I had my first therapy appointment this morning for the first time in seven months. I tossed and turned all night just at the thought of it. What would they ask? What would I say? It’s not like I’m in dark about my mental health. I’m very well aware of how bad things have gotten. All it took though was telling someone just how bad it was for me to realize the only thing I’ve been doing the past seven months is digging my own grave. Maybe not intentionally but if I continue down the road I’m on, I fear I won’t last another seven months. I read an article on Facebook today about a 27 year old dietician, Tara Condell, who took her own life. She left a suicide note on her website, still it was days later when her fellow employees missed her at work that she was found. That is heart breaking for me. Her note was her cry for help that people heard far too late. It is the first paragraph of her letter that haunts me. Not unlike something I would write myself at this given moment.
“I have written this note several times in my head for over a decade, and this one finally feels right. No edits, no overthinking. I have accepted hope is nothing more than delayed disappointment, and I am just plain old-fashioned tired of feeling tired.”
She takes the words right out of my mouth. Was it fate for me to see this article? She goes on to talk about things that I don’t quite understand at the moment like how good it seems she has it. Because I can for sure tell you I do not have it good. Perhaps at one time I did. But I no longer do. She speaks of things she will miss. Would I miss more than just my cats? That’s something I don’t have the answer to. Through her death and in her letter, Tara very well may have helped saved my life. I WANT to have it good once again. I WANT to have things to miss. I feel as though if someone had read this letter in time this sweet girl would still be here. Everybody’s low is different, true, and depression is not biased against who has it all and who doesn’t but coming from an insider this letter sounded like a cry for help. The real tragedy in suicide isn’t those left behind, it’s the life, often times cut too short.
Every forty seconds someone commits suicide. Could Tara’s have been stopped? I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that I owe it to her, her friends and her family to make sure mine stops. At my therapy appointment this morning I admitted to another human being that I sleep, on average 18 hours a day. That I have stopped taking my meds. That I have given up and I come home and read this. Coincidence? I think not. I am not alone in this disease.
My goals are small for now. My therapist gave me two things to do. Personal hygiene and journaling. I have got to get in the habit of waking up and showering everyday no matter if I have anything to do or not. For my sake. For my sanity. And journaling. Well I have been needing to do that for some time. I have so much on my mind and very very few, if any body, to talk to about it all and thats why it’s so important that I get it down on paper and out of my head. I hadn’t realized just how much this one step could help out. Oh, and taking my meds. I’ve been on them for some time and even though I feel as though they don’t work I still owe it to myself to continue to try.
Depression literally effects everything. From hygiene to work performance to relationships. If I hear one more person tell me it’s just an excuse I’m going to scream. It’s MORE than just an excuse. It’s a disease. It’s wanting so badly to get out of bed and do something about your life but not having the capacity to do so. It’s crippling. It’s kept me in bed for days at a time. It KEEPS me in bed.
Depression is like the feared dementor coming to bring you your last kiss. Everything turns cold and dark. Living with severe depression is like living after receiving your dementors kiss. You’re the living dead. Your soul gone. Everything dark, cold, and gray. Even sunshiny days seem dull. The will to live is gone.
I know this depression. I live this depression everyday. It’s a battle to get up every morning. To do menial task such as take a shower, clean, get ready for an event is monumental to me. It’s exhausting. My job has suffered from my depression. I’d rather be asleep than doing anything. If I’m asleep I don’t have to face the world and the fact that I’m sad. I’m probably losing my job soon. One of them at least. My main source of income. What will happen after that I don’t know. I had hope before this but it seems like everyday that goes by my depression gets worse and worse and worse. What will become of me? Will I just waste away? Or will I somehow find the strength to pick myself up?
Depression effects how well you clean. My room is a mess. There’s trash strewn about. Clothes everywhere. It’s not that I don’t want a clean room or a clean home but I’ve become so overwhelmed and going back to bed is just easier. It’s gotten to the point where I physically can’t get up to do anything anymore. I’m so low that my energy is shot. I don’t sit around and watch tv or eat bon bons. I sleep because my body and my soul is tired.
Depression effects relationships. You become paranoid that no one likes you and that everyone is against you and you will find that some people are. You will find that some people don’t understand mental illness and would rather stay that way than lend a compassionate heart or ear your way. Family starts drifting farther apart. You miss things. You get left out of things. People stop inviting you to things because you never show anyways.
Depression effects hygiene. Just getting a shower seems like running a marathon. Forget small things like shaving or brushing your teeth. You gain weight like crazy even though you’re barely eating. It’s like you’re body is preparing to hibernate for the rest of your life. Physical appearance isn’t one of your top priorities anymore. Sleep is.
Now that I’m soon to only be working one to two days a week again I’m afraid now more than ever I’m going to lose myself to this disease. This illness that is a burden to have and a burden for anyone who loves me. They have to watch me fall into the abyss. I know on Saturday I’m going to hear it’s an excuse and that’s fine. Some people don’t understand mental illness and that’s their choice. It’s not an excuse just like a diabetic having to take insulin and watch what they eat isn’t an excuse neither is being in the grips and the horror of full blow depression. If you’ve never slept more than two days in a row, woken up to see how horrible your house and your life looks, to full on projectile vomiting; then you my friend do not know depression. I am almost 30 and have had this disease since I was 11. That’s how old I was at my first suicide attempt. My last one was at the age of 14. I have wanted to since then but have remained hopeful that something will give. This is the worst my depression has ever been. Will I ever see the light again? I hope so. Only time will tell.
Do I believe in love at first SIGHT? No way! Thats something out of books or movies, a fairy tale. Not something that happens in real life. What can happen in real life though is meeting someone for the first time and instantly having a connection. Having a sense of comfort around them that you don’t feel with everyone else. The ability to be open and honest and not shy and embarrassed. Having things in common that you don’t have with everyone else or that you haven’t had with anyone else prior. Fierce chemistry like someone had just doused both of you in baking soda and vinegar. The urge to want to get to know them on a deeper level. That can happen. And I know this because it happened to me.
I didn’t expect it nor was I planning on it. Here I am minding my own business, well I WAS on a dating site but the guy said he was only in town for one more night so I figured, no harm, no foul. I’ll show him around town on his last night and maybe have some decent company and at least I’ll get a meal out of it. I know, I know but hey it’s true. I got WAY more than I bargained for. For starters he has a smile that can warm an entire room. That’s what I noticed first. The second thing I noticed was he was genuine. He complemented my outfit and my necklace and I could tell he meant it. He was engaging. The next thing I noticed was how much we had in common. We had an amazing night. I got to show him Tennessee Williams house which was so cool because we are both writers. We played pool and listened to the juke box. It was perfect. The only thing that could have made it better was for it to have lasted longer. And for me to have known about open mic night since he’s a musician.
That’s one of my favorites.
While he’s extremely talented, and we had an amazing night together he still had to go back home. Where’s home you ask. FL. How’s that for irony. The place I just left. Although I reckon if I weren’t here we wouldn’t have met. So I’m glad I was here. He plans to visit in January before he starts classes and I suppose we shall just wait and see what becomes of things. I am glad to have the opportunity to still continue to work on myself though and not have to be all inthralled in someone else immediately. But y’all I hadn’t even met the man and he got me to clean out the passenger side of my car. Thats progress. I mean it was still dirty but not nearly in comparison to what it was. Even the slightest thought of being with him makes me want to do better and be better and if it doesn’t work out, oh well. I tried. And thats what counts. I wasn’t even really expecting to meet someone so this is totally out of the blue for me. But like the Monty Python boys say “Nobody expects a Spanish inquisition.” How I’ll handle the Spanish inquisition, well, I’ll keep you informed.
If anything sums up my dating life its this GIF. The dating scene here in Columbus MS is about as broad as my knowledge in theoretical mathematics. We ain’t getting no where. I feel like I’m going to be single forever and I may very well be. My mom even said she was signing me up for Catholic Singles.com. Surely thats a joke at my expense right?! I’m horrified at the thought that I’m getting to the age where my parents are wanting to set me up. On an online dating site. I almost asked for three months of eharmony for Christmas. I can bet I would have gotten it. I think it hurts my parents to see me this single than it hurts me. Honestly most days I’m too stressed out avoiding the bill collectors and wondering if I’m going to have enough to keep the lights on to be worried about dating. But again I’m a year away from thirty so it is on my mind. I am female. I’m on every dating site known to man kind and nothing around here brings any luck. I thought I got lucky the other day. Cute guy, we had been texting for a while, come to find out he’s got a girlfriend. Why on Gods green earth this man was on the most obscure dating site but still. Why. MY LUCK is why. He says he’s looking for friends and something about gender roles. I have no idea, I was lost at “I have a girl friend”. Rightly so.
So if you’re looking forward to my sex in the city esc writing style I had in Pensacola you can kiss that dream goodbye. I sure have. That will not exist here. The only thing that exists here is loneliness and cat memes. And sad sappy Match box 20 songs.
I apparently want to push myself around because I landed myself in the zone of no return when it comes to dating. I don’t want to be alone forever but for now I’m stuck with me. And thats okay. My age is not but I’m overall okay with being alone. I’m honestly so busy I don’t have time to think about it and I’m so concerned with keeping my head on my shoulders its in the furthest reach of my brain, yes I’m lonely and yes I miss cuddling and kissing and what not but most of all I miss having someone to tell how my day was. And just go over what happened. I don’t have that. I’ve got to find that in myself. Maybe one day I will have that again in someone else but for now I’ll have to settle for the best. ME.
Fitzgerald, one of Americas iconic writers didn’t become famous until after his death but that didn’t stop him from wanting to achieve his dreams and live a life he was proud of, and want it for his fellow peers. I have no idea what my future holds but what I do know is that I can’t give up now. My last post may have made it seem like I was ready to, and I’ll be honest I have days where I feel like I want to but something stops me. My will to live outweighs my will to give up. Or rather I’m just so tired sometimes that I can’t even do that. I’d rather wait it out and see what happens. As long as there is air in my lungs and blood flowing through my veins then I might as well try. I know my last post probably scared a lot of people but what you must know is that first of all I’m a writer, everything I feel is done with passion, I WAS feeling like ultimately giving up, yes. That comes with having borderline personality disorder. Suicidal thoughts are part of the depression I battle everyday. Its like a cannon going off amidst the artillery fire in an all out war. BUT A thought doesn’t necessarily mean an action. Giving up isn’t an option for me, but starting over is,.
Starting over is hard and it hurts like hell. Its stressful. Its taking two steps forward and three back and somehow still making progress. Its unpacking all the boxes you’ve left unpacked or just throwing them away and accepting they are gone. Its accepting you may be eating ramen until the next power bill is paid. Starting over may mean staring at something you’ve started and accepting its time to let it go. OR perhaps go at it from a different angle. Starting over is leaving the job you’re not appreciated at even though its all you have, but you’ve come to realize you value your self worth a little more. Starting over is putting on PJ’s again at night instead of just falling asleep in your clothes. Starting over is loving yourself and letting everything else come afterwards.
Have you ever felt like you weren’t really alive? That somehow you had died and were trapped in this body? In this life? And that MAYBE it was purgatory. Lately I have felt this way. I sleep most of my days away. I ignore the bill collectors. I have 79 missed calls. I never go anywhere. I barely eat. I exist, I’m not living. I got out today to write this but not JUST to write this. I had to send my resume to my sister in hopes of getting a full time job. Something I desperately need.
“Its a no smoking sign on your cigarette break.” I smoke cigarettes. I have since I was 18. Its a terrible habit I know and hopefully one day when I beat this damn disease I can quit. I’ve been told I smell like smoke, I’ve been told I smell like cigarettes. I’ve even been told I need to spray something so I don’t smell for a job before, thats nothing out of the ordinary. But y’all I was told that I smelled like WEED. I haven’t smoked pot since I left FL and it was medicinally legal for me. And even then it was in concentrates and vapes. I haven’t heard that I smelled like WEED since, well, since my parents were accusing me of smoking it back in 09. I take things personally, words hurt. Maybe they aren’t meant to always but out of all the ways you could phrase something you say weed. First of all weed has a very very very distinct smell and cigarettes and weed don’t smell alike. At all. Thats why it felt like a blow to me. Because I know I may smell like cigarettes but I know theres no way in hell I smell like WEED. If my medicine allowed me to I would have cried my eyes out over this. I don’t dress like a “pot head”, I don’t talk like a “pot head”, I just don’t get it. I have been awake today longer than I have in at least three days. Sleep is all I can do. The meds aren’t working. I can’t afford therapy. I’ve been sick. Probably from stress or being upset.
I’m trying to start over guys. This is my story of picking up the broken pieces of a broken heart. IF your heart isn’t in it nothing will be and I’m finding thats why nothing seems to be working for me. My heart is so broken it can’t be in anything. I’m trying to heal. I’m trying desperately to stay here for myself and not just for the people that love me. Because let me tell you a life of merely existing and never living is a hell on earth. A minute feels like a hour. I can’t tell you the last time I laughed. I honestly can’t remember. Just admitting that and typing that out brings tears to my eyes. Everyone should know laughter and I haven’t known it for so long. If its the last thing I do its beat this disease, one way or another. I plan to start over. Today is a new day.
I’m going to start this story by going backwards. Apparently I’m finding one thing I’m good at is denial. Its not just a river in Egypt but a state of mind I frequent. This was the last photo of us taken together. This is the last time I remember being “OKAY”. The last time you’ll see me in love. The last time you’ll see me loved by a man. I realized something tonight I was wrong about everything. I may have gotten bits and pieces right but the big parts I was wrong about. You know that haunting phrase “giving up got you to where you are now” that DPL said. Well its true. Maybe my life in Pensacola wasn’t so bad. And maybe I could have supported myself had I found a roommate and maybe things weren’t as terrible as they seemed. But tonight I think I know what he meant by that phrase. I gave up on him. I gave up on us. Two years ago this Thanksgiving I made the biggest mistake of my life. I broke up with a man that stood by me while I went into a mental hospital. I broke up with a man that put up with so much shit. Was he perfect? NO. Did he say and do things that were hurtful, yes. But nobody is perfect and we can only take so much. I sabotaged myself. I let a good thing go. He loved me. I think and I can’t get him back. I can’t take back what I did. He’ll never forgive me and for all I know he’s met a good girl by now. I wish things were easy. I wish I had realized sooner what I had done. I wish I hadn’t given up. I always do though. Thats what I’m good at. Thats the only thing I’m good at. Is giving up. I could win awards in giving up. Here is my song to DPL. My last love, and the biggest regret of my life.
I basically had no choice but to leave Pensacola. I had run out of money and resources. Even though things were good and I had insurance and a good job I couldn’t make it living alone. The cost of living was just too high. I was facing being homeless. I was given an opportunity here in Columbus MS. Shortly after moving here I was taken off my valium and told I was addict because I was on it in the first place. I wasn’t even taken off of it properly. The withdraws were awful. I quickly frequented 12 step meetings around town to help my mood and to help me socially. I wanted so badly for there to be an easy 12 step solution to my problem. The thing is, there isn’t. I suffer from depression and borderline personality disorder. Its not as easy as an allergy and an obsession, something I never understood in meetings. I can have one beer and be done. I don’t have to keep going. I do know people that do and I see it every week. It took me three months to admit to myself and to others that I wasn’t an alcoholic or an addict. Why did it take that long? Well I enjoyed being a part of something and honestly I was hoping and praying all it took was 12 steps to fix me. Its going to take A LOT more than that to fix me, if its even possible. Which at this stage in the game I’m not even sure. I sabotage everything. BUT If you read up on borderline personality disorder thats what they are best at. I begged DPL to read up on it. I had him read every book possible. I guess he just didn’t take it seriously. I just recently lost my job. I knew my hours were going to lessen but I just recently found out that I won’t be working at all. And then the anniversary of the biggest mistake of my life. I can’t deal. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to do the ultimate version of giving up. I want to no longer exist. I have first handedly ruined my life. I have given up on love. Love has given up on me. My story is over. There is no happy ending.
“…If you have decided you want what we have and are willing to go to any length to get it – then you are ready to take certain steps. At some of these we balked. We thought we could find an easier softer way. But we could not” – The Big Book.
I think taking steps is easy. For ME its standing still thats hard. Its waiting thats hard. There is so much I can’t do because I haven’t been sober long enough, or I don’t have enough experience. Its heart wrenching that I didn’t decide to take this life changing journey for myself sooner. Something that has been so healthy for me. Something that has changed, and most definitely SAVED my life. If it weren’t for this program of 12 steps I would most certainly have taken my own life. I don’t fear the day that I want another drink, or another valium, I fear the day that I want to take my own life. That day scares me. I deal with suicidal thoughts almost every other day because of my borderline personality disorder, being sober now just means that I can FEEL it. I can feel the desperation. I can feel the heart ache and pain. To the point of my chest literally hurting. I get physically ill now, more so then when I used to. At least once every two weeks I’m throwing up because I’m so stressed out. I know it won’t always be this way and I know I have got to give it to God but some days I want to burry my head in a pillow and cry and never leave my room. I feel like I should just hide myself away because all I do is mess things up. I know this isn’t true and this is my disease talking but it doesn’t make the FEELING any easier. Standing still means FEELING. It means being present in the moment. It means not looking into the past or glaring into the future but simply observing where you are now. I’ve never really been good at that but ironically its the best thing for my BPD.
Once we have realized the key to being present and standing still the rest of the steps come easy. The rest of life comes easy. For you are not worried about what has been or will be. You are not dwelling on anything. Simply observing what is happening before your very eyes. I have no doubt that if I work the program like the Big Book tells me too and that if I stay in the Here and Now and stay focused on my Higher Power that I will be able to stay sober as long as I shall live. Now whether or not I’ll be able to do that I cannot foresee. I hope and pray I am. For being sober has saved the very fabric of my being. And changed every faucet of who I am. In a GOOD way. I don’t think ANY old friend would meet me on the street and say that I looked bad or I looked rough. I look and feel amazing 90% of the time. I am filled with a joy and happiness I can’t explain. A best friend of mine asked me the other day if I had been using, I quickly exclaimed “NO!!! It’s GOD!!!”. I never in my life thought I’d be so excited and happy and thrilled to live such a simple life. Such a quiet life. Such a STILL life. Theres that word again. That word that ever reminds us to be present. Here and now. Once you are still the whole world seems to just slow down a little bit and you can breathe. I have been going for so long that I have forgotten how to breathe. I am like a baby being born again. I have recently started to learn the practice of Thai Chi and the movements are so precise and slow that its hard for me. I haven’t been STILL long enough. My teacher always has to tell me to stop FALLING into the movements. I know I will and I know that in due time I will learn that stillness. Being Patient is also part of the road to stillness and when I am able to be patient with myself I can start to be STILL.
What is unrelenting life crisis you may be asking yourself? Well it is what it sounds like and it effects those with borderline personality disorder. If you’ve ever watched “Girl Interrupted” you may be familiar with the disease I’m referring to. Well I’ve been plagued with this since I was 14. Unrelenting life crisis is as described by Dr. Shari Manning:
One “bad” situation (many times not of their own making)
Inability to tolerate the distress of the situation
Leads them to make ineffective decisions OR
Engage in impulsive behavior to relieve stress
Makes situation worse
I am working really really hard to use coping skills to manage the crisis that are coming up in my life but getting sober in and of its own is hard enough much less doing it with borderline. My hope is to do this, do it well and thoroughly so that I may be able to help other addicts and alcoholics that may have “grave mental illness” because you CAN recover!!! IT IS POSSIBLE!!! If I’m going to be a statistic I’m going to be the GOOD kind. I have many problems beset before me. First I stupidly backed into a wall and busted my OTHER tail light so don’t have any working tail light, My phone is about to get cut off and I have no idea what to do about that, I’m feeling every single emotion in one day, I’m longing to have a guy friend in my life and can’t find a sober one to save my life, being a tom boy theres only things a guy can relate to and I feel as though I’m being PUNISHED for something, my health insurance has run out and clearly I am sick, I have no clue how I’m going to pay for medications, I don’t qualify for Medicaid because I don’t have kids, I sat in fiber glass last night, my real family barely talks to me even though I couldn’t do this without them and I would love to share this with them, lonely is an understatement. I could go on but I won’t bore you. I think you get the point. What is my plan for recovery? WELL I’m glad you asked. First I’m going through the 12 STEP Program! Such an amazing way of life and if we all lived this way the world would be such a beautiful place. We are not perfect and no one person can adhere to the steps perfectly but I do my best and I will try my best everyday. Second I plan on becoming my own best friend again. I once was. Six years ago, before the great darkness. Before I lost Mariah and experienced the first great loss in my life. Before I started to get emotionally abused. I was truly in love with myself. I stayed up late reading “Brave New World” and the “Dune” series. I ran everyday. I did yoga. I meditated multiple times a day. I didn’t smoke NEARLY as much. I listened to music more, and probably most importantly I JOURNALED. Why I don’t do that anymore I have no idea. I will never be the SAME Katie again but what I want to do is read the Tao, I want to learn Thai Chi, I want to go camping ALONE, I want to run again and feel the freedom and release of my feet hitting pavement, I want to get back to my mat and do yoga again and eventually teach in rehabs, I want to quit smoking, I want to get a job and not just any job but something I’m passionate about and something that HELPS my community and those around me. I want to spread joy and happiness. I want to serve others. I want to travel the world and hike trails all over! And most importantly, I want and NEED to write and JOURNAL. I can’t tell you how healthy that is. I want to start making better healthier discussions. DPL stopping using me back in February and thats still relatively fresh, I’m not really looking to hop right into a relationship, I’m more focused on my well being and my self care. I had something happen to me and well it threw me for quite a loop. I don’t know how to put it words. I miss my friend from the hospital. My friend that got me to where I am now. The friend that got me on the road I’m on today. The friend that got me to where I can now look in the mirror and say “I love you, you are worth it.” He, he is the only guy friend I have and I’m not allowed to talk to him because I’m a girl. I remember staying up from the time we got meds at 8 until 11:30 or later just me and him talking. I softly cried to him. I will never forget just looking at him and telling him how desperate I felt. The desperation of a drowning man. I told him how I felt like no one understood me, and that I thought I was destined to be alone the rest of my life and that no one would ever love me the way I appreciated myself. You see, I KNOW my worth, I don’t look to others for validation, I know my worth. No one else does. But HE DID. He told me how he found love and told me that God had a plan and to just listen to my heart. He told me his story. I knew then I needed to get sober. He saved my life. I owe him my life.
Growing is hard no matter if its in your bones or in your soul! Its going to be uncomfortable but oh so worth it! I am going to be such a stronger me and be able to handle all these unrelenting life crisis soooo much better and I’m going to be able to help people with my story. I’m going to have tough skin from being lonely. Sobriety isn’t always easy but it is ALWAYS worth it.
The tightness in my chest seems to get worst as the day drags on. I wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweats. My bed soaking wet. Its absolutely disgusting. I’ll randomly start shaking like a leaf and then I’ll suddenly have to excuse myself to quietly vomit. I try and be discrete. I try to go unnoticed. I try not to make a big deal everyone needs to know what this little blue pill called valium can do to you. After years of use. And prescription use might I add, will do to you. And its not just physical either. Its my mind too. I made coffee the other day without the coffee or the coffee pot under it, I’ve lost my keys in my house twice….and I’m SOBER. This isn’t supposed to happen or so I thought. I thought my mind would just go back to the way it used to be and I would magically be able to balance equations again and write a novel tomorrow. NOPE. Thats not how sobriety works. First you must feel all the pain you have numbed for so long and that must be felt in order for you to feel joy again. All the joy you have missed out on. Not only was I numbing the pain but I was also numbing all the joy in my life. The joy I could have shared with people like Professor Lupin. My favorite dark arts teacher EVER. No one will ever ever compare to him. Those will be some large shoes to fill.
Right now I’m sitting at a bar using WiFi to write this. Its SATURDAY night and PACKED. I got approached about this blog actually and its super exciting. Its funny how you can make connections and actually remember things when you’re sober. You don’t forget PEOPLE. You may forget where you sat your freakin keys but you don’t forget a face you once saw in a bar 6 years ago and then properly introduce yourself to them. Its a beautiful thing. A very beautiful thing. I often wonder how it looks to be sober and at a bar. What do people think. I’m feeling better writing though. I’m feeling better getting out of my head and putting it on a nice shiny computer screen. Me and a buddy at the bar. A non sober buddy both have our shoes off and are grounding. We are no shoe buddies. Its super cool. I have drunk friends. Actually its not funny, I wish I could save them all. I wish I could shout from this table “NO, do you not realize what you are doing?! Do you really NEED that shot? Do you REALLY want to be THAT drunk girl?! Do you REALLY want to be that ass hole? Do you want to wake up in a strangers bed smelling of alcohol and bad decisions? Do you want to risk that DUI? Do you want to vomit all over yourself before you even get home? Do you want to hit a mail box and mess your car up. Do you want to risk your LIFE. Over getting shitfaced?!” I have been all of these. These are all grown ass adults. With jobs and duties and responsibilities who either find a way to manage life or they don’t. Some do and some don’t. Its the sad reality of it and I can’t save them even if I wanted to. I just can’t. Nor is my place to do so. All I can do is pray. Pray pray pray pray pray and pray. I want my friends to succeed but not all of them will. I want all of these people here to succeed but not all of them will. NOT all of them have the capacity to. And hell I may not either, sober. Who knows. I just undercut a guy who hurt me, and for what reason. To make myself feel better. The disease is still very much a part of who I am and I have to ask for forgiveness and resolution all the time. I have to take personal inventory every day and its not fun guys. At all. Sometimes I look at myself and am like why the hell did you do that. What greater purpose did it serve. Like a wise drunk person just said I don’t get to wake up and remember it and feel guilty about it, I feel guilty about it now. I said something I shouldn’t have said and hurt a guys feelings. Was I being honest in what I said. Yes. Yes I was but it wasn’t nice. At all. I have to ask myself all the time if the the words that came out of my mouth were nice. If not you need to ask them and God for forgiveness. You need to do better. Add the stress of that on top of withdraws and I’m a mess. I can’t be perfect. I never will be. And right now I think I expect too much of myself. Let me tell you what I’m currently withdrawing from. So four years ago I tried every non narcotic medication for anxiety out there. Nothing touched my anxiety. I said “I give up, give me benzos.” (side note just talking about the “blue” pills makes me nauseas and want to vomit. Its awful) I got prescribe 10mg 3x a day of valium and Xanax 5mg PRN. For THREE years. I went inpatient to La Amistad in Orlando FL for 3 weeks and they took my dose down and so when I got out I went down to 20mg twice a day and no Xanax. That, that was my first taste of withdraws. It was awful. And I still had the medication. That little blue pill that I have grown to loathe so very much. The pill that makes me want to vomit. Thank makes me shake like a 90 year old woman. That randomly makes me spew insults to others. I shouldn’t be allowed in public sometimes. I really hate this but its my penitence for the crime of giving up on myself and the coping skills I should have been using the whole time. I’m about to sing some Karaoke with my wise friend and go home soberly and NOT wake up with a hangover and go to church in the morning. Stay sober friends. Don’t be THAT girl, or THAT guy. Don’t be me.
For the first time in my life I understand the word sober. These past fourteen days have taught me more than the last twenty eight years. Believe it or not. I am probably the friendliest person you could ever meet and always will be. That will never change but I have way tougher skin now and I know how to put up appropriate boundaries. And for the first time in probably a year I’m looking in the mirror and any reflective surface I can and smiling at MYSELF instead of just others. I’m appreciating my own beauty that I have just been offering the world instead of myself too. It took someone rejecting a FRIENDSHIP with me to even look inside and see that for myself. It hurt and it hurt badly, especially sober but because of it I am now able to look at myself in the mirror and see a glimpse of what everyone around me sees. I don’t claim to understand everything but what I do know is if you don’t accept me thats your problem not mine. And if you can’t be my friend well, poo on you.
I may not be guilty of everything on that list but on thing is for sure I can’t have just one drink and I know that. I had my first therapy appointment for the first time in months and the first one in Columbus MS on Wednesday. During my inpatient stay I apparently had to fill out a questionnaire that I don’t remember but on that questionnaire it asked me if I thought I had problems with drugs and alcohol. Apparently I said no to one or more of those. Well obviously in my therapy appointment I told her yea I have a problem and thats why I’m in IOP and why I go to meetings. So I can recover. So I can begin to heal. She smiled and said “your answers changed.”. I immediately started to cry. I don’t know why. I guess because for the first time I was starting to be honest with myself and others. Honesty is a beautiful thing. If you can’t be honest with yourself who can you be honest with.
This little lady (me) was born at 11:59 on August 13th 1989 and there is nothing wrong with me aside from the fact that I look like a smurf and I almost didn’t survive my own birth. I was 3 weeks early. I had a double hernia when I was born and was in the NICU for 3 weeks. If you think there is something fundamentally wrong with alcoholics and addicts well you are right and wrong. We are not BAD people, we are sick. It is a sickness. An allergy that creates a craving that cannot be quenched. We cannot have just one of ANYTHING. Moderation is foreign territory for us. Do not judge and do not be dismayed by our recovery and our success. We know what pain feels like.
I have lost my best friend, my high school sweet heart, I was made fun of in school, I was in a verbally abusive relationship, and I felt all that pain while on drugs and alcohol. I have now felt all of that SOBER. S O B E R!! I had to relive all of that pain. And I thought it was bad then. No. No. I screamed so much that 3 days later I still can’t talk. I fell down in the shower just screaming out in pain. Later that night I went to the ER thinking I was dying of a broken heart. I thought for sure I was having a heart attack. I knew I was dying of a heart attack. I just knew it. The only good thing about that visit was it tested my sobriety and I got to see some good looking nurses lololol I will not stand by and let this disease ruin me and I also will not stand by and be quiet about it. I am a writer. My job and my duty is to help people and thats exactly what I’m going to do. “NOBODY puts baby in a corner!”
The world needs to hear our story and they will hear mine!