“Every One Says Forgiveness Is A Lovely Idea, Until They Have Something To Forgive”

six

I’ve found that although it’s the truth that burns sliding from your tongue to your lips, it is often the only way you can really breathe again. I would rather be told the truth and work past it than be fed lies and spend years building on such a faulty foundation. Often times though, I can feel it in the way they say it that I know something isn’t right but I try not to get confrontational without any sound evidence. And even then sometimes I’m too much of a coward to bring up the lie because the truth is usually hidden for a reason. I know that it’s time that changes. I know that if nothing else the lies aren’t right. I can’t say if anything else is wrong or right in our relationship but I do know lying doesn’t really have many exceptions. I’m really sick of staying up waiting for hin to call, wondering what it is he’s still doing at 1:30 am that he can’t pull away to tell me he loves me and he’s okay. It hurts so much to admit these things to you because that means I have to admit I’ve always known something was wrong. I don’t know how he does it but when he finally does call me anything that comes out of his mouth sounds like music. His excuses suddenly make more sense than my rationality.  At least I can say I get off the phone feeling better even if it is just a false sense of emotional security. I met with my sponsor today. She’s so beautiful. She’s from north Ireland and her accent is beautiful. She’s smart too, of course. She’s an alcoholic but enjoyed cocaine in large quantities as well. I do my very best to relate to what she says but alcohol was never really my problem. It might have shown me that I can feel alive with a little help.  But sometimes I feel like alcoholics never to go to the great lengths I did to get their drug of choice. However I’ve run out of excuses to keep living so I became willing to do whatever it takes to feel better. My sister graduated tonight. She was really self conscious about it because she’s a student of 2013 but her tassle said 2014. She was grumpy all day. All the attention should have been on her but there are three of us and you can’t put too much pressure on parents for handling things the right way.  She will learn that. She will learn, a lot. Hopefully not too much, and not the way I had to learn. I pray she can learn from the mistakes of my brother and I who have done this all before. I feel confident in saying she doesn’t have the addict gene and I can only pray she stays on the right medication and continues to improve. Phases, the halfway house I relapsed in called me tonight. The house manager, Julia, said that some if the girls had been petitioning her about me coming back. She said that she thought about it and she wants me to come back. I’m not sure how I feel about it.  I was going to go to Foot Prints. You can still have your phone the first 30 days until 6 and guys can pick you up and drop you off or anything you want really. I had grown to love the women at Phases, though. It’s all a shot storm of catch 22s’.  Heaven help me.

check in

I haven’t said very much, lately. I’ve been writing a lot more. Tonight I went to the carnival, threw up on one of the rides, and had the time of my life. Last night, I played volleyball then a friend rented a bicycle downtown and had me sit in the basket as we rode through the park. Everything is going to be okay. Jess and I aren’t together. Some days are great and some days hurt like hell. I’m still staying clean. I’m still in the halfway house. I’m gaining my parents trust back. I’m working. I’m smiling. I’m not giving up.

“Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?”

— Friedrich Nietzsche, Good and Evil

This one time, I wore eye liner..

Surprise, Tumblr, I have braces! Hopefully, I will have them off in ten weeks (making it four years that I’ve had them) and I will actually smile in public without having to think twice. My point is, look at the purple flowers!

*others

precipitation

It’s 1:41 am and it’s raining outside. No one will ever know what the sound of rain drops hitting the ground means to me, but I’ll try to explain. When I was on heroin, I drove a beat up Toyota with no drivers side window. Every morning I’d wake up hoping it was dry outside. Regardless of the weather, rain, sleet, or snow, I’d still have to drive downtown to cop. Otherwise, I’d be miserably dope sick, unable to get out of bed. Back then, I didn’t watch the news because regardless of what that weather man said, I still had to go out and drive in it. Today, however, is different. Today I can watch the news, see that a storm is coming and plan ahead. Today I have a choice as to whether or not I drive in the current conditions. Hearing the rain tap the asfalt over and over again reminds me that I have a choice. It reminds me that I don’t ever have to use again. It reminds me that I made bad choices, but I’m not a bad person. It reminds me to help overs in this journey of recovery. It reminds me I lived through many things I shouldn’t have. It reminds me that I’m a miracle. It reminds me that we do recover.

..what do you want from me?

I suppose the reason I’m not honest with you is because I don’t trust you.  Please, make me trust you.  Your intentions are blurred from where I stand. 

fuck

The text I was in the process of posting just deleted somehow.  If this is any indication of how the rest of my day is going play out, I’m going back to bed.  Which is funny because I couldn’t if I wanted to considering every morning I work I’m stranded in Madison until the bus comes. I might as well go to work, at least when I’m there I get paid for being miserable. Heaven help me.

What is it like to have a best friend?

I’ve wondered that my entire life. It appears I expect too much. My best friend’s exhusband was just released from jail. She’s back hanging on his every word which means I’m lucky to get a text back. I’m used to it by now. He leaves: she’s mine. He comes back: he’s hers. My sponsor says I’m begin selfish about the entire situation. I’ve cried with her over how much of a shitbag he is for years now. I feel it’s only normal for me to grow tired of this cycle. When I analyze why I feel such a resentment towards his release, I do find that it’s rooted in jealousy. Jealous, at its core, is a selfish emotion. Great. I’m selfish. Now, what? Why do I require so much attention? Mary Ann didn’t invite me out tonight or last night. Kennie leigh didn’t tell me she was going to Chicago. Why does that make me feel like I’m not good enough? One might argue that after I learn to love myself I won’t need so many people to prove to me that they love me. Sure. I’ll buy that. But why then, after three and a half years of step work, prayer, and meetings, do I still feel as alone as I did from the start? I have a theory, one the usually proves true. I’ll start my period next week. Wild emotions always show their colors the week before my period. So much so, that I can’t remember how I felt before. Did Maryann’s absence of an invitation bother me last week? I’m honestly not sure. That’s what’s so bizzare about mental illness, if that’s what this is. I heard in a meeting Thursday that the most insidious characteristic of the disease of addiction is its ability to convince you you’re not sick. When you have cancer, your white blood cell count proves your sick. The weakness in your limbs reminds you constantly that you need medication. Addiction turns a bad day into a bad life in an instance. After an hour, you’ve convinced yourself that you were never sick to begin with, you’re just equipped with faulty machinery that will never function properly, despite the maintenance. On contraire, the truth is cancer patients need chemotherapy, and addicts need one another.

Tomorrow, or maybe next week, I’ll find humor in how hopeless I’m feeling right now, but what do I do in the mean time? Hang on, of course. Don’t use. That’s not even on the radar. Pray, always. I just want a group of people that are going to surround me for years to come, people that never make me question their love for me, people that rejoice and cry with me, people that don’t hurt me. Maybe, that’s the answer! Maybe that doesn’t exist. If I am asking for people who provide divine friendship, I’m not really asking for people, am I?

This is what I’ve missed about an online journal. Sometimes, I’m too tired or lazy to go sit under a lamp and put pencil to paper. It’s not often that I’m too lazy to stare at my phone. Here I am, laying next to husband of 20 days, in a dark bedroom, at 11pm, pouring my heart out to God, myself, and whoever else cares to listen.

How intriguing! That last sentence alone gave me enough gratitude to lift my chin from the dust. Even if it only lasts a moment, I’m reminded of how blessed I am. My bed is so comfortable. There’s a clock sitting on my dresser so I can tell the time at all hours of the night. That’s important, you see, because for a long time, it didn’t matter what the time was. As a matter of fact there were only two times in my previous life. If I was well, it was time to scheme money for when I inevitably became dope sick. If I was sick, it was time cop dope. It didn’t matter if the sun was out or not. It didn’t matter if I had money or not. It didn’t matter if I had been asleep yet. There was never enough daylight, money, or sleep to make up for the way I was living my life.

There’s my answer. It doesn’t matter what it feels like to have a best friend. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here to make this world a better place. I don’t need a best friend to do that. I need gratitude and God. As long as I have that, I’ve received more than I was promised. The promise Narcotics Anonymous gave me was that I would have freedom from active addiction. That’s it. It doesn’t matter if I get into nursing school. It doesn’t matter if I’m respected. That’s not what I’m after. All I ever dreamed for was the desire to live. Tonight, I have so much more than that.

“Heartache is good. Accept it joyously. Allow it, don’t repress it. The natural tendency of the mind is to repress anything that is painful. By repressing it you will destroy something that is growing. The heart is meant to be broken. It’s purpose is to melt into tears and and evaporate. When the heart has evaporated exactly in the same place where the heart was, you come to know the deeper heart.”

—

Osho

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