to school and work as a drug counselor. Due to my last relapse my nursing license got revoked. Although it is possible to get reinstated, it would cost a king's fucking ransom to do so and at this point I'm still waiting on getting my record expunged. I've done all the footwork required for that for now, the rest is up to the courts, but I'm told this is still going to take a few more weeks.

I have a great sponsor in Narcotics Anonymous. I'm currently working my 2nd round of Steps and am on Step 9 again. I still go to at least 3 meetings a week. I do my prayers and meditations every morning and night. I have my own NA panel that I lead and speak at at a women's rehab. I'm the treasurer of a Tues night meeting and GSR of Mon night meeting and I go to the H&I/GSR service group meeting each month to be of service. I tried to be of service to speak in the women's jail, but was turned down due to my record. They told me to try again at the end of August. So that's it for now. My library time is about to run out. It feels good to start up a journal again. One thing I'm glad about. I'd like to thank BL for keeping all the posts I had from when I was using. It really shows me how nuts I was when I was out there using.

I guess I should be prod of myself. I was sober for almost 2 months before today. That's the longest stretch in a very long time. Probably the best in last 5 years. But I not feel happy about it. I mean I don't feel sad about it either it just was. I didn't have many cravings. I just dosed my methadone came home and surfed the web. Everyday. I have 2 numbers in my new phone my mom and dad. That's it not a single friend. My parents made me change my number as a condition of paying my lawyer and bail. Fair play to them I was off the deep end again. Shooting coke addicted to benzos. I actually physically lost my car, yeah couldn't remember what happened to it..... Eventually found out I got pulled over riding on the rim from a flat tire some how didn't get arrested that day but the car got impounded and I couldn't afford to get it out by the time I found it. So embarrassing. One of many embarrassing stories I pieced together from a week long blackout.

Waking up in jail not knowing how I got there wasn't near as scary as I imagined it would be. Or I was just still high from benzos. Prolly that one. Luckily it is just a misdemeanor paraphernalia ticket. Luckily my parents are saints and make sure I get to the clinic to dose everyday. Pay for it. Paid a lawyer. Sat with me in the hospital while my kidneys failed and I detoxes benzos. Nursed me to health. Fucking good people I tell you. I wish I could repay them. They want me to succeed as there payment they say. Fuck the one thing I can't give.

My grandmother died a month after I got out. I couldn't even cry at the funeral. We where close too. Well we used to be anyway. I don't feel close to anyone anymore. I lie to everyone because I am embarrassed. All I do is eat sleep and surf the net. Is that a life? Yeah it's only been 2 months or whatever but truthfully this has been going on for a couple years strait. 10 years off and on. 2 years since I held a job years 3 since college. I'm the definition of a deadbeat junky recluse. And I am ok with it. Yeah I complain sometimes but mostly it's ok.

I miss my friends. I miss concerts. I miss heroin. I really miss having a reason to get out of bed. Heroin for all its bullshit did force a certain amount of action. Methadone requires none of that. It's easy comfortable. I feel nothing and that's just the truth.

I hope my mom reads this one day when I'm gone. I'm sorry I couldn't be more. You deserve better and I'm sorry for so many things. None of this was your fault I know you did your best and I know you love me. That's what makes this so hard. I see the disappointment in your face. You and mark deserve better but I can't give it. I'm broken there's something bad wrong with my head. I think about suicide a lot like if I took the doctors advice I would never leave the phych ward. Your the reason I haven't killed myself because I don't want to hurt you anymore. But at the same time I'm a burden on you guys and I hate that. I hate it so much I cry about it inside.

What should I do mom? Is it better if I kill myself and unburden you financially but burden your heart forever? I have seen that hurt from the outside and it's gutwrenching. I don't want that for you. I thought about prison but that would still put financial burden on you and the family would look down on you in your eyes. The cousins are so successful aren't they? I'm proud of them but it hurts too. I feel left behind. Judged exposed. I wanted you to be proud one day too late so to speak. But it's all on me you gave me every opportunity to succeed. None of this is on you.

So yeah that's the most truthful shit I've written in a long time. I love this site and you guys. Only place I've ever been able to be 100 percent Drew and not be ashamed. So thank you all. This isn't a suicide note or anything just a treatise to the way I am feeling.

I finally passed enough drug tests to get weekend takehomes from the mdone clinic! Only took 2.5 years lol. But yeah I'm doing better all around. Only gotten high once since mid June which is a record for me

4/29:
I guess just some bullet points. When I first moved back to my home town, my daughters Kainat* & Amaya* were just 7 years & 4 months old, respectively. Shortly after Amaya had her first birthday, she fell into a coma. It is my belief this was as a result of adverse reactions to her one year vaccinations, the massive incompetence of her pediatrician, Dr. Dimwit* & an at-the-time undiscovered set of intense seasonal allergies.

She recovered amazingly (this whole episode is a series of stories on its own), we chose a new doctor & life went on.
*Names have been changed for privacy. Except the doctor's. That's probably her real name.

5/29:
"Listen, my friends are having a 4th of July party tonight. I'd like you to come." He paused & the air crackled with expectation.

Involuntarily, I found myself asking, "What time?"

His reply was adorable, "Anytime. Now. The whole day. Whenever you want. I don't care. I just really want to see you." Something inside me went all slushy. Something outside me went a bit slushy as well...*blush except no, because I never blush*

The Mean Me took over. I replied brusquely, "Yeah, well, I dunno. I already have plans for today - another party - so I doubt it. Maybe another time." Yeah, another time that had been before July, dingbat...

__________________​

BOOM! The sky exploded into a cacophony of color & sound & Lucian virtually teleported from my side to the living room. Once safely behind the bodyguard of glass, his eyes lit up with as much light as the night sky. I stood on the porch, laughing with a friend when a woman approached us, half-heartedly apologizing for her late arrival. My friend cocked her head to the side while extending her hand in greeting. "I recognize you but I can't place you. What's your name?"

What came from her mouth turned my blood to pure ice. Then this monster turned to offer me her hand. I recoiled as if it had been the claw of the Lord of Hell himself. It was that wretched pediatrician who almost killed my daughter. I looked at her in utter disgust; the last firework was clearing in the air.

"Let's go kids! We are off to another party!"

JULY 06 The Snow Melts...Because It's July. Duh.
Before I move into this chapter, you might have a question or two regarding what I meant when I said, "that wretched pediatrician who almost killed my daughter..."

I touched on the topic briefly in the 4/29/17 My Snow Globe Life entry, but didn't elaborate & I won't much more here other than to say shortly after Amaya had her first birthday (& corresponding vaccines), she grew very ill, ejecting everything possible from either end. Despite the moronic advice from her asinine pediatrician ("keep her home & hydrate her." How the actual fuck was I supposed to do that with her barfing & shitting everywhere? Run a Gatorade drip? Soak her in saline? Hold her by an ankle in the River Styx??), I chose instead to use my damn common sense, the medical knowledge passed on to me from my wise Nurse Mama & my Tummy Voice & took my baby straight to the ER.

That twerp pediatrician said I was "overreacting" because I had "the new mommy jitters" (asshole, did you notice my 7 year old daughter? No? I'm as new a mommy as you are gifted a doctor, twaddlehead...) but she "humored" me & ran some tests. That fucklebrained shit-in-skull should have at LEAST run a damn IV as well because when the tests came back, lo & behold, my kid was crashing & needed IV fluids STAT but her veins were starting to collapse. What a surprise, Forrest Gump, you never cease to amaze. Now, eat a box of chocolates & run off the Western coast. Clearly new mommy jitters. OOooOOo.

They rushed us from our little podunk country hospital to the City Hospital by ambulance but when we arrived, my little girl was already in a coma & they weren't even able to successfully get an IV line under her clavicle. (Mercifully, it didn't end up being needed, but still. I wouldn't trust that neurologically fecal pediatrician with my gerbils. & they're all dead.) Horrifying & heartbreaking long story short*, after ten days, she fully recovered (although I never will)** without any long term consequences whatsoever.

Moving on, yes?

I get Lucian, Amaya & her friend in the car after saying a very quick goodbye to the hosts & call Halsten to check if it's ok to arrive at such a late time to the gathering. I don't understand how it's possible to contain a giggle in one's voice while speaking, but he manages to do it without sounding like a complete doofus. He makes it abundantly clear I could arrive at 4:52 AM & it would be fine. I don't make any attempt to hide my giggle.

It takes about a half hour & as soon as we get there, the three kids bolt as he's giving me airplane-esque directions on where to park my mommymobile on the side of this abandoned parkway in the middle of ch-ch-ch-ch-ah-ah-ah-ah Hicksville where his friends live. When I step out of the van, he takes my hand to lead me up their seventytween mile long horror movie dark driveway, & I find it incredibly sweet. Who holds hands these days? When we get to the end, there are a bunch of parked cars & he leads me to his. He doesn't let go of my hand & I don't pull my hand away. It's crazy how it feels so natural, as if...well, as if we have always held hands.

At one point, he leans up against the car & puts his arms around me & it is so outrageously presumptuous & yet, I am shocked by how I respond: I feel completely at ease & comfortable. More than that, I feel like I belong there. I snuggle in just as my daughter & her friend find us.

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh. Gross." They both look at each other & laugh before running away, back into the darkness of The Bates Yard.

I step away from him & we start talking again. He is absentmindedly drawing little patterns on my bare arm while we talk about our childhood, realizing not only did we attend the same elementary school, we had the same sixth grade teacher. As he starts to tell me an anecdote about himself, he suddenly gasps & hacks. I look at him in alarm.

"I...just..ate..a bug!"

"Oh, no! I...uh...do you want some gum?" I offer, in a mini-panic. He nods, continuing to gasp. I can still see myself in this shocking, appalling gesture. Realizing I have no pockets in the maxi dress I'm wearing & not able to retract the offer, I take the gum from my own mouth & shove it in his!

After a moment's recovery, where I stand, in horror, wide-eyed, he looks at me with a raised eyebrow & smirk. I don't really know what to say & make a feeble, pathetic attempt at humor. "Well, that was romantic..."

"Yes," he agrees, "it was." & then he kisses me.

** My "epiphany," as it were, is this: if that doctor hasn't almost murdered my baby girl, where would I be with my Beloved?

I use drugs. Well, I use cocaine. It's not an every day thing or even every week. But once it starts, I can't stop. As I sit and write this, knowing full well I have to be up for work in less than 2 hours, I have stuff sitting next to me.

I was clean of everything for 11 years. Then I met a guy who has a habit. It wasn't his fault that I started again but he certainly didn't make it easy to avoid things!!

Before I knew it, stupid amounts of money, by both of us were being spent.... The most being £800 in 2 days. We lost the house we were renting together and, 14 months later, we have parted company and shall, if possible, remain friends.

Since we stopped living together, I do believe my consumption has lessened but it may just be that I am only buying for me instead of us!!

I keep thinking some masked horro movie killer is outside my door or there's a ghost watching me. Crazy stuff like that. I don't know what's wrong with my brain but it's screwing up my life. I'm gonna be at home alone for the next few days as well. Great.......

Hey mate

I miss you and think about you every day. When you died the world lost a beautiful human being.

I am so grateful I spent time with you.

I miss you always.

I hope that there is an afterlife so when I leave this mortal coul I will see you again.

I wonder if they sometimes randomly wonder how I am and it would be comforting to know these reminiscing times are shared.

One person in particular. A great buddy. Spent hours talking over AIM. Just dribbling shit in the muddle of the night for hours about fuck all. The time difference was 12 hours roughly.

Some international calls. We got along so great

It was very unfortunate that we both were spiralling into our own hells and I guess I didnt appreciate what he was going through and didnt realise my state of mind was obvious.

I do not regret for a second going to visit him and the others. I regret not getting healthy first. Sometimes taking a punt on getting a relationship against all odds works but this one was pretty unrealistic.

I did know deep down things would not work out but was optimistic and prepared to take a chance and seemed mutual. We were close for 5 years and just loved him as a friend and more.

Alas the risk of being let down panned out and teally really hurt. Especially how that happened and that was the rnd of any communication. Quite painful. The last email i got was basically a goodbye and due to his issues he was considering dying.

I didnt know if he was alive or dead for years until by chance his presence on earth was confirmed by mutual friend.

I had accepted he was dead or prepared to let me think he was. Despite this, I miss him and it pains that I cant talk to him and his friends who know me havent volunteered to assist so thats a clue to me that he would not want to resume our previously happy friendship. I want to know what I did or was it his own issues or both?

Anyway. Its not the worst or hardest thing to deal with. I just miss him. Maybe hes settled down elsewhere and Im a relic of the past. I have a kid now anyway and wouldnt move her out of Australia.


My other friends that I still talk to- I cant badger them but wish they would read my mind and give me answers I know would end that chapter.


Yes I still think about you. Not often. I just wish I could keep in my life no matter what is going on some people that would just be there and not disappear.

I just need a break from all this anxiety bullshit. I always deal with my brain telling me "when this is over (anything like bowling, etc) you will look back on it and be thinking about how you said this" and sure enough, I look back on it when the event is over and I put myself in the place I was imagining myself in. It just is a complicated way of saying nothing lasts forever and it just makes me upset about the way I think about time. I just wish I could not worry about it and be happy.

Tomorrow will mark two months clean from heroin and I am so proud of myself. This has been the longest I've have ever been clean from the demon. Oh, how it was so hard to quit heroin and oh, how it is so hard to remain clean. The cravings come and go. There are times where I get absolutely disgusted at the sounds of doing heroin and there are times where I cannot stop wanting to do heroin again. It makes me sad to think that I will forever have to deal with this. I will forever have to deal with my stupid mistake. Why did I have to put that straw up my nose? Why did I have to go down this path?

Now I have committed to a life long issue that can either remain a struggle or it can be turned in a different direction. I know I have regrets, but I can't continue on this path of negativity. I need to stop questioning why I did this and start fixing things. I know why I did heroin that first night. I also know why I continued to do heroin. So instead of focusing on that I want to start doing what I have to do to fix the issues in my life that led me down the path of addiction. I also have to focus on sobriety.

I know I am clean from heroin and opiates in general, but I still love to indulge in other substances. However, I know this isn't the right thing for me. I know it isn't anymore because a lot of my drug use hasn't been for fun. It was just me being self destructive or done to mask the other things I was going through. Yet, even as I type this I am thinking, "fuck that... you're still going to get high." And this really does upset me. It upsets me because I no longer can remember a time in my life where drugs weren't the main priority. I can't remember a time in my life where getting high or drunk wasn't the only fun I had. Well, I can, but I choose to lie to myself and tell myself that I truly wasn't living before until I started using. Even though I know that is a lie because ever since drugs became a huge thing in my life, the more I began to feel distant from reality, and the more I felt like I've lost myself... I lost who I am. Who was I before drugs?

So I want to find that person again. I want to find who I am without drugs. I'm just so tired of being so depressed and doing drugs to create a false sense of happiness. I'm tired of feeling the need to runaway and disappear from life. I need this change. I need to change before it's too late. I'm only nineteen, and I have so many more years to live. I've lost so many already and I can't get them back... I don't want to lose anymore.

Hi Everyone,

I wrote this for those out there who battle addiction, or may be suffering. Let me know what your thoughts are. Attached below is the link and the story I wrote:

https://mringrose.blogspot.com/p/speed.html

"Amphetamine Abyss." By: Michael Ringrose

The line is cut out in front of you as you anxiously await the rush it will deliver. You look around at your friends before leaning in to inhale the sharp substance that cuts through your nasal passages like a knife in butter. You step back in relief. Your senses sharpen and you begin to feel focused on only being as productive as you can within the limited time you have. You begin coming up with ideas, and collaborate with your surroundings to make them come to life. The night carries on.






The passengers in your car are intoxicated, yet you feel nothing but confidence and influence. You comfort others with your conversation and you realize your losing grip of the steering wheel due to the continuous perspiration. You look over at the clock, and realize it is going on 3 AM and you are not tiring at a normal pace. As you arrive home, the party quickly fades and you feel continually empowered to work through some things that you have been putting off. The house needed cleaning, the dog walking. You ponder about in a lonely stance, coming to realize you are alone.

Your friends have fallen into a beautiful peaceful abyss. You sit alone trying to figure out why you are beginning to feel isolated, alone. You reach into your pocket, and set out another line. Deep down, you know this will be your last for the night. The question of running out eludes your mind, and you begin to feel empowered again. The metallic sweet taste goes down the back of your throat as you swallow. Your ALIVE again. This time even more so then the last. You quickly begin surfing the internet, and seem to be learning at such a rapid pace. You develop new work, start a project that was already due, and carry on.

Looking over you realize a glimpse of sunlight peeking in through the dark room. You listen to your friends peacefully sleeping as the daylight succumbs the room. You start wondering, how long it will be until you can get some more. You cannot possibly be done yet, there is simply too much to be done. You check your messaging applications on your computer every five minutes as the hours begin to blend together and fade. Your face is hot, and you are focused. You continue typing out your finishing thoughts, when suddenly you realize you have to get to work.

Thoughts begin racing through your mind, as you scramble up a plan to get to work. Your energy begins to fade, and you are contemplating taking a nap. Suddenly as you lie down, all you feel is panic. Your racing consciousness plays out every thing, and it does not look good. As the time goes on you realize there is some alcohol in the bottle left over from the party. This will surely get you to sleep so you can recover and get just enough sleep before work.

Laying there, you realize you have lost your job before losing it. You realize you have nothing in common with others. The thoughts continually speed up without mercy. The liquor burns as it goes down. You continue drinking and feel okay again. You realize you have not showered in two days, when suddenly you hear a notification from your computer. Your in business. Off into the abyss.

So, in order to get into an IOP, which has been a laborious and drawn out process, seeing as ohio is in the dark ages when it comes to ORT (it's either subs on your own, or IOP w/out ORT), I have been tricking the system by replacing subs with kratom. And don't you know it, my beautiful readers, that I almost immediately began to over consume this horrible tasting plant matter, as let's face it, when it comes to most opiates, more is MORE.

Anyway, this was working quite well for me, for about a week, consuming about 30-40g of bali powder (use a table spoon so who knows how much I actually take). However, their came a turning point about two days ago, the night before 'attending' my first IOP group, I noticed that the mu-agonist effects started to shift into something terrible and serotonergic (for those that don't know, which is likely all of you, and this will no doubt become relevant in my view's on the art work of Alex Grey, I hate psychedelic drugs- with the exception of taking a blast of dmt in between meth hits-that is). I began to tremble, so bad, that by the morning of my first group, I was literally shaking like I was about to have a seizure. My vision, was distorted seeming, wobbly, and I felt like absolute shit. Even worse, smoking cigarettes made these effects worse, as did drinking coffee. But, if you know me, which most of you don't IRL, than you will know that even when I am literally seconds from a fatal asthma attack, I will be smoking cigarette butts picked up from the ground (I've noticed that American Spirits make for the best snipes, as they burn for so long, but when it comes to smoking full cigarettes, I'm a marlboro man, like my father, though I prefer '27s). What I'm saying is, this terrible side effect which I started to think was 'Seretonin Syndrome' (and perhaps it was), did not cease my indulgence in the few vices I have left to lean on.

Anyway, it got so bad that I was tweaking out all last night, watching bad horror movie after bad thriller, (with the exception of Killer Joe- suck that fried chicken!), and ended up taking some subs, and sleeping most of the day. When I woke up I started researching these abhorrent effects on line, and I came across a 'wiki' page for 'psychonauts'. Now, I consider myself a psychonaut to some degree, although a careless one, and I should also note that I consider the term 'psychonaut' to be a dressed up way of saying drug addict, at least in my case. Oh, I've tried plenty of RC's in my time-though test them I did not, nope, I was the brave idiot that upon receiving his latest batch of whatever crappy replacement/substitutes they had come out for MDPV or Mephedrone, would pour out a nice 100mg into a plastic cap, draw up, and slam into my veins, often with horrible consequences, such as, psychosis, or black outs (some of these 'stims' have the propensity to fucking put you to sleep, 4-FA comes to mind as well as 4-EMC if I am correct). Yes, my experiments were not for the sake of science, or for the sake of opening up my mind to the beauty of the universe, but rather, to pump out as much dopamine in my brain to create a quick, cheap high for the times I could not afford to shoot real cocaine. I serve, myself, though through my errors, perhaps some will learn to not be so reckless when it comes to IV'ing vials of crystalline substances with a little label we all ignore that says 'Not for human consumption' (I never considered myself a human anyway). So blasphemous were my ways, that the few times I acquired some high quality MDMA, I shot it all up, by myself, and stared at the floor. No raves for me, no stupid, fucking finger lights.

Well back to the psychonaut wiki page-they had a little art section, bless their hearts, and wouldn't you know it, every motherfucking piece looked like...surprise, surprise, a photoshopped rip-off of Alex Grey's style. I mean fuck, all you trippers can't see the same fucking thing?? I know psychosis isn't quite the same thing, but my 'trips' were at least a little unique, though granted they did always involve some authority figure trying to arrest or kill me for or before I could administer my heroin (just grant me this last shot-I'd beg the imaginary villains).

Let me now give a little background about my views on the art of Alex Grey-for it haunts me, wherever I go. Even on the streets of Oakland, where the junkies were divided basically into two camps, Grateful Dead Kids, and then, the rest of us, which if you had to classify us, were more sided with punk rock ideology, though what that is, I've always been confused, and would often joke with my 'punk' friends, that isn't being a junky punk rock enough? Why bother dressing like one? I mean, at the end there, I had been free-balling for literally 4 months, had a hole in the crotch of my size 0 women's jeans (which wasn't good, the hole), no shoelaces, as they had long abandoned there post and responsibility's to be used as tourniquets, and blood on...everything. Wasn't nihilism and apathy enough? I always thought so.

BUT, even among my friends, I was constantly reminded of HIM. Alex Grey. On of my friends, god bless his heart, would go around constantly even quoting the motherfucker.

So here's the deal- I grew up with Alex Grey. No, I'm not trying to say 'y'all are posers, cause I knew about Alex Grey FIRST', but the truth is, I actually knew him. I was friends with his daughter in middle school, very good friends. I also knew another artist, Robert Longo, who, among those actually knowledgable in the wider world of art, is very famous, and even directed the music video for 'Peace sells...but who's buying?' by Megadeth (what'ya mean I don't believe in GOD!? talk to 'em every day!). But I spent a lot of time, in Brooklyn, at Alex Grey's house, and just so know one asks 'well whats he's like', I'll tell you- he's really fucking nice, and he's pretty fucking cool when it comes down to it. BUT, he's also a human being, not a GOD, as some people seem to think, or worship him in such way.

So why do I say 'Fuck Alex Grey' ? Because, SOME HAD TO SAY IT. THERE ARE BETTER ARTISTS. Isn't taking acid and all that horrible shit supposed to open your world up? Well open it up to some other artists, liking Alex Grey is fine, but don't claim that he's your 'favorite artist' unless you can name at least 10 other artists who aren't Michelangelo, Donetello, Leonardo, or Raphael. Because it comes across as being fucking 'ignorant'.

Anyway, in conclusion, I stopped taking the kratom for 24 hours, and then took 5-6 grams, and now I'm feeling great. But Kratom is a drug like buprenorphine, I've sadly come to conclude, where, less, is generally more. Luckily there is more room for getting a quality buzz with kratom, which can be speedy or sedating, but what I've learned is, you gotta come down before you re-dose. Also, if you have a 'hepatic' situation like I do, that ends with a C, or an A or B, you probably should watch it too. My face just

I'm listening to the misfits and Donald Trump talk at Anderson Cooper simultaneously, and it's hella punk rock! DEAD END ZONE, FUCK WORLD TRADE, FUCK AMERICA! We're getting what we deserve.

loving yourself is so difficult
ive struggled immensely with this obstacle for the past several years trying to get a grasp on who i am to love. it's sad when you cant pin point a certain aspect of who you are to know if it's something you love or not. which, of course, could only mean im not being true to myself. but how can one define who one is while experiencing new things? one self is ever changing and ever present to new happenings. ever evolving into something new. what one felt yesterday isnt how one could feel today.
am i just a sequence of collected experiences reacting to new occurrences?
do i have any solid form of opinion that isnt effected by outside forces?

these past years have exacted a vengeance on my soul. a total and complete war on who i thought i was and what i stood for. everything feels shaky. a myth waiting to be disproved while i stand with naked hands in the abyss of my ignorance. being alone shares a new emptiness that belittles what i held so firmly to be solid.

i dont trust myself. i dont trust these people ive allowed into my world. i dont trust this feeling i have right now. im afraid and alone and i dont think there's any other way im suppose to feel right now. this is a learning experience. a rite of passage thats been a long time coming. or i could be flailing into a dark cavern of nonexistence. either way im here and i want to love myself. to not feel uncomfortable in my own skin. to not allow my own thoughts to cater to the will of negative opinions. i want to be me. just me.

imhe becos my heart is this closed thread