one day at a time

today i have sixty days clean. i can’t believe my fingers just typed that. i can be 100 percent honest when i tell you i have never had sixty days clean or sober in my life…i’m sure many of you can identify with that.

its been an incredible journey so far, not easy in an sense of the word, but it is so worth it. getting sober is the single most important thing i will ever do with my life, because nothing else will happen unless i get this. there will be no future for me if i go back out. 

so much has happened in the past years of my life. i will never lack for writing material, that’s for sure. when i was still active, i thought my life would get so boring once i put the drugs down. i couldn’t have been more wrong. my life is taking on a whole new dimension, and i am growing exponentially, one day at  a time.

i’ve been having a hard time the past couple days, i am in the midst of working steps 4 and 5 of my program and it takes alot out of you. i’m having to take a look at myself, what i’ve done, and the reasons behind all those actions. i don’t like to admit i’ve been selfish and insecure and hurtful. but i have.

but admitting these things frees me of them, and although i know its a very long road ahead, i look forward to the journey. every moment is not a good one, but the good outweigh the bad today, and that’s more than i ever expected.  i am so grateful for these past sixty days, and i hope to make it many more. but all i can worry about is today….

anything but sick

2:00 my sleep is restless. i roll over. again. something just isn’t right. what the hell. i have to work in like five hours, can i please get some sleep? i had been in and out of conciousness for hours. it had been about six hours since the last shot of the day. i had taken it way too early, in leu of eating dinner. i just couldn’t help myself. it was sitting there, in the draw, calling my name.  softly at first…then louder and louder in the annals of my mind until i couldn’t take it anymore. so i took it.  sure, you can cop before work, why the hell not, you do it all the time. kristin will answer the phone, she’s always up and out the door before seven. there’s no way you’ll get sick before sunrise. this is my addiction speaking.  and i believed it.

wrong again.

it was barely two in the morning, and i feelThe Sickness creeping into my bones, building up in my blood, and settling on my nerve endings. its going to be a long night. how could i do this again? goddamnitalltohell. anything but sick, please, anything but sick.

2:37 the sweats. everybody’s favorite tell tale sign you are dopesick. the most vile part of the ordeal. i am so fucking cold, and no ammount of blankets will warm me. all it does is feed the sweat. i have a puddle in the small of my back, and gooseflesh all over my broken body. the smell of dope hangs on me like death. i want to vomit. but i don’t want to bother getting up. i roll over again, and the sheets stick to me.

2.44 i’m up. i don’t know how i got the strength, but i’m up.  pulling the classic junky move that nobody like to admit they do…rinsing bags and doing cottons. my hands are shaking, and i’m using a flashlight, so i don’t wake up casey. (god only knows how he did up, but he always slept through his dopesick. i fucking hate his guts right now.) there aren’t that many empties, and we casey never leaves the cottons wet enough…and its never enough to really get you off e. i think it’s mostly mental. just the act of setting something up gives you momentary peace. just that feeling of the pinprick in that old familiar spot, makes your soul quiet, even if only for that 10 minutes. and i’ll take what i can get in this mayhem. after i do the cleaning shot, i sit back, just as sick. and curse myself for waisting all this time. casey’s gonna tweak on me when he sees i did the cleaning. fuck him.

3:12 my eyes are wide awake, and my legs are screaming out for something i don’t know the name to. i don’t want to get up but i can’t sit still. i feel like i’ve got termites knawing my my synapses. it’s unbearble. i kick and i flip and nothing helps. i am so tense the muscles in my legs cramp up and i feel like i am being quatered. i can’ t do this, i can’t wait until seven, what am i gonna do what am i gonna do? i start to cry…four hours and 45 minutes to go.

3:38 how could that have only been 15 minutes. i must be losing my mind. how the fuck did i get here again. i am so done i am so over this godforsaken bullshit. just kill me just fucking kill me….

4:05 i rock back and forth in the fetal position, once a nurse in a detox told me this soothed the unease. she’s full of shit. i kick my legs rhythmically, trying to quell the wrenching in my muscles. nothing helps. it will never stop. time isn’t pasing. i’m in hell. i’m stuck here. i’ll never get better.

4:40 i am bent over the toilet, fingers jammed down my throat in a throwback to my bulemia days. i had this brilliant thought that if i could just puke…my stomach would stop hurting so much and i may get a moment’s peace. whatever it was, it came up alright. hot acid up my esouphagus, and it takes all i’ve got left in my. wretching up my soul, tears streaming down my face. i am so cold, and sweat pours out of me. i lay on the cold floor of the bathroom. my hair matted to my face, tears drying on my skin, vomit caked around my mouth. heroin is so fucking glamourous….i am suck a rock star.

5:50 as dopesick progresses, i always end up on the floor for some reason.  my back aches in a way that seeps through my bones and into my being. every nerve on my spinal cord is screaming out curses on me.  i am wrapped in a sweat soaked sheet, rolling from one side of the floor to the other, hoping for some semblance of calm on a different section of rug.  but the calm i’m looking for isn’t in this room…it isn’t in me. i start to cry, again.

6:16 in the final stages of my sickness, i always end up in the same place. on the floor in the shower, curled up in a ball, screaming hot water pelting down on my crippled being. i stay in there until the water gets ice cold. my face pressed up against the wall of the tub, barely breathing. my muscles are on fire, and the more i fight to put it out of my mind, the more i can’t stop obsessing about it. i just need to get straight, why can’t i just get straight this will all go away if i can just get straight what the fuck. i drag myself out of the shower, wrap in a dirty towel i find on the floor, and return to my spot on the carpet in the bedroom. i dont’ even get dressed. what’s the point? as soon as the water warms up i’ll be back in. the first ten minutes after shower therapy are like bliss. i even pass out for five minutes and  sleep the tourtured sleep of a sick junky. but i awaken minutes later, just as hurt as i was before. i go in and out of the shower for the next hour or so, each time the interval of respite i get from it gets smaller and smaller. nothing works forever….

7:02 the phone rings. and rings. and rings. omigodpickupthephoneyoujunkybitchillkillyoupickupthephone.

7:12 the phone rings. please god let her answer this time i can’t do this anymore i swear i’m fucking dying please don’t make me do this anymore answer the phone kristin answer the phone.

8:11 “hello.”

“can i see you?”

“sure, come over.”
i feel better already.

8:13 i am down the stairs in my pajamas, wet hair and no shoes. i steal my fathers keys to his truck that’s not even legal, and i leave a note. “be back in a few minutes.” i am out the door and in the car, down the street.

8:30 i knock on the door. my heart is pounding, my body is throbbing. one mass of pain and misery. there are no words or thoughts, just agony.

“wow, kaia, you look like shit.” she smiles, and hands me three bags as i stand in the doorway.

8:33 my hands are shaking so bad i don’t know if i can draw this up. i take a deep breath and concentrate hard. this is it, this is it. thank you god. but god has nothing to do with this.  i tie off with the string of my pj’s and i hit first try. the blood shot up the barrell of my set and i push that dope in to save my fucking life. warmth rushes over me, and its like the dope killed every thought or feeling i ever had. i am numb once again. and that’s exactly what i want.  gone from my mind is the nightmare i had just endured. i am  safe…for now. 

i am so over this dope shit. this is retarded. i hate my fucking life….i need to get clean….

“so, kaia, you wanna go in on another bundle?” kristin asked, setting us up some coke shots.

“you know i do.” i said, laying back on the bed. i can’t get sick later, now can i ? anything but sick.

who is this girl??

december had been a long month. it was a exersize in excessiveness that i have trouble believing i survived (am i dead right now?) and it all culminated with the return of my brother aaron from basic training. aaron and i have a good solid record of partying together, although he never got as “rock star” as i did, sticking to beer and smoking weed most of his adolescence.  that’s not to say he didn’t get out of control. he’s a blackout drinker who gets violent. but who wasn’t. and so, we partied.

aaron was coming home on the 20th, and i was working at the old folks home still. (how i got that job, i’ll never know) but it was the annual xmas party and i had to be there from 7 to 9.  in my infinite wisdom, i decided to stop @ the dealer’s house earlier that day, you know, just to cop for after work, the party at home would need a little something extra. 

“hey” i walked in the door and sat on the couch. ” i just need a teenth of white and a gram of diesel.” i took my wallet out and shelled over the cash.

“okay, girly.” meg, on of my newest, in town, super convient dealers, sat across from me. “where you headed?” she asked, taking the cash and handing me the bags.

“oh, i gotta work in a couple hours, this shit is for my brother’s coming home party tonite. it should be a fucking rager.” i stood up to leave.

“well, what the hell, you don’t have to be @ work til 7?” she looked up at me.  “you wanna do a shot?”

hmmm. this could end up disasterous. but….free coke?

“sure” and i sat back down, without missing a beat. i followed standard procedure, and before i knew it i was half a gram deep and calling casey to come pick me up.

“i’m busy.” he says. transaltion: i’m getting off.

“come fucking get me, i am going to be late for work and that is not an option again.”

“i’m sorry, kid, i’m buzy.”

“i copped.”

“i’ll be right there.”  gotta love the priorities of the addict.

needless to say, i was late. casey took the drugs home to “keep me from overdoing it.” and i put some blind faith in the hope he wouldn’t do them all.  that wouldn’t make for a good scene, lets just put it that way.

the next three hours were torture. coming off the coke, no dope, and an elvis impersonator santa, not to mention 150 elderly residents and their ill-behaved grandchildren. i sat there, fists clenched, watching the clock tick seconds by one…why do i do this…..two…..never again…..three….that first shot when i get home will be SO worth it….four….i hate my life….five….two friggin minutes have gone by….six….why do i do this?……

after what seemed like two lifetimes, casey picked me up out front. “okay, lets get it.” i said, putting my hand out before the door was even shut.

“i  left it at the house.” he said through clenched teeth.

“why the fuck would you do that, you retard.” this was a bad way to start the night. he’s fucking geeked out of his mind.

“didn’t want to drive with it.” he said.

“what about me? you selfish prick.” i sat back and didn’t say another word. the three minute ride was too long to wait.

we got to the house, and it was bumping. i ran up and gave my brother the biggest hug ever. “i missed you sooo much.” i said, he picked me up and spun me around.

“jesus, kaia, did you lose weight again?” he asked, looking worried.

“yoga, man, i look damn good, right?” i was pushing a buck five at this time, and looked like i was undergoing chemotherapy. but you know how it is….   aaron was already drunk, and i knew i had to catch up.  i made my rounds, saying hi to all of aarons friends. i was pretty close to all of them, due to the fact that i was their in house booze buyer and drug dealer. they were good kids, and everyone once in a while we’d all hang out.  brian and dax were two of aarons best friends, and the most fuct up on drugs, if i had to choose. which meant i knew them the best. i gave them hugs, grabbed a beer, and made my way upstairs for the main event.

“so, lets go, where the fuck is it?” my patients had run out, about 10 minutes before i got to work. casey was fiddling with something, i grabbed the set right out of his hand and was done before he could ask me what my problem was. i sat back and enjoyed the ride. before i was even done rushing, i had my beer in hand and was back downstairs enjoying the party.

time passed like that, me getting progressivly drunker.(which is odd, because when i started mainlining, drinking was a nonissue.  drinking and dope just don’t jive.) i would sneek upstairs every so often to reboost, so to speak. 

i was midpush yet again, about 2 hours later, casey hadn’t moved from his spot next to the bedside table where he had the cooker set up.

“why don’t you come downstairs and be fucking social for once in your life?”

“with those preteen asshole kids? i don’t even know why you bother, we’ve got plenty of coke up here, and you are missing out.”

“whatever, dude.” i said “you wanna clean this for me?” i handed him my dirty set and grabbed my beer, out the door before my head stopped ringing.

as i downed more and more booze, and got deeper into conversation, time escaped me and before i knew it, it was almost 3 am. everyone else had gone home, and it was just me, brian and dax in the kitchen…talking drunk. my brother had passed out an hour or so before, and i hadn’t been upstairs for a booster shot in a while…god only knew if casey was even still alive.  i couldn’t tell you what we talked about, but i remember it being interesting. i was flailing my arms and laughing. we were having a good time.

“so i stopped doing coke.” dax said. i looked at him with disbelief. this kid bought drugs off me on a religious basis. i hadn’t seen him in a while cuz i was running so hard, but i found it hard to believe he had dropped the party just like that.

“get serious, kid.” i said, smiling. dax was a cute kid. 19 years old, pizza delivery kid. classic junky in training. popped pills to numb himself to the fact that his partying had put him in a nullset life. nothing going on, nowhere to go to, no options or ideas. so he partied. and hard. he has moptop brown wavy hair, and blue blue eyes.  and he was looking me up and down with those eyes all night.

now i’ll be the first one to admit, i like attention from cute guys. but i had a boyfriend, and we were serious, and this kid was my brother’s 19 year old friend. rational thought says stay away. i wasn’t that drunk.

but dax mentioning the coke got me thinking. hello, i’ve got drugs upstairs, what the fuck am i doing here? “i’ll be right back.” i was halfway up the stairs before they could even respond.  i opened the door, and casey was sitting on the bed, swilling a beer. that only means one thing….all the coke is gone.

my face got hot.  really hot.

“where the fuck is the coke?” i said, a little too loud for the early hour.

“it’s gone.” he said, channel surfing like i wasn’t even in the room.

“what do you mean its all gone?” i was livid. “i just spent my entire paycheck on that shit, and you fucking did it all?”

“well, you did like a third of it.” he was serious too. no joke.

“you fucking selfish little prick.” i couldn’t even grasp how mad i was or why, i walked over to the bed, pushed him as hard as i could, and took his spot by the cooker. he landed on the floor with a thud that was, again, too loud for the early hour. “what the hell, kaia, you should’ve known better. you know i can’t keep my hands off any thing, you should’ve known i’d do it all if you left me alone long enough.”

that was his rationalization. how fucking pathetic can you be? my heart was pounding out of my chest. half because i was coming off of coke like falling off a bridge, and second because i wanted to rip his fucking throat out. how selfish and greedy and thoughtless and rude and presumptious and mean and stupid and pure fucking evil….i was just this angry. 

so i set up a shot of dope. a big one. a really big one.

“what are you doing?” he asked, alarm on his face.

“mind your fucking business douchebag or i will stab you in the face.” my hands were shaking, and i kept hitting the tip of the set on the bottom of the cooker, making me exponentailly madder. “let me help you.” he walked over to me.  i hit him in the face with the back of my hand, and as he reeled back, shocked, i sat back on the bed to do my shot.

now this is true addiction. the pure and uncontrollable rage of someone stealing your stash followed by the purely logical addict thought of curing the emotion with even more drugs. the more the better. not only to numb your state of mind, but to prove a point to the offender. i’ll fucking show you, this shot will put me down, and you’ll have less than a quarter bag, dickhead. and it made perfect sense at the time.  so tied off, and much to casey’s dismay, did about three quarters of the gram of dope i copped earlier.

“you’re gonna fucking kill yourself.” he hissed.

“what the fuck do you care?” i asked, pulling the set out, and sliding into that warm sticky place… and i felt better instantly. still completley irate, but it was submurged in heroin now, and i could forget for a minute. i got up, threw the dirty set at him, and walked out of the room.

as soon as i got into the kitchen, i knew i had done too much dope. dax and brian were giving me looks like “wow, is that what heroin looks like?” if i wasn’t so jammed, i would’ve been embarassed.  but instead, i thought it was funny.

yeah, you like that, what a fucking rockstar.

we sat up for hours more, and i started to sense a strange energy in the room, even through the thick intoxication i was swimming in.  i could feel dax looking at me, and i could feel brian looking at him. it was obvious they both wanted me, and neither of them could have me.  i derrive some sick pleasure from teasing boys, i guess it feeds my ego. simple enough. so i was a jamm sandwich by this point, in my pj’s running off at the mouth about how hard i party and how cute dax was.  i saw brian getting more and more jealous, and i thought it was hilarious.

finally he’d had enough, and got up “i need a beer.” he said. and walked into the living room, where we were keeping a cooler, still half stocked.  i was leaning against the fridge, cuz i couldn’t stand up straight anymore, and i was babbling on about a 311 show i saw a couple years back. dax had this hungry look in his eye, smiling and nodding as i talked on….he walked over to me, pinned me up against the fridge, and kissed me, hard.  now, i’d like to tell you what was running through my brain at this time, but it was only booze and drugs…no thoughts. i kissed him back, out of instinct if nothing else. he was there, he was cute, and my most basic desires said “why the fuck not?” so i did.  the thought of casey entered my mind momentarily why the fuck should i care about him? he doesn’t care about me. do all my fucking coke see what happens. how do you like it you selfish prick? it’s nice to do what i want when i want and damn everyone else. i see now why you do it so much. god i hate you sometimes.

brian came back, with beers for all three of us. dax bouced back to the other side of the kitchen, and i giggle a little, smoothing out my pj’s and sitting on the floor. brian’s face was puzzled. “what the hell is going on?” he asked, handing me a beer. “nothing, why?” i said. lying came so easily to me, i believed it myself.  “whatever.” he said, sitting on the counter, looking dismal.

“so anyway, 311…” i said,

“i wanna go so bad.” dax said. this was the drunkest i had ever seen him.  he was a stumbling, screaming…just a mess.  and in my sick head, i thought it was cute. “i just wanna be there, with the music, and the people.” he put his hands over his head and spilled beer all over the kitchen floor.

“nice one, asshole.” brian muttered.  he was getting progressivly angrier, which wasn’t a good thing.  but i was oblivious to his mood, i was all wrapped up in other things. 

“oh, crap, i’m sorry kaia, let me clean it up.” dax said, eyeing the mess he’d made. he took off his hoodie and proceeded to mop up the beer with it.
“oh, come on kid, that’s not necessary.” i walked over to him, and pulled him up off his knees. i noticed how wobbly he was, and for a moment i was concerned.  but thoughts and feelings are only sublte interuptions to me at this point, and if fades quickly.  “well, this just won’t do.” i said, smiling widely. this poor kid had no idea what’s going on, and neither did i, for taht matter. all i remember is being so angry with casey for screwing me over AGAIN…and being so drunk, so ready to just severe all ties with him and this life and all this bullshit i hated.  and this kid was slick. he was just like any guy i’ve ever liked…it was like going back in time.  “well, why don’t we wash it?” he asked, taking my hand and leading me to the laundry room.  my stomach knotted up and my heart started thumping (maybe nerves, maybe all the coke, who knows)

i could see brian’s face out of the corner of my eye as the door to the laundry room closed. if i didn’t know any better, i’d say he was jealous.  but what did i care?

i walked over to the washing machine, and dax was on me immediatly. kissing my neck and grabbing at me. i turned around and kissed him back. we were so drunk that we landed in a basket full of laundry, laughing.  as he kissed my neck i opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling. i got a strange feeling like i had been there before. not in that actual place or actual time, but that situation.  fuct up and fucking around with someone i don’t even know, because it takes me out of myself and makes me forget all the things in my life i can’t deal with.  just another escape. once the thought occured to me, the fun was over.  “uh, dax, this isn’t a good idea.” i said, trying to get up.  “i think its ingenious.” he breathed, pushing up against me. “my boyfriend is upstairs.”  “that didn’t matter a minute ago.” he was right. “come on, this is too much.” the more i thought about how fuct up we were, how fuct the situation was in general, i was sobered by shame.  i finally pushed him off of me and wriggled my way out of the laudry.  i had a strange feeling in my gut as i walked out of the bathroom.

the kitchen was empty. “brian?” i asked. i felt bad about leaving him out there, not to mention i had probably hurt his feelings. i walked into the dining room to appologize, and out the window, in the early morning sunrise, i saw him standing on the front porch, talking to casey. this can’t be good. i opened the door just in time to catch the end of the conversation “….i just thought you should know, kid.” brian said, and cut himself off when he saw me standing there. “kaia, hi.”
“what the fuck is this bullshit?” i demanded.

“shouldn’t i be asking you that question?” casey asked, looking genuinly hurt. i remember thinking it was the first time i’d see an actual emotion on his face in a very long time.
“whatever, asshole. you treat me like dirt all the time, you rip me off, you steal my shit, you leave me behind…its about time i repaid you for all that. besides, i’m done with it.” getting drunk had always made it easier to break up with boys. looking back on it now, i’d used alcohol as breakup lubrication more than once.

“what are you saying, kaia?” casey asked, looking more angry than sad now. wow, two emotions in one sitting, this was big.

“i’m over it, you are no good for me, i’m not fucking happy. i never will be, just go.” in my regular fashion, i was making a complete scene. the birds were chirping it was so early, and i’m drunk, on the front porch, screaming at the top of my lungs. classic kaia.

“you want me to go, i’ll fucking go. and i’ll take everything that goes with me. the connections, the money, the drugs. you’ve really done it this time. the kid’s fucking 19, you’re out of your mind.” and he was gone. walking down the street. i watched him walk away, feeling strangly empty.

i turned around, and there was brian.

“what the hell did you do that for?” i asked. “you should mind your own goddamn business.”

“i was just looking out for you, that kid is no good for you, he keeps you in dope and he doesn’t love you.” 

in my current state of drug induced stupor, this 20 year old kid was making perfect sense. “you’re right, fuck him. i don’t need that shit. where did dax go?” i had just happened to notice he wasn’t in the kitchen anymore.

“oh, when he heard the ruckus, he bolted.”

“he drove home like that?” i was shocked. the kid was puking in the sink an hour ago.

“he always pulls that shit. especially when he hooks up with random chicks.”

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“oh, you know, dax is, like, known for hooking up with girls when hes hammered like that.”

i don’t know what i had expected from screwing around with a kid like that, i got some jolt of my teenage years back. but along with that came back those familiar feelings i thought i had outgrown.  regret. feeling like i was used. feeling slutty. knowing i only did it cuz i was waisted, feeling out of control. i didn’t like it.

then the fear set in. i had just broken up with casey. what the fuck was i gonna do now? i started to cry. but looking back i don’t think it was out of sadness over losing our relationship, it was fear of how i was going to keep on….the first thought that occured to me was “how am i gonna get off e tomorow?” i ran upstairs and found he had left me a shot for the morning.  thank fucking god.  at least he’s not completely heartless.  so i was all set for the a.m., but that did not ease my anxiety in the least…what about 3 hours after the wake up, and the endless need i felt in my gut. it was never quieted, i was always scared…anything but sick. anything but sick.  maybe this breakup was ill concieved. it was at this moment i realized how dependent i was on casey. the money was his, most of the connections were his, he did most of the work, and i provided the crash spot. now i had a place to sleep, but that was not even on my priority list. i was in a panic. tears streamed down my face. i wanted to do that wakeup so bad. just to quiet the fear…but then what would i do in the morning. it would be insane to do it then.

i rolled up my sleeve and shot the dope. without hesitation.

there was a knock at my door. i put the set away and opened the door. it was brian. i wiped some tears from my eyes, as the heroin hit my blood yet again that evening i was granted a temporary reprieve from myself. “what do you want?” i asked, feeling froggy now that i was high again.

“i just wanted to say i’m sorry for the way things went down tonight.” he said, walking into the room without being invited.

“i just don’t know what the hell is going on anymore.” i said, tears coming easily once again. i started telling him about the drugs and the habitual emptiness, how i was suddenly questioning my motives with casey, and how i feared for the morning…he gave me a hug, and we sat on the bed. i talked on until i hit a nod, which is a rarity for me, so i gave into it. i grabbed that oblivion with both hands and swam deep down into it…..

i dont’ know how much time passed, but i awoke some time later, there were hands on me. suddenly i had a very vivid feeling i had been there before, in a very vunerable position, and being violated.  brian was pulling on my pajamas, tugging in a way that made it obvious he didn’t want to wake me.

oh no you fucking don’t.  “what are you doing?” i hissed, pulling away.

“nothing, i just thought…”

“thought what, get the fuck away from me.” and i pulled away and he got on the floor.”  i passed out again immediatly, and when i awoke in the morning, i had some faint hope that it was all a dream.

not the case.

there i was, hungover as hell, hours from dopesick, without a boyfriend, without any money. what i did have was a passed out 20 year old who tried to rape me sleeping on my floor, and a guilt that sat in my stomach like a stone…i can’t believe this shit.

it was like i had gone back in time. these were acts i commited when i was in high school. these are things i thought i had outgrown, these are things a little girl does to get attention. i was better than that.

not the case.

i lay there in bed, wracking my saturated brain for the next logical step (sure, logic played a big role in my life at this time) it was clear i had no choice. i needed to get high before i could even deal with the trainwreck i had caused.  so i put my life and my feelings on hold, stole some money out ofa wallet in the living room (belonging to one of my brother’s friends…remnant of the previous night’s debauchy) and walked to the dealer’s house. 

who am i? idon’t even know anymore. i do and say all these things…i feel so alien to myself. who the fuck is this girl? whatever….

 i’ll fix it. i’ll figure it out. it will all be okay. i just gotta get off first…..

evolution

i’m putting alot of effort into developing my character, evolving into  a girl i think deserves respect. it’s a welcome change for me, because i never thought i would respect myself, nevermind expect respect from those around me.  but it all comes down to respect from within first. if i do things in my life that i think are right and just, and make a concious effort every day to be the best person i can be, i will in time, learn to love myself and see myself as worthy, and then my peers will see that eminate from inside and share that feeling. you truely must love yourself before you can love anyone else, or before anyone else can truely love you. how do they even know who they’re “loving” if you don’t know yourself.

so i make a true effort each day to correct the defects of my character that keepm me from being the person i want to be. i try not to dwell on the past or obsess about the future, because i have no control over either of those things. i try to live right now, in this exact moment, becuase that’s the only time i have an effect on. i try not to gossip (which is harder than it sounds) i try not to give my opinion on other people’s actions or lives, unless it directly effects me, and then i try to go to them instead of spilling it behind their backs. i try to speak only positive things, and to be forgiving, and to understand that people usually don’t do things just to be hateful, it’s usually because they are hurt or afraid, just like i am alot of the time. i try to be empathetic, and walk in their shoes, before i attack. 

i try not to let fear govern my every move. its incredible, when i actually stop and look at my life, i have been so afraid. of what people think of me, of what people do to me, if someone will leave me, or if they won’t leave me alone. when and how was i gonna get off e, how did i make money, who wasn’t gonna pay me, who did i owe. what was i gonna tell my mother. what was i gonna do with my life. when was this finally gonna kill me.  but i don’t have to feel that way anymore. i put faith in the simple idea that if i do good things, good things will happen, and it seems to be working out so far.

but its easy to spout all this spirituality when things are good. it’s when the hardships come (and come they will) that my true growth will be tested. but i believe that if i did today what i did yesturday, tomorrow looks pretty hopeful.  and its the work i do today that will prepare me for the days that arent so sunny….

finding time

i’ve been so busy actually living life that i’ve been working on this one story whenever i get the chance…but i’m still not done yet…

but i wanted to share a thought on that as well. finding time to appreciate the quiet moments in my life.  the seconds where i can just sit back and abosorb life around me. sounds and shapes and thoughts that flow like a spring through my head, in and out without much effort…most of the time in sobriety i am on the go…working and meetings and helping friends, spending time doing the things i love so much, art and music, theater, and food of course.  but i also need that serene time of near nothingness, a medetative state, almost, to center myself, or else i get caught up in the whirlwind….

and i find the best time for me to do this is on the train. alot of ppl i know in the city loathe the T, but i don’t mind at all. i use the time to be truely in the moment, i look out the window and just take in the live action outside, i watch the sun come through the trees as we fly by, i watch the people marching like worker ants, i watch the faces of my traveling companions…which is one of my favorites. i try to see who’s having a good day, who’s not so much. i wonder where each person is going…what their life is like.  it makes me feel more connected to the world around me, more part of it all.  it blows my mind to think that every single person on that train, just like me, has a family and a life and a whole exsistance i know nothing of…its so vast. 

i listen to the hum of the train, i listen to the sounds of ppl’s voices and the tick of the tracks, and it makes a soundtrack to the ride that will never be duplicated. i sink into the moment neck deep and just soak in it…there is something sublime in that pure moment. 

that’s the only time i’ve been able to get lately…and i appreciate it more everyday. 

true colors

as an addict, i’ve spent my whole life hiding who i really was. from everyone around me, and especially myself.  now, i do know one thing for sure, i’ve  come to a point in my life where i am finally getting to know who i am.  what i want, who i want to become, where i want to go, and who i  want to be with.  it’s become increasingly clear to me that i’ve spent my life thusfar settling for less. way less. 

especially when i look at the people i surrounded myself with. we were all struggling just to survive, and i understand that, but it doesn’t excuse the way we treated each other. i often found myself in a world of hurt due to my blind faith that other junkies would “do the right thing”.  although i wasn’t always successful, i did my best to be a good person. (which is factually impossible when using) i made the fatal mistake of comparing myself to others to justify my behavior…~i stole mom’s checkbook, yeah, but at least i didn’t go on that B&E last night~…

so i’ve got alot of guilt to deal with. not only with what i’ve done, but what i allowed to be done to me.  i really sold myself short.

now that i’m trying to get clean, i want to put myself around ppl that are a positive example, that live life by the principles i’m trying to adopt, and that treat me like i’m starting to think i deserve.  and now that my head is clear, and i see myself in better focus, i can see others for what they are too.

not that i’m trying to take anyone else’s personal inventory, that’ s not how i mean it. it just seems to me, as i grow and learn more about myself, i can see other ppl clearer as well. i can see when ppl are being dishonest, or trying to shift the focus from themselves to their peers.  i can see when someone feels insecure, or is just lashing out. its almost psychic, i feel like i can understand other people’s feelings and motives in a way i never did before.  i feel empathy for all those around me. and it keeps me from harboring resentments against people.  even if they make me angry or directly do me harm, i don’t see them as i used to…out to get me, hating me, just being mean because they are sadistic. instead i see them as they are…sick. it’s not an excuse, but it helps me understand that it’s not directed at me, or because of me, it’s something inside them they hate, and that helps me let go of anger and hurt feelings and just move on with my life.

which is invaluable in a place like a halfway house. because you are surrounded by the sickest of the sick (myself included) fresh out of detox, no real recovery, not even sure if they wanna get clean. full of bad feelings and old behaviors.  just cuz you’re sober doesn’t mean you have changed much.  and as i pull myself out of the mire and try to clean up, i see everyone still struggling, and i feel for them.  but i cannot get caught up in it anymore. i see the reality of it, and i have to do what i know is right, and distance myself from it.

addicts are like crabs in a sand pail.  they are so desperate to climb out and get free that they flail around and climb on top of each other to get to the top. but in their struggle, they pull each other down. very rarely does one get out, because they all keep each other at the bottom.  but that is only the case if you either don’t see it or don’t want to see it. my eyes are open, and today i can do something about it.