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I'm not exactly sure what to write. Something carefully crafted, but I've got to practice my writing and sometimes that will not look completely crafted. This is going to be an exciting challenge and I am goinng to try and stick with it for a month. That's not so long. I am a very undisiplined person but the practice of writing has seem to tame me. Whatever I do I practice daily writing. Someting - even if it's just like a journal entry. Although, my journal entries are boring. I will try to liven up these entries to keep y'all entertained.
A sleep deprived week and a half brought me to a decision on June 10th, 2008: I decided to stop using crystal meth for the 20th time. It's been almost sixty days. I'm at times unsure what to do with myself. Each day at one 'o clock, I walk two blocks, and gather with a group of sober drunks who share their expierence about how they quit the fight. Walking in the room, my shoulders relax alittle and that loneliness that will not let me see past the nose on my face, lessens. I am home.
The tension between Hans Solo and Princess Leah in the Empire Strikes Back is angry lust. Do women and men really act that way towards each other? The first boyfriend that I lived with when I was seventeen displayed angry lust towards me. We began our relationship as enemies. He and I would usually fight in passing (we were neighbors for a while). Then one day, in a blackout, we past the point of childish anger and into the oblivion of unhealthy 'love'. Our tumultuous relationship lasted for almost two years. Looking back all my relationships have been sick. Oh well.
Today ia a much more difficult day for me to find something to write about. I'm down for a challange and besides I committed for at least a month. My dream is to write and if I'm finding it difficult to drum up 100 words I'm in trouble. Sometimes I find prompts helpful then other times I have ideas flowing non-stop. Sometimes an idea comes to a halt during my research and other times new topics spring forth from research. I'm just learning and it's going to be an empowering process. Am I up for the quest? Maybe.
When I was a little kid I could fix the Rubick's cube in under five minutes. I must of been in third grade. My parents were so proud. That was somehow a symbol of my potential. As the years flew by, due to drugs and alcohol, I dropped out at the age of sixteen. School got in the way of my using, and it had to go. Yet all these years later I can still (not under five minutes)fix the cube. I guess it was the one brain cell I hung onto. Potential means you aren't worth shit now.
I sit down, then I stand up. Pace around the kitchen awhile, maybe do some dishes. Go for a run. Read entries on 100words.com. Go to a meeting and call a sober friend. These are a few things I occupy my time with during these precarious days of sobriety. Must stay away from dope. Pray to God for mercy because I can taste it in the back of my throat. Drugs were killing me, but I crave them. The only way out is through abstinence. I've got to hold on. So, I sit down, then I stand up...
There is a reading I'm expected to be at tonight and I feel like I'm too early in my sobriety to take the risk. This event makes me want a drink in order to face the crowd. Anti-social is how I feel and behave since I got sober. Alcohol and drugs, at the beginning, were my social lubricant, but as my disease progressed, boyfriends and friends became scarce because of my blackouts. I became an isolated lonely drunk. Now, finally coming out of myself imposed prision, life is way too bright at times. My eyes still need time to adjust.
I've ran about eight times during the last two weeks and I'm seriously disappointed that I haven't lost ten pounds.
This isn't my first time trying to get sober. In February, of this year, I was a month shy of a year when I decided to take perscription diet pills which lead to meth. During my eleven months clean I gained thirty pounds and although I've had two relapses from February - June on crystal meth, I've not lost the weight.
I guess that I'm going to have to do it the old fashion way - diet, exercise, and patience. Damn it.
I've been trying to get rid of a computer virus all damn day. When I woke up I turned on my computer and there was an XP antivirus desktop icon and there was a pop up every two minutes. I tried to delete them and it directed me to my install/uninstall programs. I clicked on the Antivirus program to uninstall and it went through the motions of an uninstall but it did not actually uninstall. Finally I downloaded a search and destroy spybot program from the internet, installed it and about seven hours later it was gone. That easy :(
Sleep is my new escape from reality. Well, I guess it always has been it's just really rearing it's ugly head during my early sobriety. My son is in Texas visiting my parents and I've had much more opportunity to just sleep my days away. The thing is when I sleep my days away there is the price of guilt and shame to be paid. Waking up after sleeping a whole 24 hours away feels gross. Not to mention, all though I'm just laying there sleeping I'm usually in desprate need of a shower. My teeth are usually furry too.
Tomorrow I am going to do some part-time filing for a friend and although I've slept the last three days I'm still tired. How can my body still be tired? Am I depressed? Maybe. Do I not want to face reality or responsibility? Probably not. Doing some low key filing for a personal friend will help me slowly re-enter the world of the worthwhile. No stress about make-up or what I am going to wear because her office is in her garage. No expectations. She's a friend who knows I could use something constructive to fill my days right now.
Almost half the month of August has passed me by. I think to myself, 'You've already wasted a year on being fat and you only have a year to take off the weight and finally start enjoying some summers again.'
False belief #1: When I hit that 'magic' weight I'll be happy.
False belief #2: I have no buisness enjoying myself especially in the summer when only skinny people can enjoy the beautiful weather.
Instead of living up big bulky sweaters in the winter I'm depressed because I am and look too big and bulky. I'm rarely happy.
I've got to hold on. The rationalization is that I need to lose weight and crystal meth is calling to me so bad. I've got to think about all the positive things in my life and how when I am on drugs I lose all that is worthwhile and I feel miserable. I'm teetering on the edge of sobriety and non-sobriety and all I can think about is what drugs do for me not what drugs do to me. This thinking has me sweating and praying that I can choose a healthier road. Please God, help me.
I left Texas when I was twenty-three. On probation, for my second DWI. I couldn't pass a piss test each month to save my life. Damn cocaine. My friend had moved to Davis, CA and an ex-boyfriend was living in Hannford, CA with his older brother. What initially began as a two-week vacation has turned into an eleven year residence. My hopes were that if I changed my circumstances I could change my life. What I learned was that you can put me in the best of circumstances but I would always manifest the madness inside of me.
The feeling of desperation is uncomfortable. It drives a person to do unthinkable things. Alcoholism and addiction is believed to to be a disease. An allergy that isn't found in the normal average drinker. Once an alcoholic/addict physically ingests a substance it sets off a phenomenon of craving.
These allergic types can never safely use alcohol in any form at all; and once having lost their self-confidence , their reliance upon things human, their problems pile-up an them and become astonishingly difficult to solve.
Alcoholics Anonymous, pg.xxvii
We are equally positive that once he/she takes any alcohol whatever into his/her system, something happens, both in the bodily and mental sense, which makes it virtually impossible for him/her to stop.
- Alcoholics Anonymous
Although I know I am one of these allergic types and I've lost everything worthwhile in my life, I've still picked up that first drink/drug time after time after time after time.
Therefore, the main problem of the alcoholic centers in his mind, rather than in his body....There is the obsession that somehow, someday, they will beat the game.
- Alcoholics Anonymous
The first time I got drunk I was fifteen. We convinced a guy outside of Stop-and-Go to buy me and my friends some alcohol. My boyfriend had just broken up with me and I somehow knew that alcohol would comfort me. I'm not sure where I learned that because my parents didn't drink. I blacked out that night and police were involved and my parents were called. Serious trouble and a terrible hangover were not enough to warn me about the consequences of my drinking. My immature brain did not comprehend the cause and effect of alcohol.
What I've learned recently about myself and my writing is that you've got to operate from a platform of honesty. Otherwise, your writing is stiffled and dishonesty obstructs the flow of thought. One is too busy trying to tailor one's thoughts to protect that one lie. The one lie that may not have anything to do about what your writing about but you pour wasted energy into protecting 'the image'. The lie that you think you will go to your grave with, yet everything about your natural rhythm to the beat of the universe is interupted.
The challenge of 100 words is more difficult than I imagined. There are so many changes that are going on in my life right now but I am hesitant to write about these things. Usually I'm willing to be an open book but I'm so full of fear that I can't even jot down the 'what if's'....that are tangled in my head. Putting pen to paper can be an effective tool in really seeing what's what but even the actual numbers scare me. Sometimes the facts are too scary to bear so I live in a world of sloth.
"Never again is what you swore the time before." ---Depeche Mode, Policy of Truth
Man, how that statement rings true when it comes to my alcoholism/addiction. How many times have I sworn to my friends and family, 'never again.' To really mean it, but find myself wasted all over again. This cycle is getting old. Really, Really old. But how do you walk a new path? Only divine intervention can help me now and I'm scared because that requires faith and trust on my part. I really have nothig to lose I'm at the point of desperation. Help.
Today I did something I have never done before - I cut my own bangs. I usually never mess with my own hair, only letting professionals do their thing. Over the years I've also added a clause: I don't let friends work on it because if there is something I don't like it's difficult for me to state that when the haircut is done, but if i've paid a non emotionally invested professional - well that's a different story. I deserve to be happy for the money I spend. Anyways, I've been broke so desperate measures...I grabbed the shears and snip....
Surrender (v) give up, resign,abandon, buckle under, capitulate, cave in, cede, commit, concede, consign, cry uncle, deliver up, eat crow, eat humble pie, entrust, fall, fold, forego, give in, go along with, go down, go under, hand over, knuckle, knuckle under, leave, let go, pack it in, part with, play dead, put up white flag, quit, relinquish, renounce, roll over, submit, succumb, throw in the towel, toss it in, waive, yield, to give up the fight. A losing battle. To join the winning side. This is the first step in recovery. I've got to surrender my old ideas and beliefs.
i've got a lack of inhibition
i've got a loss of perspective
i've had a little bit to drink
and it's making me think
that i can jump ship and swim
that the ocean will hold me
that there's got to be more
than this boat i'm in
'cuz they can call me crazy if i fail
all the chance that i need
and they can call me brilliant
if i succeed
gravity is nothing to me, moving at the speed of sound
i'm just gonna get my feet wet
until i drown
this week i had the feeling that i just wanted to run'home'. where home is i don't know. i've been in california for 11 years but am originally from texas. where would i go? the house i grew up in is gone, my parents are divorced and can't afford a broken thirty-three year old daughter. i just wanted to run to a safe base - a home. maybe it means home - to me - before everything went terribly wrong. i can't seem to remember the last time i felt safe with myself. i've got alot of soul searching to do.
at 15, i was angry and couldn't articulate why. i felt oppression but didn't understand where it was coming from - so i blamed my mom. for everything. my parents were married, my mom stayed home and my dad worked. my mom was the parent because my dad was always working. even when he was at home. my mom would disipline us and my dad wouldn't stand behind her. he would devalue decisions she made and covertly suggest that she was delusional. my dad didn't have respect for women. patriarchy was the evil invisible enemy. i had no idea.
writing is difficult for me these past days. i've made some unhealthy chocies and have already created wreakage. i fucking hate that i can't stop. while i'm sober i have a profound sense of inadequacy. it invades my every minute and sometimes to keep from going crazy i have to drink and use. otherwise i might kill myself - no i'm too chicken to do that. i just ingest posion to self destruct. suicide on the installment plan. the thing is i want a life and the only way i can do that is stay sober.
i find that i have a difficult time letting people get to know me. this has mainly to do with the fact that i'm ashamed about who i am and how i conduct my life. the thing is a sick mind can't heal a sick mind. i've got to let others in because i need help.
my friends - i keep at arms distance. this wall is always up - without my awareness. it's automatic pilot now in my life and it's going to take divine intervention to help shed these layers of myself that don't serve me any longer.
what else is there left to say? it's all been said by me and the funny thing is i believe in all the things i talk about, but now it's about putting the things i've learned into action. some days doing the next indicated step is manageable and then there are the days where my thinking takes ahold and will not stop terrorizing me.
there is one self that wants to live a spiritual path and there's an impulsive destructive self that makes it difficult for me to remain vigilant. i am hitting my knees because only He can help.
in relationships there are things that are said which are almost impossible to take back. it's like, in that moment, a streak of true colors is revealed and it could damage the other party intensely . this happen to me this week. the person i was arguing with said some really ugly hurtful things about my family and the stab left me speechless. the thing is i can talk about my family all day long, but the minute someone else pipes in i become defensive and protective. i'll smile and play nice but i won't ever forget how i felt.
there have been two desprate times i was completely emptied of self and i felt the presence of a higher power. my condition was on an animalistic plane, struggling to survive, and in a moment my awareness sensed that i wasn't alone. almost instantly, i was relieved of my thinking and i was soothed through-out the trauma. these moments, although profound, in the day - to - day become forgotten. forcing my little plans and designs on all those who come in contact with me, i play god and wind up in a big mess. i need help.
august 31st and i'm still her to submit the month's final entry. i'm feeling a little proud of myself. this has been a tumultuous month but i found myself going back to my one hundred words a day commitment. some of my entries are what anne lammont calls shitty first drafts, but on those days i found that crafting a mere one hundred words wasn't as easy as i had percieved.
my favorite site feature: random entries. the snapshots are fasinating, familiar, inspiring, and surprising.
amid all the august turmoil i tried to be as honest as possible. i'll be back.
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