This Sunday, I Share My Story At Church. I Have 7 Minutes To Explain 26 Years. When The Pastor Asked
This Sunday, I share my story at church. I have 7 minutes to explain 26 years. When the pastor asked me to share, he specifically requested I replicate what I shared last year at the Recovery Community Inc fundraiser. I’ve spent some time trying to recall that was. I’m going to use this space to aid my memory:
I grew up in a good home. My parents are still married. I had everything I needed and most of what I wanted. Something wasn’t right, though. Even at 12, I remember never feeling good enough. That’s when I began cutting myself. That worked, for a while. It was than that i began signing my journals with “not alive at 25”. I’d decided I didn’t want to live longer than that. That was the deadline I put on the universe to make me want to live. Eventually, I got caught cutting. I had to find another way to ease what I thought was pain. I lost my virginity at 13. My problems had been solved. I spent he next couple years sleeping with my peers. I didn’t really want to but they made me feel important. I was making good grades. I was a great cheerleader. I was popular. I went to church. For some reason I still cried myself to sleep at night. The only things that stopped the tears were self harm or sex. Both of which had continued to get me in trouble. When I got drunk for the first time, I thought I’d found the cure to depression. I was invincible! Until my senior prom when I realized being drunk took away my motor skills so severely that I could keep unwanted hands out of my pants. Shit. What now? I knew what I was doing wasn’t working but I was also certain I wouldn’t be content without some form of relief.
When I was offered an opiate, an OxyContin pain killer to be exact, it was as if my prayers had been answered. Finally! Something to make me feel as beautiful and genius as ever without hindering my motor skills! It didn’t take long after that. I went back for more a couple times. After about two weeks, when I asked for more, the dealer only had heroin. I wasn’t afraid of anything. I googled how to shoot heroin and never looked back. The habit became expensive. I was physically dependent, dope sick without it. Over the course of the step few years I stole from my parents, from my boyfriends parents, my neighbors, until finally I thought there was nothing left to sell. I was homeless, hopeless, and seemingly helpless. I called my drug dealer. I asked if he could just front me some heroin one more time. I promised him I’d pay him soon. He told me he wasn’t giving me anymore fronts. He told me he had a better idea. He told me that if I sucked his dick, he’d give me drugs and money. I hung up the phone. I called my boyfriend and told him the preposterous proposition I’d just been given. My boyfriend reminded me that we’d both be sick the next day if I didn’t do it. I swallowed what little bit of pride I had left and called the drug dealer back. We met at toysrus is river gate. I treated it like a date, he treated it like what it was. When I was finished, I threw up. I went back to hotel I was staying in at the time. I showered and scrubbed my skin until it bled. I hated myself even more then that I ever did before. I promised myself it was just one time that tomorrow I’d be able to keep a job and that would keep my high. It didn’t just happen once. To tell you he truth, the first two weeks of it were terrible. It was awkward and disgusting. Pretty soon, though, I couldn’t feel anything anymore. Every ounce of dignity I thought I’d ever have was gone. I was a prostitute. After I while, I remember getting a call. It was time to go. This time, the client I was meeting lived pretty far out. I stood up from the hotel bed and stepped in something wet. I was wearing socks. I hate stepping in something wet while wearing socks. I looked in the mirror. My hair looked wet. It wasn’t. It had just been that long since I’d washed it. The clothes I was wearing were stolen. I was hungry. All of a sudden, I thought of my father. I thought of the pony rides he used to take me on and how he used to tell me I could be whatever I wanted to be when I grew up. I thought about who I actually became. It was a brief moment of clarity that faded when the phone rang again. It wasn’t long after that that my boyfriend decided to get clean.
I was terrified of being by myself, so I went to a mental hospital and told them I’d kill myself if they didn’t get me off the drugs. I called my mother. I told her I’d be home soon. She told me I wasn’t welcome. Thank God. My parents cutting me off is what saved my life. I went to halfway house in south Nashville. It looked exactly what you might honk a half way house to would look like. I kept using so I got kicked out. That’s when I met lyn. I came to rci and had a home. I laughed until I cried with women just trying to make it through one more day. I was taught how to mop, and not to wash towels with anything but towels. I cried with women when I had nightmares about the men that abused me while I was on the streets. I prayed with Lyn. I played volleyball with other residents. I remember a few months had passed and i unpacked my suit case. I had decided that was home. It still is. I have a house in Donelson. I’m in school to be a nurse. I have a car. I’ve received medical treatment for the hepatitis I contacted while on the streets and been cured. While those blessing are appreciated, the greatest gift recovery has given me is a desire to live. No matter what happens, I want to be alive to see it. None of this would have been possible had it not been for recovery community. I’m 26 years old and I haven’t wanted to die it quite some time. I have 3.5 years clean. You know, the only reason I started going to church was the make sure Godwhy was teaching my boyfriend at the time the right stuff. I remember when I walked in here for the first time. The shame that was on my shoulders. I never stopped believing in God. There was a lot of pain in that. I didn’t feel worthy to be in a building where I knew God was. The jokes of me because two years later, I’m still attending this church and it not to protect Justin anymore. It’s to thank God for my life and to learn how to show others his mercy. I still have nightmares about the men. Sometimes, I still feel disgusting. In those times, I looked down at my hand and see my wedding band. I’m reminded that God can turn a hoe into a housewife, and I am worthy of that gift.
So I just read that out loud at it was about six minutes. That makes me feel better. Maybe it is possible after all. Writing it though took much longer and now I’m tired.
To be continued..
More Posts from Maggieruthless-blog and Others
“If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”
— Zora Neale Hurston (via clash-official)
wash it all away
I put my Galaxy S4 in the washing machine about a week ago. Clearly, it was an accident. I was ten kinds of fucked up over it. My parents got me this expensive phone for Christmas because they trusted me, they knew I wouldn’t pawn it like I have everything else in my life. It was the only thing I have that held any value. My mother and I took it to two different cell phone repair stores. Last night we had to give up and accept that the Galaxy was gone for good. It was time to let the grieving process begin but then low and behold my mother bought me another phone right there on the spot for my birthday! I love it. I love her, I love my family. I’m so blessed. Now, there’s more. I think. As the days go by I get more and more comfortable with who and where I am. That’s beautiful. My intensive out patient classes are getting to be more bearable. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I’m just not going to be allowed to work in a restaurant so I best get out there and do something because I can’t continue to let my parents pay for it all. Jess is Jess. I love him, he loves me. We’re trying to work it out where we can see one another more often. He obviously doesn’t handle life very well without me. Oh, wait. You don’t know. I’m too proud to even write it out for you. Why is it that I always get along with the guys better? I went out with a few the other night. One was weary because we’re not really supposed to hang out with other people in our program but by the end he said I was like one of the guys and okay to be brought out like that. Why, thank you, that’s really what I was looking for, your approval ha. No. It still felt nice I guess. Is it wrong to enjoy attention? There is this guy that pretended to be all brotherly at the convention and I found yesterday he’s been telling everyone that he just wanted to fuck me. Now that, I don’t appreciate. I was seeing red last night after being told about it. There was more said of course to make me so angry. I did the right thing, though. I was given that information in confidence so it was not my place to take care of it. I just know that I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he knows that I’m not going for that shit. Even talking about it fuck with me. I can’t count how many times that message has been delivered to me. That’s what’s sick about it. What do I do to attract that nasty and attention. You know, the wrong kind of attention. To be honest, I think it’s because men see and talk to me then automatically think I can be easily manipulated or taken advantage of. And I’ll give them that, that’s usually the case. However, I’m so oblivious to it when they’re doing it that they don’t really get the chance to take that vantage. Then I find out like this, typically from another guy trying to sneak his way into my pants. It’s sad really. Don’t pay me a compliment because I’ll never take you serious. Believing guys like that has helped get me to the torn to shit emotional state that I live in now. Thank you baby, thank you so much. I sound like I’m all negative. I’m not. I just need to make these things clear to myself, you know? When it’s written down it’s always easier to understand, to see what I’m doing wrong or right in their eyes, apparently. We’re going to play volleyball tonight. He will be there and so will he and so will he. Confusing, I know. We’ll see how it goes. It cant be that bad. Right?
write first
Usually, I scroll through tumblr to look at what’s been posted since I last wrote. I do this with the intent of writing afterwards, but I never make it that far. I’m doing it backwards this time. Write first then reward myself with scrolling.
I’m here to catch up, I think. I still haven’t heard anything from APSU. I have not reason to panic for another 20 days. The application said acceptance letters would be sent out on or before June 15. I did find out that I have the necessary credits to graduate with my Associate in Science from VolState. I take my exit exams Tuesday. It will be so lovely to finally have something to show for the last 2.5 years. I can’t really achieve much with that degree but it’s imagine it still looks nice on your resume.
I picked up Layla (step daughter) after work today. We have her for the half of summer. She lied to me a few moments ago. I had to tell her to cut her TV off. The remorse in her voice is almost too much to bear. I see why Justin (husband) has a hard time disciplining her. I’m exited to have her this summer. She’s going to church camp and swimming lessons though so that will take some time from us.
Nancy and Jim are still together. They began paying for a ring. I can’t exactly tell who’s being distanct, me or her. I think it’s both but more heavily on me. I chose to stay with her through this. I need to make the effort to do that.
Justin starts a new job next week. He will be back on days. We are overjoyed. I just pray this job works out well. I hope he loves it and I hope they love him enough to take care of him if the buyout doesn’t end well.
I thought I had more to say.
chances of impulse
Do you think that maybe, just maybe, they really are okay with being just friends? Or maybe they’re just really lonely. Either way I’ll take it over being used. We just watched tv for an hour and a half. Simple. I know he tried to be a good friend. Whereas him, Idk how to read. I can see in his eyes and the way he talks that he’s got some dark secrets behind those eyes. I can see that it’s hard for him to be okay with opening up. But, come on, you can’t just not talk. You can possibly be as apathetic as you pretend to be. and you, you can’t possible care about me the way you say you do. Why me? Why not all the other girls. I hope you all show your colors soon before I go color blind.
I don’t know why but I did it again last night. It was impulsive. It popped into my head and I got up walked to the bath room and did it like it was brushing my teeth. Without flinching or blinking. I ran over the first one a few times then decided it was inadequate and I needed to take advantage of the chance I was taking. So I did it twice more around the same spot. I wasn’t satisfied because the utensil was dull, but it had to do because I had people to see and places to be.
I didn’t lie, I just changed my mind.
This ring I accidently shoplifted from earth bound, well I’ve decided it will be my sanity ring. It says, “wherever you go, there you are”. I thought a lot about what this could mean and I decided that for me it means that the journey is the destination. And as long as I’m wearing it, I’ll remember everything will be okay. And as long as I wear it I’ll know that I’m awake.
more on unconsciousness;
I am so fucking pissed.
How could he? How could anyone be okay with that?
I hate you. Everything about you screams scumbag. I wonder how many girls you’ve drugged. And every one at Heritage thinks you’re just the sweetest little male cheerleader with your poor cracked skull. Oh, give me a break. You probably only cracked your skull because you stole my medicine. You are a pathetic excuse of a gentleman. How could any girl in their right mind even use your name and that word in the same sentence. I will figure out someway to make you regret this. I remember the day I asked you what you did that night because I was hurting so much when I woke up next to you. You replied, “Oh, don’t worry about it sweetheart, you’ll be fine.”
I’ve gone from rage, to hysteric tears. I HATE YOU.
“God in my heart or heroin in my veins”
— Heard in meeting (via kelseymmc)
one rut or another
If there is one thing I know how to do without a doubt, it’s fuck up my life. And that my friends is not a skill that can be turned into an asset. I won’t give up. They say to use is to die and I’m not sure about all that but I know using wasn’t solving any of my problems at least not long term anyway. Nothing will ever come close to the warmth in your chest when you slide that needle out of your neck. It may have been a while since I’ve pulled a needle out of my neck but that doesn’t mean that everything about it is healed. I’m at an NA conference with my new halfway house. I’ve ran into two people I used to get high with. One looks really good, the other looks like he/she has been through hell so I’m happy that when shit hits the fan this where he/she ended up. I’m alone and I’m empty, but I’m clean today. I can be grateful for that if nothing else. My selfish ass can’t help but think about how I’ll ever live without my emotional numbing medication. It hides even the worst of tragedies from me if only for a moment, it seems worth it. However, I’m destroying myself and those around me. My health was/is declining, my family has to be more important than that desire. This new halfway house is in Madison which is closer to Jess and my family. It’s called RCI. Recovery Community Inc. They made me quit my job. They said I don’t need to be in the serving industry for at least 3 months. I make too much money to fast apparently and there just happens to be dope there. Often times. It’s everywhere just more accessible in restaurants sometimes. So, I don’t have a job which makes me feel all the more worthless. My mind never stops bouncing in and out of using and not picking up. What a miserable place to be, mentally. There are some people that broke me in high school and even since then. Some that I’ll never forgive and I still wouldn’t wish this on them, on my worst enemies. This life means an uncertain death. When you’re using you know your breaths are numbered due to the dope slowly suffocating you. In sobriety they seem to be just as numbered only now it’s my own mind that is suffocating me. Living seems too hard at times. But I am not a coward. I’m a junkie, I’m a slut, I’m a liar, I’m a thief, I am scared, but I am not a coward. Things with my boyfriend went from beautiful to heart breaking so quickly I almost forgot why. I love him and I know he loves me so we are working past it whether or not this is his last chance, I won’t know until that time comes but things have gotten better almost just as quickly as they had gotten worse. And I am grateful for that, as well. He’s my support. He’s my heart. I’m not willing to let that go today. That’s all I want to say on that subject. It’s not even one o’clock yet and I’ve ran out of things to do to look busy. Pretty soon I’ll have losers hitting on me and kiss asses dragging me into activities. You know your appearance has taken a nose dive by the guys that his on you. I’m not sure If that comes across the way I want it to but, what the hell. Who do I really have to impress anymore? Sobriety has taken almost just as much as addiction did. In sobriety my parents took my car, my house director took my job, I don’t have a home, and I barely have a boyfriend, I suppose the friends I had out there weren’t real friends but they were there and now there is no one there, ever. If you’re trying to get clean, don’t take any of this to heart. I’m so grateful to not be waiting for the dope man in 30 degree weather. I’m so glad to have clean clothes to wear. I’m so happy to wake up without needing a shot to get out of bed. And I am aware that everything is going to be okay. It’s just making it to that point.
crystal
I’m home right now, first time in three nights. Jenn wanted Jessie and I to stay at Pat’s there with her but I knew it was time to come home. It was nice to be able to talk to my sister. I hate that I have to be afraid here. If I would do what I was told though, there would be no trouble. I just got so sleepy suddenly. I’m starting to make progress. Watching the clock, waiting for your clean hour to come is the worst part. It’s scary having to wonder how bad the night will be when your doing things the way I am. Nodding, goodnight.
stay, good girl.
I hate her so much. Yet, she’s my “best friend”. Best friends do not do what she did to me. Best friends don’t treat eachother like I treat her. But then again, nothing in my life ever goes as planned.
School tomorrow, then work. I like to keep busy. Idle time is the devil’s candyshop. Or something like that.
Brandon, my boyfriend, has been acting different. Well, come to think of it, maybe I’m the only one acting different. Having people constantly remind me that him and I don’t go together makes it hard to remain stable in the relationship. They say he’s controlling and doesn’t respect who I am. What do they know, right?
I cut myself shaving earlier. It felt great.
Let’s hope I can stay in my bed tonight.
Let's give this one more try.
My last tumblr was abrubtly exposed my a friend of mine’s mother. She’s always in their business. So to avoid any nonsense about things I had written I deleted mine as soon as she started questioning it. My friend and her sister stopped using it. They didn’t see any point in it with their mother checking up on it everyday. I’ve given it a while to cool down and so far I’ve seen no sign of her or them here. So, I signed on to a new tumblr. Hi. Needless to say, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
I’ve lost access to both my original blogs. I’m using this one to save some of those memories.
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