Wow, I finally called my sponsor!

OK, so I finally called my sponsor.  But got voicemail, suck.  I actually wanted to talk to her, which is amazing.  Usually I pray for voicemail so I don't have to talk to people.

I talked to S a bunch today after the 3:30 meeting and she was helpful.  It was enough that she was spending time with me.  Some of the things she said I didn't understand or agree with, but again, her concern was enough.  She told me that I have to take action, and one of the actions I could take was calling my sponsor.  (So I did).  The other action she suggested was dealing with not being able to be in program for 2 more weeks and go back like a lady.  Um, the lady thing is not me, but I understand what she meant.  She meant go back as a centered adult.  Which is what I want to be: a centered, calm, dignified, bad ass adult.

It still hurts every day how I was treated by Lara and program.  It hurts, like physically hurts my heart.  I get a burning, aching in my chest and my stomach clenches up.  My heart rate races and I feel like screaming or crying.  I hate it.  I don't understand why they would want to do that to me.  But they did.  And for right now, I am sick of talking about it!

Because of S I stayed for the 5:30 meeting, and it was good and I shared.  I didn't mean to be, but I was funny and cracking everyone up.  It made me want to do stand up, like my hero Maria Bamford.  But stand-up is a lot of work and I'm tired right now.   Maybe I'll just be funny in my songs.  Or at least witty.

I called C today, which I had promised myself I would do before Weds, so yay for me!  He seems to be doing OK, and it was nice to talk to him.  I am worried about his reaction when his best friend dies (he has brain cancer).  I hope C can pull through.  Losing his mother and his best friend in a year is going to be very, very tough.

I talked to Carol tonight about our relationship (while at Chipotle, of course).  We do love the Chipotle.  Anyway, I brought up that I feel our relationship was not going in a direction I liked.  She depends on me for things, and I give her way too much advice and try to tell her what to do all the time.  Not good.  It's like I'm the one on high and she's down below me somewhere and that is NOT how I want to have a friendship.  So I told her I had to stop giving her advice, and that we had to stop talking about program together.  I fucked it up within 10 minutes and started giving her advice, but she caught me.  Which is awesome.  I don't want to be the one "in charge".  I want an egalitarian relationship where there are two adults both giving and taking.  I need to have radical acceptance of her and where she is right now, not how I wish her to be.  I hope we can pull this off, because if not, then I cannot hang out with her anymore.  I do not want to be the person I am now when I hang out with her.  So I have to be strong and be better.  NO ADVICE!  NO CARETAKING!

I'm going off to bed now, first to read a bit.  I just got the new Stephen King novel.  It makes me feel like a kid (in a good way) to be reading Stephen King again.  He's like a comfy blanket that feels and smells just right.  Love him. When he's good, which is not always, but he's good often enough.

Beauty and Radical Acceptance (and some pain)

So it's 11:16 pm and I've made it through another day.  I am truly impressed with myself.  I didn't think I was going to make it.  I thought I maybe should go to the hospital around 11 am, but was too depressed to get out of bed.  So I just slept through the truly horrible feelings, and was able to get up to go to my 3:30 meeting.  Wow.

If I had told myself this early this morning, I would have told myself to go fuck myself.  I hated talking to Dr S today.  I wanted to love it, I was bursting at the seams when I saw she called and I couldn't wait to call her back.  But she talked to me like a robot, giving me no warmth, nothing.  I hate her for that.  Why is it so hard for anyone at program to be kind to me?  She told Carol later that she had a positive conversation with me.  HAH.  I almost cut over that convo, Dr S, so not so positive.  I just wanted to know that she was still there for me, still rooting for me, was still on my side.  She gave me pablum.  She gave me "I hear you have negative thoughts right now"  She gave me "I believe you want to come back and work".  Ummm, DUH.  Thank you, but I already knew all that.  I wanted to know you still cared about me.  And you wouldn't be warm or kind or anything.  I could have gotten more warmth from a fortune cookie fortune.  And at least then I would have at least gotten to eat a cookie.

I went over to look at Gus's halfway house today.  Carol loved it, but I felt it was very small, very congested, and I'm not sure how I would fit there.  With 6 women in it, it would be close to impossible for me I think.  But it seems like the healthy thing to do.  AAAAAARGH.   This personal space thing is not bullshit.  Why can't I find a place that understands that?  If I could have a room, even a tiny one, to myself, then I think I would be OK.  Sharing with Carol might be as close as I get to that.

I'm getting tired, thank god.  I'm going to a zen meditation conference with S tomorrow, and I'm a little scared about it, but I'm also a little excited.  I am going to walk tomorrow morning.  And maybe get my boxes ready to send back to Amazon.  They have taken over my dining room table :)

I walked down to the water a few minutes ago, and it was beautiful.  The air is cool, almost cold, the moon is full and there are whisps of clouds.  Orion was bright.  The water was much warmer than the cold sand and it felt like coming home.  I love it here.  I love the ocean at night.  I love the trees at night.  The air at night.  I love it all.

I talked about radical acceptance in the AA group today, and N really liked it.  She thought it came from the Big Book, and I was amused.  It's from DBT.  But AA's "higher power" and "faith in something greater than yourself"  feels like DBT's radical acceptance to me.  This insane optimism that they espouse- this idea that you are exactly where you need to be and that the answers will come to you and that the universe is looking out for you- has seemed like bullshit to me for so long.  But as I think about it, I don't need to believe in god, or have faith.  I just need to know that having this optimism works.  It works if I think I am going to come out OK no matter what.  I don't have to believe there is some divine hand at work, which is good, because i don't and never will.  But I can understand that by scientific empirical methods it has been proven that being radically accepting and optimistic makes you feel better.  And that is enough truth for me.  Plus it just feels right.  It feels like the best way to be a human being.  And it feels like coming home.

Personal Space.

I am not sure if my personal space is getting larger, or if I am just more in touch with my boundaries, but I am one raw nerve lately.  Anyone I don't know can't get near me without my hackles going up and my claws coming out.  I need a good 10 feet at all times.  If someone walks by me too closely I bristle.

I had to leave yoga yesterday because an old, gross, wheezy white man with gray hair put his mat TOO FUCKING CLOSE TO ME.  A class full of only women and this guy, and he puts his fucking mat next to mine about 2 feet too closely (even for normal spacing).  I became infuriated and anxiety ridden and could not concentrate.  I could feel his miasma crawling all over me as I was trying to breathe and do the poses.  It was more than I could bear so I left.  I knew I wasn't in control enough to be polite and ask him to move.  I was furious and wanted to strike out.  So I very quietly rolled up my mat, got my things and left in the middle of the class.  Ready to kill.

I got into the car and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed out my rage and frustration.  It sort of helped.  But I was still super-touchy and irritable for most of the night.  I am again right now just thinking about it.  My feelings, although not normal are:  HOW DARE HE GET SO CLOSE TO ME.  BACK UP RIGHT NOW, MOTHERFUCKER OR I WILL CLAW YOUR EYES OUT.  BACK THE FUCK UP, YOU ASSHOLE, RIGHT NOW, AND DON'T EVEN BREATHE IN MY DIRECTION.  FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU.  DON'T EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN.  YOU ARE DISGUSTING AND I HATE YOU FOR COMING NEAR ME.  YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO BE NEAR ME, YOU ARE DELIBERATELY VIOLATING ME AND I WILL KILL YOU.

OK, I actually feel better now.  Obviously this is not about the poor guy in my yoga class.  And this is why I need to be at program, but they won't let me back.  FUCK THEM TOO.

OK, time to chill out and go back to the zen place.  Whoooo.

Another day and I am smiling. And crying. And good.

I went to my 3:30 meeting today.   I love that meeting.  Vaughn called me last night and left me a message saying that he had tracked down my number because he was worried about me.  It was wonderful to be so cared for.  Karen also called.  I am drowning in concern.  Which is probably well-founded concern. As I was a fucking mess on Tuesday when I was there last.  I started crying in the freaking meeting.  Said that I had been thinking about hurting myself.  All because fucking jerk off, daughters of bitches program won't let me back, and were rude, shaming and insulting about it.  It makes me so hurt and angry to think about it, and I don't mind being angry, but I HATE being hurt.  I am invulnerable, tough, and I don't get hurt by the likes of the losers at program.  I don't want to be weak.  I HATE being weak.  I hate asking for something and being told no.  I hate being rejected when I shouldn't even care anyway.  They have all the power and wield it it seems without giving a shit about whom they hurt.  THEY SUCK.  Lara sucks, Malin sucks, the other one sucks, they all fucking suck.

So what else is new...  I'm still walking pretty much every day.  I walked 1.5 hours today.  I love walking in the sunshine and stretching in the sunshine and sweating in the sunshine.  I love the trees, and the sound of the ocean and all the people walking along the boardwalk.  I love humanity, although individual humans bother me most of the time.

I can't seem to get a handle on my time during the day.  It just slips away and I haven't done anything I want to do.  I haven't called yet about Medicare D, I haven't done my laundry, I haven't cleaned up my papers.  And I definitely haven't been writing.  I want to write.  Fiction.  I want to write fiction, but I don't seem to do it.  I have to set aside the time and just do it.  First is to set aside the time.  I think the best time would be in the morning, before my walk?  I think so, I'd like to try it.  I think I am having no time because I am getting up so late.  If I got up early in the morning, I believe I would get more done.  Because I always sort of think of the evening/night time as time to relax.  So I wake up at noon, walk, go to the 3:30 meeting, call Carol and hang out all night, never getting any of my chores done.

Well tomorrow I'll be getting up early because I am going to see Gus about the half-way house.  I'm going to check it out and see if it's something I want to live in.  I really hope that the chairs I saw through the window are not how he's furnishing it.  Because I want a real living room with couches, etc.  Not a cold room full of doctor's office waiting room chairs.  It's a deal breaker.  We need to make a home.  Where we feel safe and comfortable.

I started writing a fairy tale about my childhood and I really like it.  I just have to get back to it.  Or maybe I shouldn't until I'm back in therapy.  What do I want to write about?  Caz told me last night that Asimov said that once you have a situation you like, think of the person who would most be effected by that situation and make the story about them.  Good advice.  Stephen King said to set aside time every day and just write.  He also said to read as much as you possibly can, and I already do that.  So now I just have to set aside time.  I am going to set aside an hour.  Just an hour at first.  I've never done this before and I have to be kind and easy with myself.  Usually I just jump in and burn myself out.  So if an hour turns out to be too much, I'll do a half hour.  Because the point is to do it daily, not kill myself.

Have I mentioned how fucked up I am about program rejecting me?  It comes in waves (of pain and nausea)  I almost wound up in the hospital about it, but instead I asked Carol to spend the night with me.  It worked.  But I still hate them right now.  How dare they be so careless with my feelings! FUCK THEM.  FUCK THEM.  FUCK THEM.  FUCK THEM.  FUCK THEM.  FUCK THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OK, I'm going to go to bed thinking about something positive, because I won't be able to sleep otherwise.  I am going to think about how excited I am to walk tomorrow.  And to write for an hour.  I am really excited about that.  I am going to think about how I have found a solution in AA, that I have found people who care, and if I reach out, I can have support and friendship.  I really like Vaughn.  And Karen.  And Ray when she's in town.  I am going to think about how I am unstoppable, and incredibly talented and fun.  And that I am better than all the negative shit around me.  I am clean and pure and light, and I rise above the dark, the evil.  I have done it, I am better than it, I have bested the demon at it's own game.   We are wonderful, pure, beautiful and perfect the way we are!

Oh I forgot. I LOVE MARIA BAMFORD

Maria Bamford is my new favorite person.  "long sleeves, am i right, ladies?"  HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA.

This whole bit is awesome, but gets great @ 1:38

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeCSKygKOQE&feature=related

Just Be. And a short description of a radical life changing event.

OK so I'm back again, writing.  I found my old LiveJournal from when I lived in Otown, and was so happy I had a window into my life back then.  So, I want to have a window into this time of my life too.  Thus the writing.

I am not sure when (or ever) I'll be done with going to group.  I have not been there for about 6 weeks ? I think, but I'm probably going to start back up this week.  I'm meeting with Lara about it manana 9:30 AM.  It was really nice to hear from her on Friday.  She called me to set up the meeting, and I told her how I felt- pissed off (when am I not?) and feeling extremely judged.  She told me I wasn't being judged, and that other people have had to write proposals to come back to group.  It made me feel better.  Also, she said she was invested in me :)

She's going to be gone from group for the next coupla weeks, so if I go back I will have my most recent (and recently loved) therapist in group as she will be taking over while Lara's on vaca.  Hmm, what to call this therapist?  How about:  Sharon.  OK.  So anyway I've been with Sharon since May and love her.  She is a great therapist, plus I got some raging transference going with her.  But THIS time I have a therapist who knows how to handle it.  She has talked with me hours about it, and the transference is going away.  I really respect and like her still though.  And if she weren't my therapist, and in a relationship, I would probably still want to date her.  Although she is a bit too much of a rule follower for my taste.

So I am lying around the house, avoiding leaving.  I know that if I continue to do this it will lead to depression, so I am going to go for my walk as soon as I'm done with this. 

Oh yes, for the past two weeks I have been trying to change my lifestyle around so that I will want to live.  I have been walking almost daily and doing yoga 3 times a week.  But I got tired the past few days and have not gone to yoga.  But that's OK.  I will go back.  Courage is getting up in the morning and saying "I'll try again."  That's a bastardization of a quote I love.  

Two weeks ago I overdosed on DXM and a bunch of things happened at once.  I incorporated myself if that's possible.  I convulsed for hours because of the memories I was having and probably from the DXM too.  But I've convulsed before completely sober, so I know it was because of the memories.  I wrote them all down as well as recorded them on my phone.  I then had a psychotic break and it was not fun.  I drove my car high.  I got my passport and drove to the airport and was going to fly to Colombia.  It is a loooooooooong story, but my brain just sort of short-circuited and it was not good.

But in all it was a wonderful experience.  Some might say a spiritual experience.  I learned that I loved myself.  That I can live.  That some truly awful stuff happened to me.  And that it hurt me, but I'm getting better.  It was wonderful.

And so this past two weeks has been living up to the health and love I felt that night.  So I'm taking care of myself- eating more healthily, stopped eating meat (because I find it morally repugnant but never respected my own thoughts enough to do anything about it, but now I do respect myself), started walking for 2 hours daily and started the yoga.  Plus going to meetings 5 times a week.  The yoga is very hard by the way.  I think I am intimidated and discouraged by how hard it is and how beginner I am.  Just writing this down makes me feel better about it though.  I am on my path, and right now I'm a beginner and that's why it's hard.  The teacher even said I was doing well. So there, other teacher who kept telling me I had to push myself!  As if I have EVER been easy on myself.  The problem for me is not going to be pushing myself, it is to stay kind to myself.  So it is OK I've taken a break for the past few days, and it is OK if I go back!

Speaking of taking care of myself, it's time to go for the walk.  I'm excited!  I'm excited to see Lara tomorrow, I've missed her.  I want to get better.  I have no idea what that looks like.  I have no idea what my healthy life will be.  I don't know what I want to do for a living.  Nothing.  But that's good, and I won't let anyone, be it my mother or the head of IOP guilt me into feeling otherwise.  It is OK if I'm not on the fast track to success.  I am allowed to just be.

There is something wrong with me

Yes, I think there is something really wrong with me.  I watch this extreme porn that is degrading and humiliating to women.  It's the only kind I like.  I want to see the women hurt, extremely.  That is not good.  I don't think it's good.

I would like to be touched.  Hugged, cuddled, loved.  I would even love to have sex.  But I can't.  For a few reasons.  The main one right now is that I am terrified of men.  Strike that.  I am terrified of people.   And you sort of have to hang out with people before they will touch you.  People scare the shit out of me.

Except of course for my infatuation flavor of whatever day it is.  I mean, it's still sort of F, but since I no longer see him or live in his town, then I'm not gonna be doing much with him, am I?  Even if it's mooning over him.

I saw this amazing video that deconstructs what is going on with the characters Laura and Paul from "In Treatment".  I've seen this video before on youtube, but was watching it mainly because I love that storyline.  Come on, it's about a chick who is in love with her shrink.  What else am I going to be interested in, right? 

Here're the links, there are actually two awesome ones:    In Treatment: Laura testing Paul  and   In Treatment: Understanding Laura

Anyway, this therapist takes apart what Laura is doing, and it is exactly the same shit I pull all the time.  But it doesn't say she is bad or gross or that it's "her fault".  In fact, it sort of lambasts Paul and his crappy therapy.  Paul doesn't handle her testing well at all.  And he lets her down.

One thing this therapist states is that Laura was most probably sexually abused, probably by her father.  That doesn't turn out to be true later in the show, but we do learn she had an affair when she was 16 with a much older man.  I guess I should not call it an affair.  I guess I should say she was taken advantage of.  I should say she was abused.  Anyway, I sort of did that.  Or at least I tried. 

See the difference between Laura and me is that I never follow through with my guys.  Or they never follow through with me.  I needed someone to take a little more overt action because I was scared to death and didn't know what to do.  But if I had known what to do, I would have done it.  I was waiting for them to touch me first, and they never did.

I guess I am writing about Uncle Kevin.  And yes, he's my uncle by marriage to my mom's sister.  Not actually blood related to me.  But I had a huge crush on him when I was a teenager that blossomed into an even huger crush when I visited them when I was 20, just turning 21.

All this stuff with F, it falls right in line with what went on with Kevin.  It's the same damn pattern over and over, and it never gets satisfied.  I never actually have an affair with these men, I just pine and pine and pine and hurt over them and never do anything.  And feel guilty for even liking them in the first place because they are so inappropriate for me. 

So What the Fuck Did I Talk to F About?

So yeah, first let me state that I'm wasted.  I don't know if I'll let Lara read this because of my drunkenness.  It would get me kicked out of group.  Whatever.  Fuck it.

So, Dr. F and I, what did we talk about?  Well, he said Hi, I said Hi and it went on from there.  He asked me what I had been up to since November.  I told him I went to detox, then to rehab, then to WIIT.  I told him I had been treated for my trauma, even though I was not able to remember anything.

Yeah, so fuck F.  I don't want to talk about him anymore.  He may have not have meant to fuck me up, but he did; so he deserves no more of my time tonight.  Fuck him.  Fuck him, fuck him.  In fact I am so sick of this shit that I almost want to be direct and just tell him.  Fuck him.

I went out tonight with Sarah, and old friend from Gville.  We wound up at her local lesbian bar, partying hard.  It was fun.  Except that alcohol makes me puke and gives me a headache.  But I had fun.  And I want to write some songs.  Good times.

I'm still pretty wasted, although I've already done a pretty thorough round of puking already.  I'm going to go walk on the beach, swim and think about F and what I would say to him if I could just talk to him and not chicken out.  I am also going to hop the beautiful glass fence to the condos down the street and go in their hot tub.  Good times.  I will also listen to my Ipod.  I love technology.  Good night for now.

Goddamn It, I talked to F Again

And it went great.  As in not.  Not good at all.  OK, let's clarify.

For the past few weeks I have been doing anything I can to distract myself.  I'm not sure what I am distracting myself from, but I know that I have been doing dipshit stuff.  I wanted to start working as a body rub girl, jerking guys off for money.  I somehow stopped myself from doing that, even though the option is not totally erased from my mind.

Next, I relapsed on DXM (Rob, as Lara likes to call it).  I did that three times, for about a week. I was honest about it in group, and decided to stop.  But everyday I think about it and want to do it.  If I could do group and DXM, I'd be popping pills right now. 

Now most recently, I have started thinking about F again.  Yes, the F that I was so infatuated with last year.  I haven't really thought of him for months, but now the feelings started right back up again.  The same burning in my chest, the unbearable restlessness and the feeling of I have to do something NOW.  And of course, what I want to do NOW is talk to F.  And start up the whole damn thing over again.  Fuck.

I told Lara I wanted to call him and her unequivocal response was "NO".  She suggested I talk to the group about it, so I did for the last few minutes on Tuesday.  I could feel myself acting like a nutcase- giddy, grinning and acting like a teenager.  It's like an electric shock through my system, the feeling when I think about him.  It's fun and definitely like a drug.  Everyone in group ALSO thought it was a crap idea to call him.

So, guess what I did in the car as I left group?  I called him.  I left a voicemail message saying I had a question for him and left my number.  The office secretary said he works at that office only on Mon and Weds, so I didn't expect to hear from him that day.

On Weds I kept my phone on me all day, even leaving it on in group in case he called.  I was not going to miss his call.  He didn't call by about 3pm, so I left another message on his voicemail, saying I was hoping to talk to him about a letter and getting some records.  Total bullshit, but a valid reason as I still need to medically petition for my money back for my last semester.  I wish I hadn't left the second message giving a "real" reason to talk to me.  I wanted to see if he'd call me just to talk to me, but I messed that up by putting a valid business reason for the call.  Oh well.

So guess what!  He called me.  Which is pretty amazing, as he never called me back in a timely manner last year.  It was always like three days later.  Maybe he's got his shit together more this year.  So he called at about 5pm.  I almost don't want to go into what we talked about.  I don't want to get it wrong, and I don't want to put the work into getting it right.

Hilariosity: Look at this Fucking Hipster

This is awesome. I wanna live in Williamsburg. RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!   The land of the fucking hipster.
WWW.LATFH.COM

AWEsome.

AA? AA!!

So as I've mentioned, I'm on the white knuckle roller-coaster these past few days. Or for the past week. So today I figured if I wanted some company and didn't want to drink, then I should go to a meeting. The only reason I went was so that I could hang out with some people afterwords and get something to eat. So I went to the women's meeting at lambda.

The meeting blew- it was a speaker meeting and I didn't really groove with the speaker. She tried, but I just didn't connect with her. But we all went to a diner after and that was cool. Some woman sort of attached herself to me and kept talking about how important it was to talk to other people; that it doesn't come naturally and that she has to practice. It was very good advice. At first I thought maybe she was either hitting on me or trying to take me under her wing as a daughter figure, but then realized that she was just uncomfortable because she was shy and didn't know anyone either. It went well.

I met with Ethel today, and I didn't want to talk, so I talked about how my drug experiences felt. I'm not sure if it was a very profitable session. We got a bit into how I have no core, and that's why I won't attach to people. I may be able to fake people out for a while, but I don't want to have them be around for long because they will soon find out they are around a ghost. Or worse, a sucking, needy, puling black hole that could destroy them. Or at least make them very unhappy. I stay away from people so I won't hurt them, and so they won't be disappointed in me.

I'm sober right now even though I REALLY wanted to go to a bar tonight. I'm home in my PJ's, so if I don't leave then I'll stay sober until tomorrow. I guess that's good.

I want to ride my bike to IOP, but I'm afraid it's too far. That I'll get too tired. We'll see. I can't make a decision about it, there's some emotionality attached to it that I don't understand. I feel like if I don't ride then I'm a wimp and can't follow through on things. Sort of like my "job" problem of the last few days.

Whatevs. It's time to stop writing and watch Dorian Gray. Yay Colin Firth.

Google Maps to the Rescue?

So I checked the distance on Google Maps from the mall to our house. Only 5.8 miles. Not that far. Far enough, I guess. I think I hate her.

Here I Come Again

So I'm writing again because Lara wants me to write. I would like to take some of the credit, but hell, I really don't want to write. But I am at my wit's end and don't know what else to do, so here it is, me writing.

I've been fighting, white knuckle fighting, doing something/anything destructive for the past few days. Over the weekend I was sure I was going to use. Either drink and pick someone up or do DXM and maunder on the beach after watching Dorian Gray. But I didn't. But I still want to. It's early enough still tonight for me to go get some alcohol and be a dumbass.

We have a ton of new people in group, which I wasn't thrilled about at first, but am now glad of it. They are going to bring new energy, new perspectives. Good times.

I really do hate myself. And when I hate myself, I'm embarrassed that I'm still alive. I think I want to kill myself. Ugh. But I think I do.

My watch is too damn big and was fucking up my typing so I just took it off. I guess if I'm going to die, then should I have fun first? I was in this same place in March, when I sent my super-duper awesome email to Dr. . Yeah, there was a veiled "hey wanna fuck?" question in there, but the bulk of the email was about how I hated myself and wanted to travel, get fucked up and jump trains until I died. But somehow that whole part got ignored. Wonder why?

So.... I am coming to grips with the fact that my mom might just suck royally. But I'm not there yet. It would be easier if I could remember some really horrible thing she did to me, but there isn't anything. She just was mean and extremely unpredictable and unsafe. She hit me. She dragged me on the floor. She kicked me. She slammed my head by my hair all the time in the car. She broke my stereo, my most prized possession. But I figured out how to fix it every time she threw it. Fucking bitch.

She left me at the mall once. I was 16 or 17. It was before college. She got mad at me and left me at the mall. I had to walk home probably 6 or 7 (or more) miles. I remember walking home and being so embarrassed. I stopped to eat at a pizza place and somehow felt that everyone could see how gross I was, how contaminated and tainted. I felt like an other, like an "it", but a gross, unwelcome "it", not a neutral being. I was tainted. I just remember being shamed.

When I finally got home I walked back in the house through the front door. I remember trying to decide: front door or through my window? For some reason I chose the front door. Walking through the door was harder than the whole walk home. I just sort of wished I could die and not have to face her. She was sitting in the living room watching TV and didn't say a thing to me. It must have been hours later, it was a LONG fucking walk, with a stop to eat. And she didn't say a thing to me. nothing.

How could she do that to me? How could she not say "I am so sorry, I know I got mad, but I never wanted you to have to walk all by yourself all that way." Or "I went back to look for you and couldn't find you, I'm sorry." She had no idea if I had money or not. And this was long before I had a cell phone. She left her kid alone miles and miles from home and didn't give a shit.

But I did have money. I don't remember if I had my backpack, but I almost ALWAYS had it with me as a teenager, and it was exactly for reasons like that. In fact, maybe that started the backpack thing? But I remember I always wanted to be ready. I always had money, an extra jacket, writing materials and a book. I was safe then. Set for anything. I didn't need her, or safety, or knowing I had a ride home. I could take care of myself. Fuck her. I think. I mean, is leaving me awful? It feels awful, but maybe it's no big damn deal. I mean it's not being raped. It's not being beat up... It's just being... left.

DXM and Guitar

I think I'm going to get fucked up this weekend.  I want to do DXM so that I can feel.  Uh oh.  That's no good.

But being high is the time I feel safest to feel.  I don't have to stand guard at the gate, ushering in or blocking out my thoughts.  I can just let go.  And I'm happy.  I'm happy to die.  Life is good, I'm good, all is good when I'm high on DXM.  Maybe I can write a song.

I think I've also decided to write a short story about abuse.  Not sure what.  Childhood maybe?  Now?  I don't have enough of a fucking clue of what's going on with me now to write about it intelligently.  Or maybe I do.

I just finished reading Dr. Jack's book- the first part, the story part.  It triggered the urge to write.  His story begins with a woman in the car on the way to a  hospital.   I'm thinking I might start in the same place- a woman (me, but not me) driving herself to inpatient, as I did.  A nice fat five hour drive.  It was like liberation and fear at the same moment- driving myself to what?  The lady or the tiger??  It sure as fuck feels like the tiger a lot of the time.  And I'm not sure I want the lady even if she showed up. 

So yeah, a rumination on my/her ride down here.  But through it, there'll be remembrances of how she got to that point.  Not serious trauma, because hell, I don't have that.  I just hate myself.  But somehow let the fear, the excitement, the hope, the crushing depression and self hatred come through.  But show 'em, don't tell 'em, as old Samuel Clemens was wont to say.  What the fuck is with all my cute folksie-isms.  I'm about ready to make myself puke.

OK, goodnight.

In loving memory

The roomie that relapsed died.  Probably 3 or so hours after I wrote my previous post.  She stopped breathing and died in the bed next to me as I was sleeping.  I heard her breathing/snoring at about 5 AM, but she was dead when I woke up at 8:45 AM.

I don't know what more to say about it right now.  There is so much to say that I am overwhelmed and can't begin to communicate.  Because beginning and not saying enough or not saying the right thing would be worse than just staying mute.

I guess I could say I feel badly.  And I am sad.  I went to her funeral yesterday.  She was loved.  It is a horrible thing, her death.  She did not deserve it.  Yes, it was a horrible, horrible waste.  Terrible.

Enough.