writing is the art of the soul.

I'm bubbling with pride at the moment. I feel like my life is finally coming together. So you all know that I've been running Women for Sobriety (WFS) meetings at my local detox centre for the women in there. I guess a woman's shelter heard about me somehow and called to see if I could run WFS at their shelter once a week. It is such a wonderful, humbling, rewarding opportunity. I feel such happiness that my volunteering is making a difference. Not only that, it's saving people. There is one woman from detox who since attending the meeting I run, has been sober ever since. She's the only one so far, but only if I only save on life, it will be worth it.

I'm also going to be an aunt in less than 3 months! I'm so excited that I am sober and alive to be a part of the baby's life. I want my niece to be to have a role model in me, and I finally feel like I'm worthy of that title.

And on top of all that, my writing for both Substance for You and Sisters in Serenity and Sobriety is going amazingly well. I had two WFS members call me today to tell me how incredibly talented I am. I wouldn't go that far with it, but it's nice to be praised for my writing. Writing to me is taking all the negative, unhealthy, toxic energy from inside me and expelling it onto paper in the form of words, sentences and paragraphs. Writing is the soul's art. I am just honored to be able to express my soul in such a way that touches other people's lives.

I've missed you all, but I'm so happy to say that I'm feeling good. Except for the cold I have, but I'm in such a great mood, I don't even care about it.

Much love, xx.

my insides are screaming at me to just get high.

So good news! I'm feeling much better. 

The other day sort of got way out of hand when I had to speak to my brother about his drinking and talking to me while drunk. He's down visiting from out of town but has come home wasted almost every night this week.  It's just so frustrating and triggering when he talks to me like that. And for some reason the conversation always comes back to my recovery. So I'm talking to a person who's just waxed about not being waxed...it's awkward. Especially because my insides are screaming at me to just go get high so I can be in the same state. It sucks. So when I asked him not to, things got out of control and we fought. So I was in a bad mood and then sort of got into it with the guy who runs the site I've been writing for. It was mostly my fault and I escalated it pretty quick because of the two things happening around the exact same time. I feel bad about it, but everything is back to normal so that's good.

Anyways, not only do I get to write for Substance for You, I've also been asked to write for Sisters of Serenity and Sobriety, which is another huge website. It feels really good that my writing is being so well perceived. I feel really proud.

I've been missing you all, being so busy with everything I've sort of been neglecting my own blog, so my goal is to catch up with all three.

Hope all is well with everyone!

Much love, xx.

her fat ego makes me think she has a thin mind.

http://substanceforyou.com/body-shamers-be-ashamed-of-yourself/

Still not having a good day, but the good news is I have written an article taking on body shamers in the hopes that people will be more body positive. Please read and like it, or recommend it on here. I appreciate all your love and support, especially on days like this.

to just get high and let the blissful obliteration wash over my mind and body.

Seriously? Go fuck yourself. Like I have bad days too, I don't need people bitching at me because I have a simple fucking request. It's so annoying. I have more bad days than good lately and I don't take it out on other people. Maybe it's because I take it out on myself, but still, that's better than being a passive aggressive little fuck.

Ugh, now my day's turned shitty. I think I'm going to go smoke about 15 cigarettes then have a nap. Why does addiction and bulimia have to have such a strong grip on my life? It just makes me miserable. Do you know how much easier it would be to just give into it? To just get high and let the blissful obliteration wash over my mind and body?

Fuck....I just miss it so much. I feel like I lost a best friend or something. Or an husband. My addiction was my love and my life and being separated from it sometimes is just unbearable. I'm not going to relapse but I want to. I want to so so bad.

her forever exhaustion written clearly on her once flawless face.

Back When She Was Beautiful: Part One

She was beautiful once. It was a long time ago. Before she sold her soul to the monster. The devil. It was back when her eyes sparkled with life and love. Before the light burnt out and the life was stolen from her. Stolen and given away to the pills. To the needle. To the tin foil and the pipes. To the street. She once strove for thinness, cursed with curves. But now she's too skinny. All ribs, gaunt, hollow face. Her porcelain skin once glowing, now pale and marked. The scars she sliced into her arm now match the scars on her heart and soul. Cuts that sliced deeply inside and out. The needle she's become a slave to punctures her skin, piercing her veins, leaving track marks down her neck. Down her mind. A complexion once clear is marked with blemishes, imperfections. Dark circles rim her dead eyes. Her forever exhaustion written clearly on her once flawless face. She thought dope would make her more stunning, perfect. She was wrong when she thought it would give her everything, back when she was beautiful.

i looked death in the face and made it out alive.

http://substanceforyou.com/from-struggle-to-success/

Here's a link to another article of mine. Please read and like/share it with anyone you know.

it's not thinness or fat, it's life or death.

Here is my most recent post for the Substance For You website. :)

The definition of eating disorders is a broad term that encompasses the many types of eating disorders, including bulimia and anorexia nervosa, binge eating disorder, atypical anorexia and eating disorders not otherwise specified (EDNOS). On their own eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illnesses and can result in serious health consequences, suicide, and death. That is to say, simply having only an eating disorder is extremely dangerous. They are even more dangerous when co-occurring with other mental illnesses.

Co-morbidity is defined as 'the presence of one or more additional disorders (or diseases) co-occurring with a primary disease or disorder'. Eating disorders have a high co-morbidity rate with other severe mental illnesses, such as depression, anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Which means someone with an eating disorder is likely to suffer from other mental disorders along with whichever eating disorder they struggle with.

According to the National Eating Disorder Association (NEDA), substance abuse disorder has the highest co-morbidity rate along with eating disorders. NEDA states that nearly 50 percent of individuals with an eating disorder also abuse drugs and alcohol, which is a rate five times higher than the general population. This means that someone with an eating disorder of any type is five times more likely to develop an addiction than the average man or woman. Due to the fact that both eating disorders and addiction are correlated with higher instances of death, having both is extremely life-threatening and needs to be treated as soon as possible.

For me, I had my eating disorder long before my addiction came into the picture. I developed depression and anxiety as well at a very young age. I can't remember a time where I didn't feel some sort of depression or anxious feeling. I believe this along with extremely low self-esteem and a higher body weight, led to feelings of body dissatisfaction. This hatred for my body is the reason I went to extreme dieting to lose over 100 pounds in less than one year. This weight loss is also when my bulimia nervosa developed. It was so easy to fix any 'mistakes' I made in eating by purging anything I ate that was considered 'forbidden'. I no longer needed to worry about cheating on my diet because I had found this loophole in the system. I felt like I had discovered some secret ingredient to a perfect body and I continued this behaviour to this day, ignoring the negative effects it has had on my health.

That feeling of discovering something 'incredible' is almost the exact same feeling I had when I had my first line of Oxycontin. It was around five years after I developed bulimia that I started using opiates to numb any pain I felt. I dealt with a lot of death in a short span of time and drugs were my way to cope. I couldn't bear losing my grandma, dog, and dad all in a few months. I promised myself I would finish school to make my dad proud, at any cost. My freedom was that cost.

I started using in December of 2011 around exam time. I needed to be up studying for most of the night. Having been dating someone who was involved in the drug lifestyle, I knew all about Oxy's and how dangerous they were. I had seen up close the toll they took on people's lives. But for some reason, I didn't care. Or maybe I did care but I thought I was intelligent enought to trick the system and be just fine. Regardless of what I thought would happen, I knew two things. One was that they would help me stay awake studying. I knew that if I did a line here or there, my grades would sky rocket. And two, I knew I'd feel much better than I did at the time. I felt so alone and depressed, I think I was willing to try anything, no matter how bad it was for me.

For a time using worked wonders in my life. My grades improved immensely for a while. I would stay up rocked out of my mind studying and doing assignments all night and actually enjoying it. I would go to class feeling amazing. The drugs heightened everything and boring classes became these incredible lectures that I needed to hear. I no longer felt depressed. In fact, I felt pretty amazing. I remember my brother making a comment to my mom about how well I was doing with my dad's passing. I even recall laughing about that comment to myself in a sick way.

'Ha! If only they knew my secret!' I thought.

Not only did my mood and grades improve, my weight loss did too. Using pills made me feel somewhat full all the time. I felt absolutely no desire to eat anything. As long as I was high, I didn't need anything else at all. Sometimes I would even do too much and would be too sick to eat. Those moments of what I considered sickness was only a hint at was coming my way.

The first time I felt withdrawal I didn't know what it was. I woke up feeling sick, fidgety and sore. I couldn't keep anything down and I could not stay still for the life of me. My legs jumped around, completely restless. I didn't think anything of it because almost as soon as I got up, I was doing lines of Oxy. It took a while for me to connect the dots: if I use, that feeling goes away. If I was smart, I would have gotten out then before it was too late, but I didn't.

My addiction fed into my eating disorder for another three to four years. I would wake up, use, not eat, study, binge, purge, use, starve. Repeat. After a while though, the positive effects of using wore off. It took more and more to get high. More and more to feel normal. I had never felt anything like the sickness I felt when I didn't have any drugs. But my weight was extremely low, so I didn't care. I didn't care about living or dying, as long as I was thin and somewhat high, life was okay. I started missing more and more school and spending more and more money on dope. Things were starting to fall apart all ready. My grades went down to an all time low. I had to drop out of classes because I missed to many classes and had no idea what I was doing. My life was getting chaotic and out of control.

My dysfunctional relationship was getting more dysfunctional by the day. He was a drinker and my dealer (although he didn't know it at the time) and the more we abused substances together, the more erratic our relationship got. I wouldn't consider him abusive, but many would. I was okay with it though, because when I would get high, I would get mean. I'd even fight back when things got violent. And as much as I loved him, I needed him more. I completely started to use him because I knew no other way to get drugs. My eating disorder and addiction became more important than he and my family did. I didn't care about anyone. Not even myself. I wanted to punish myself for all the horrible things I had been doing by doing more and more.

Eventually my mom and ex-boyfriend gave me an ultimatum: get help or get out. So I checked myself into detox, paid for by both my mom and ex. I stayed for the five days in excruciating pain, planning the day I'd get out so I could get some more drugs. Finally the day came when I was released. My first stop was to pick up two new friends who were addicts too. This is when I first stuck a needle in my arm. I had gone through the progression of using, from snorting to smoking to injecting. I knew that moment that there was no going back. I was a full-blown junkie and there was nothing that could change that. Or so I thought.

I hid my use for a month or so before being kicked out by first my mom and then my ex. I had no place to go except my car. I ended up homeless and couch surfing for about five months in 2014. At this time, any money I got went into my veins so I had no time or way of eating. My weight sank to an new all time low. I looked so sick, and part of me loved it. I loved the harsh look of my bones and track marks. I wore them with pride. But as time went on like this, I sank in to a lower depression. I started to hate myself and my life even more. I felt so hopeless that I wanted to die. All I wished for was an accidental; overdose so I wouldn't have to face my horrible life anymore.

Finally I got my wish. The 'friends' I was staying with assaulted me and threw me out. Broken, battered and alone, I sought help form my mom. I hadn't spoken to her in months and just the sound of her voice made me cry. I realized then how much I missed my family, my friends.

I finally got help, went to treatment for my addiction and traumas, found a Women for Sobriety chapter in my city and never looked back. I knew that I had to get help for my eating disorder as well, however, otherwise I would relapse. They fed into each other immensely, so I needed to treat both or risk being back out on the streets. I am currently still in outpatient treatment for my bulimia and am almost 11 months sober. I honestly couldn't be happier. I know there is a long way to go still, but I can truly say it is worth it.

One thing I know is that if someone is struggling with one of these mental illnesses, they need to seek help. And if someone is suffering from both, or has a different co-occurring disorder, your life is in serious jeopardy. I urge everyone to get help, it may be tough, but it's treatment or death. The statistics prove that the choice is isn't thinness or fat, high or not. It is life or death.  

the clouds were gray and cold, when the girl came in from the rain.

Here is my newest poem about my addiction and drinking. Hope you enjoy it. 


The Darkness

The clouds were gray and cold
When the girl came in from the
Darkness and falling rain.

She pushed her hair from her face
And wiped away the raindrops below her eyes
With a killer smile, she ordered
'Vodka water, hold the water.'

She took a gulp, slammed her glass
No grimace, not a rookie
Another and another ordered
Slammed down.

She finished her eight
With a beautiful giggle
Voice full of life, saying
'I can't believe I came in crying'
Mood clearly changed.

She looked at me with red rimmed blues
And suddenly understanding came
Sparkling clarity, in dead eyes
Those raindrops were tears
Falling in the dark off her pretty face.

never let the things you want make you forget about the things that you have.

So I've been so busy these last few days/weeks so I haven't had as much time to write. Plus writing full time for someone else's blog has been time consuming, so with treatment, sobriety, starting at detox, I've been so swamped and have been neglecting my baby (this blog). So I thought I'd do a bit of an update to catch everyone up.

I started the Women for Sobriety meetings at detox last Tuesday. My friend who came said I did extremely well but I was so nervous I thought I bombed the whole thing. I was terrified that they would ask us not to come back. But I guess if she says I did well and they haven't said not to come, then I must have done something right. Who knows. There was only one girl there. I won't say much about her because I don't believe it's right to break confidentiality, but she made me feel so sad. I felt for her so badly, having been in similar circumstances last year. I was lucky, however, not to have to get into the sex trade for drugs. I know for  a fact though that if I had stayed out there, it would have come to that very quickly. I could already start to see it happening. She had nine children due to the sex trade industry. It was so hard to hear, but it made me so grateful for where I am now. Safe in my own bed, with no worries of getting money or drugs or being whored out by some abusive pimp.

On top of that, my writing for Substance for You has been going fabulous. Writing is the one thing I know for sure that I am good at, so I take immense pride in the things I write. Contributing to his blog is a huge milestone for me as it reaches a much broader audience. Plus it's my first time writing as me, not Jenna or Roxy. Just me, JORDYN. Yep, I said it. My real name is Jordyn and I'm a good writer. Hear that bitches (Jenna and Roxy I mean)? Your grip isn't so tight anymore.

As far as treatment goes, I've been doing much better. I've been doing my homework and doing my goals. Before I wasn't really trying to work on the goals I'd set, but the past two weeks I have completed them both perfectly. I'm really happy about this. It gives me hope that I can indeed, do this.

Hope all has been well in the blogger world. I've missed you all.

Much love, xx.

music plays the moments, pauses the memories, stops the pain and rewinds happiness.

I've always been a music lover. Music has always been a way for me to cope. I listen to songs that express my mood or that inspire me. I've always loved songs that are eating disorder related, as seen by older posts about Marianas Trench. The lead singer is bulimic but also  had a heroin addiction. So after my own addiction developed, their songs took on a whole new meaning for me. I could related to them in both ways and I felt like they were written for me, about me, or by me. Something about his lyrics really touched my soul.

I could so easily feel his pain, his struggles, his triumphs, his set backs, etc. Every single word was etched into my own heart and mind.

Now that I am sober (almost 11 months!!!!!), some music is hard for me to listen to. I've always loved rap about dope dealing as well as songs about being an addict or using drugs. So it's sort of hard to listen to the ones that almost promote using. But I can't seem to stop myself. I love the songs too much to change the channel when they come on. They get stuck in my head.

I think I like them because they also give me this false boost in my confidence. I listen to them and remember my past when I was a somewhat big shot in the drug world. At least, behind scenes anyways. It takes me back to driving around selling or, more recently, buying. I just go right back to every single high moment where we'd drive around bumping music about drugs and just have a blast. It's like we glorified and intensified our use buy listening to songs about selling dope. So listening to them now it brings me back to those days when I thought I was so cool. It was like I had a secret that nobody else got to know. I felt special. It felt amazing to sort of know exactly what the songs where saying when most other people wouldn't make the connection. I felt like I was privy to top secret, cool kid information. And it almost gave me a bigger high than just being ripped did.

So I listen to them, I think, to try and acheive that same high again. I can't have the dope, but I can still have the songs about dope. And sometimes it does give me that same satisfaction. That same natural high.

But other times it's nothing more than a bad trigger. The music doesn't seem good enough and I want more. I think, this music would be better if I had some pills, coke, ice, whatever. And so starts a craving cycle.

I don't know if I should stop. Should I avoid any songs that make using seem like a dope thing to do (excuse the pun)? Or should I keep doing it. Sometimes I justify it by thinking that it's better to listen to the music than to actually go out and get high. I don't know. I'm so torn about this. I don't want to give it up. I feel like it's one of the last pieces I have of my addiction and I'm clinging on to them like they're my life.

Much love, xx.

sometimes you will never know the true value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.

So I've been looking through old Facebook pictures and I'm so shocked at many of them. I see them and instantly remember the exact time period in my life. I recall what I was doing, who I was with, and most importantly, how I felt. In so many of them I was almost too scared to post them because I honestly believed that I was so fat and gross.

Looking at them now it just makes me so sad for myself. I can see now how thin I really was. I was even borderline skinny. In one, you can especially see my collarbones sticking out like crazy.

See?!

It's so bizarre to me that in those moments I really, truly thought I was huge! It just shows how much bulimia really distorts your self-perception. I always knew it did, but to this degree is just shocking. It leaves me feeling a mixture of sadness and jealousy.

Sadness because I wish that I could have recognized how beautiful I was back then. Maybe things would have gone a little better. Maybe I wouldn't have turned to dope. Maybe I'd become eating disorder free. Maybe I'd be happy. Who knows. The possibilities are endless.

But at the same time, I look at these photos with such a strong sense of jealousy and anger. I think to myself, 'What an idiot! Didn't you see how good you had it?' and 'Wow, I'd die to be this weight again.'  I know this is extremely disordered thinking, but I can't help it. It just sort of causes this hatred for the weight I am now. It just makes me feel so giant. I don't even know how to deal with it. I don't want to delete the pictures, but I also can't let them get to me like this. It's unrealistic to ever think I can be my high school weight again.

I wish I could use it as a learning experience, but I'm not sure how. I know it shows how distorted my view is, so it should tell me that I'm not as fat as I think I am now. But you know how it is, eating disorders lie. Mirrors lie too. And Jenna's in my head telling me to starve myself until I'm that girl in the pictures again.

I just wish this was all over with. I wish I could just be normal and happy. In fact, I wish none of this ever happened, because I don't know how to overcome it.

the road to success comes from hard work, determination and sacrifice.

I'm SO excited today! I don't think I've felt this good in a long, long time. I feel almost manic. If I didn't have good, exciting news, I'd be a bit worried about myself. Especially since I was put on a new mood stabilizer called Abilify.

Anyway, I had the meeting with the detox program coordinator today. And everything went very well! In fact, I start hosting the Women For Sobriety meetings there tomorrow! I couldn't believe it. I thought for sure that he would have to think everything over and then get back to me. So the fact that he said 'can we start this week?' was just a lovely shock.

I'm so thrilled about it and have been getting myself ready for tomorrow. I want to host the meeting as best as I can because I know that the other women in WFS are counting on me to spread the message in a professional, proficient manner. Plus, I feel that if I screw up, it could cost someone their sobriety. I need to really make sure I do well, but also not to get too much involved with each person. I know that the statistics for recovery are grim, so I can't expect that they will all get and stay sober. But I'm definitely going to keep my optimistic attitude and hope. I know that all it takes is someone to believe in you to make you believe in yourself. And then from there, recovery can seem like a possibility. I've taken this job on to help other women in need. So that's exactly what I'm going to do.

I just feel so great about it. I'm just so proud of myself. I can't believe it.
Wish me luck!

Much love, xx.

as a writer, you ask yourself to dream while awake.

I've been asked to write a blog post for this cool website about addiction and recovery. I asked to write a piece on addiction, but when the owner found out about my bulimia, he said he'd love some on eating disorders. So I promised him two different ones. One will be about 'One day in the life of Bulimia' and another is how they develop, the mindset when you have one, and the mental health issues that can lead to one. I'm pretty exicted, but also incredibly nervous.

 This will be me writing as me. Not writing as Jenna or Roxy, which are my ED and addiction identities, as you know. I feel safe being Roxy-an addict, or Jenna-the bulimic. It's been so long since I've written as my own person. I feel a bit exposed. But at the same time, it is a huge honour to be able to write these. I feel like I'll be speaking on behalf of every single one of us. Telling my story and yours. Because when it comes down to it, we may be on different sides, but we're still on the same coin that is eating disorders.

I don't even know where to start. There are so many ideas swirling around in my head. So many thoughts and emotions I want to share with readers. So many facts and stats about eating disorders. I don't even know how they'll all fit into two 1500 word posts. I need to set some time aside, write all my ideas down and come up with a rough draft. It's not like my blog here where I just get an idea, do a bit of research, find a quote that suits my idea, and then just start writing and letting the words fall as they may. This one has to be much more structured, accurate, and well-written. I'll have a broader audience with very intelligent respected people who have written before me. So I need this to be amazing.

Then again, maybe I shouldn't be so worried and obsessed. I feel like thinking to much into might just set me up for failure. I'll be so nervous that I won't be writing at my A-game. I think the best move will be to write for you. I do it almost everyday. I respect each of you even more than the other people on this site. And I trust you with my secrets. I know none of you will judge. So if I write it for you guys, then I think it'll be true perfection: where my honesty, passion, and flaws make the writing imperfectly perfect. I feel like I'll connect better to the audience if I think the audience will be my follows and readers here.

So thank-you for being my role models, supports, inspirations, and audience. I appreciate you all so much, even if my fan base isn't huge. I care for each of you in a profound way that can only be understood by others with these awful disorders. We're connected by our ED's and recovery in a way that is unfathomable to others. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Much love, xx.

P.S. I will share the posts I write for this site as soon as they're finished!

be the change you wish to see in the world.

In recent posts I had been talking about Women for Sobriety and volunteering to host meetings for the women at my local detox. At the time the program coordinator had not yet replied to my two attempts at contacting him. I was frustrated and a bit let down. I was worried that he was an adamant 12 step sort of guy and didn't want WFS coming in.

 Now don't think I'm putting the 12 steps down, I'm absolutely not. They help many people get and stay sober. So if it works for someone, great. I feel each individual has the choice to do whatever the feel keeps them sober. I'm just saying that many people do not know anything other than AA/NA/CA. There are some (not all) 12 steppers that think that the only thing that works is NA/AA and won't be open or willing to try or learn about other options. I personally never could connect to NA. I really tried to because many experts praise and recommend 12 step meetings, sponsors, etc. But in the end, it was not for me. There were some things I liked, but many more things I didn't. I gave it a long, honest try and it just wasn't helping. Sometimes I'd even come home feeling worse than I did before.

I was so, so fortunate to discover Women for Sobriety and to attend a meeting. I was even more lucky that we had a local meeting in my small, shitty city. Those meetings, the 13 affirmations, and the women both in my group and online have totally helped me save my life. They made me see how much I have to offer, how much good I am and have, and how much I had in my life. I always left feeling just absolutely wonderful, positive, strong, and filled with this incredible refreshing energy to get through the week and any problem. They even are supporting my treatment for my bulimia. The women there just ooze positivity, health, recovery, intelligence and compassion. They're every quality I respect and hope to be.

Now, before I finally got sober and found WFS I was in detox. While I was there they hosted one or two 12 step meetings per week. When I got out, I went straight back out to use and stuck a needle in my arm for the first time. I'm not saying that the 12 step meeting wasn't helpful. It was. But it also wasn't what I needed for my recovery, especially at that time. Since finding WFS I often ponder this and wonder, 'If there had been a Women for Sobriety meeting, would I have stayed sober?' I may not have, but there's also the chance I could have prevented that whole summer downfall. There's no point in dwelling on the past. There's nothing I can change about my story. But, I can change this for someone else in the future. So this is why I want to host a meeting there so badly. I'm extremely passionate about raising awareness for other meeting/treatment options. Especially for women.

One of my issues was that I rarely felt comfortable sharing every part of my story in a group full of mostly men. There are many women who feel the same. So I think it's important that there is an all women option where they can discuss traumas, abuse, rape, etc. with only women. They need a place where they will be met with understanding, empathy and will be safe. Women for Sobriety is that place. And of course anybody is more than welcome to attend  both WFS and NA/AA/CA. I don't want to encourage people not to attend those meetings, I simply just want to show women and others that there is another option for them out there (there is Men for Sobriety too, by the way).

Anyway, I'm extremely happy because I finally heard back from the program coordinator. He wants to set up a meeting with me to discuss things. I'm feeling hopeful. The woman who forwarded my message to him said that they're lucky to have 'such a wonderful opportunity.' I know it wouldn't hurt to have us come in, and would certainly do some good. Not only for the women in detox, but for me as well. Plus, there has recently been more requests for WFS meeting information. I'm excited to talk with him and discuss the benefits of this. I want this so badly it hurts. I'm going to start preparing so that when I go I'll be fully ready to answer any questions, concerns, etc. Our detox needs this. Women need this. And it thrills me to be the one to finally start this awareness movement. It just makes me feel proud. It will make my recovery so much more fulfilled to be able to help others and give back.

This has totally brought me out of my down mood. So today, I'm celebrating this success.

Much love, xx.

an over-indulgence of anything, even something as pure as water, can intoxicate.

So it is clear to see that I am one who lives for over-indulgence. I've done it with food, drugs, booze, sleep, drama, fun, danger, etc. I've even over-indulged in love. And the more I grow, the more I see that love was the most dangerous intoxicant of them all. Even dope isn't as dangerous as love was to me.

Most would say that my last relationship was abusive. And in many ways, it probably was. So why is it that I can't see that? Why do I still think that he's the one that got away? The one that I was meant to be with had I not blown it and chosen drugs over him? I don't know if I'll ever fully understand.

When I got sober, we hadn't spoken in months. Just before I went into rehab, I sent him a message letting him know I was safe, clean and getting help. I called him the night before. He was with a girl. it made me absolutely furious. I wanted to go and slit her throat. I know, that sounds just plain horrid, scary, and messed up of me. But I'm only being honest, that was my first thought. Obviously I would never do it. After he hung up because of her protesting, I broke down into uncontrollable tears. Thinking, 'I couldn't go to rehab now! I need to be home so that I can convince him to come back to me. I can't be away, what if he messages me and wants me back and I'm not there to get it?' I wished I hadn't called. I knew it would hurt me, but I didn't care. I wanted the pain over nothing. I wanted to drown in that love induced pain and hurt.

I ended up going to treatment and sort of put it in the back of my mind. I knew that if I thought about the truth, it would rip me wide open and I couldn't handle that. I talked about every other trauma in my life except that. When my counselor asked me if there's anything unresolved with my ex, I lied and said no. Saying no and having her believe me was the best acting performance of my life. Just being asked about him brought me to the verge of tears and a massive breakdown. How I managed a smile and a 'no' with my throat closing, choking on a sob is beyond me. I guess years of fake smiles and manipulation paid off. Or ripped me off, if you think about it.

It was something I needed to deal with and didn't. So after rehab, I just kept him in the back of my mind, never letting him come to the front. Once and a while thoughts would slip in and I'd lose it. I couldn't listen to love songs, break up songs, or any songs we both liked. I'd go insane. Anywhere I went reminded me of him. Even some shows were off limits. It was like if I didn't think about it, the pain and reality wouldn't be there. I even banned myself from facebook. I was scared to have messages from him. Or worse, none at all.

So one day, something came over me. I felt this crazy urge to read my facebook, to get it over with. The not knowing and keeping it locked away would cause knots in my stomach almost everyday. I needed to check. Needless to say, there were messages. But not what I thought. They were sad messages, messages of love, and pain and hurt. He still loved me. He doesn't love her. I replied, months after they had been sent and told him what had happened with me, how I was, and how I felt. I told him that I wanted to keep our promise. We always swore that we would always be in each other's lives regardless of anything that happened.

I decided that I couldn't lose him again. It would kill me. Months of ignoring it had somehow let me sort of come to terms with another girl being there. Don't get me wrong, I still hate her and have awful pangs of jealousy here and there, but I was somewhat okay with that fact. I knew I'd rather have him as a friend than not to have him at all. So again, I chose to indulge in that love induced pain.
It's like I can't stand not having things, especially in excess. It was more scary to me to just let him go and learn to be okay alone that to have him but not be able to be his girl again. I'd rather be hurt in unimaginable ways to keep him, than to feel nothing and let it go.

And let me tell you, it hurts. It hurts almost daily, but I can't stop. I can't stop smothering myself in love, hate, pain, and tears. I will indulge in it as long as I can. Bad for me or not. I mean, nothing bad for me has never stopped me before. If anything, those 'bad things' encouraged me. They only made it more intoxicating. Like the thrill of doing something illegal and getting away with it.

So even though he caused pain and still does so, I will not let him go. I need him in my life. I don't care how other people viewed our relationship. I loved him in ways most people can't imagine. And he loved me. We fought hard, but we loved harder. That's just who we were. And I wouldn't change it for the world.

But why do I do these things? Why can't I just be okay with normal amounts? Will I always be doomed to be a gluttonous person who can't do anything in moderation? I suppose not, because I seem to only be able to function in extremes. I can do things in all or nothing ways. Never anything in between. With drugs it was do it all or don't do any. Same with love, booze, sleep, whatever. I guess I just think in very black and white terms. I don't know if I'll ever learn to enjoy the grey areas of life.

Much love, xx.

 The two of us on vacation. He'd kill me if he knew I shared this!

He may be bad for me, but I don't know if I could say no. I should say no. I should run the other way. But with my track record of over-indulgence, no isn't often a word I use.

This is sort of true, but at the same time, being his everything and doing anything for him made me feel bright and shiny. And I was his everything too. So it wasn't one sided.

I don't know if this one is true, but I hope it is. Either with someone else, or him. As long as it's true.

you cannot hang out with negative people and expect a positive life.

I've been thinking about my last year using. Like really thinking about it. I think it has a lot to do with my continued depression and down days. Usually they only last a day or two and then I snap back into a positive mood. But for some reason, I've been stuck in this low for a long time now. Longer than normal. I don't know if thinking about it brought it on, or if thinking about it is what is keeping it on or what. All I know is I'm feeling down, sad, and like giving up and I can't stop thinking about the 'good old days'.

These memories come on when I'm talking, especially when talking about something drug related or back from that time period. They start when I'm craving, which ends up increasing the time and intensity of the craving, making it ten times worse. But mostly, I get vivid, powerful memories when I listen to music. Anything I listened to daily during last summer instantly brings me right back there. Some songs bring me back to bad things and I have to change it immediately. Others bring me back to the times when I had a blast. Although that overall time was a nightmare, there were also many times where me and my friends had an absolute riot. 

This brings me to my friends, just as my memories do every time. I met most of them through this idiot, Dan, I was seeing/was friends with. But he turned out to be a pathological liar and would often get arrested or show up places only to have his mother pick him up a few minutes later for 'sneaking out.' He was 28 years old, just to clarify why this was so pathetic and annoying. She would also call the police, which as you know, is never something you want when you're a needle using junkie. Anyways, there were about 6 or 7 key players at this time of my life. Let me introduce them.

1. Angus, 39: Dan's friend from rehab. He was an ex-con from a federal prison. He robbed a bank with a shot gun, among-st other things. He was the first guy to fix me up (which I think creates a strange bond between people because you trust them and then experience that first exquisite high together; it's almost intimate in a way). He became a good friend and often let me sleep there when I had no place to go. We stole together, got high together, were sick together, but never ever slept together. I didn't want to cross that line. He was cool shit, but would go into psychosis whenever using any ups. 
2. Krystle, 34: Angus's wife (sort-of?). I met her when she reappeared in his life out of nowhere. I was getting sick of him, as he was me since I had been there too long. She needed a ride home, so in return, she got me crystal (meth)/Xanax and let me sleep over. We somehow really bonded that night. She was tiny, tough, and very ill.
3. John A ?: Friend of Angus's from a different town. I met him when he got out of jail and stopped by looking to pick-up. He introduced us to his connect, who had a good supply of pills and meth. He also stopped by randomly high as a kite and was annoying as hell when he did meth. He was a nice guy though and meant well. He'd help me get drugs and money when I couldn't. The second person I let fix me up. He was also a kleptomaniac. So he'd often help us steal, but wasn't trustworthy otherwise. 
4. Rodney, 50: Rodney was John's connect. The second time I met him, I drove him 45 minutes away and back to pick up his supply of ice. He hooked us all up nicely for that. I did it again the next day, but alone. I told him I wanted pills, not crystal, since, it was my thing. This is how I met his girlfriend.
5. Kat, 32: Rodney's girl (which I didn't know until later). She was known as the 'pill girl'. She liked me instantly and gave me her number so I could call her directly. I did, often. She also sold ice. When her and Rodney set up shop together, I got really lucky. I'd drive them at least once per day to go get their 2 ounce supply and get a taste of it plus free pills, a place to stay, and often food. She was the only one I knew who actually had money. She reminded me of me back when I was dealing with my ex before I got caught up in the dope. She hustled hard and I respected her for it. They respected me. I was the only one who would find dope on the floor and give it back instead of stealing it. Plus, I had a car. And I knew how to inject other people. So she'd call me late at night, asking me to come fix her up. 'I'll pay you', she'd say.  I don't know why she took me in, but I'll be forever grateful to her for it. I think I reminded her of her too. Which is a scary though, her being exactly ten years older than me. It was like I was looking ahead into my dark future. 
6. Chris, 29: Lived below Angus. Was into me for a time, but hated me after I refused to sleep with him and chose to stay with Angus instead. I feel bad now. I was a bitch to him.
7. Trelaine, ?: Girl I met in detox before I met anyone else. She was a bit stuck up. But bought me Chinese food in there. Turned out, she knew Angus and started coming by near the end. She was a two-faced, lying, skank-bitch and I hate her.
8. Mike, Cutie, Romeo: Various dealers. 

So now that I've briefly introduced them (Which was extremely hard, since that time was chaotic and crazy and sort of interlaps each other. Plus, it's a bit fuzzy anyways),I'll get more to the point. Around that time these people were my life. They substituted my lost boyfriend, family, and friends. They knew who I was at that time and didn't mind. In fact they liked me. They were the first people to look right into the depths of my rotted soul and still want me around. It was the first time I felt accepted. We took care of each other, almost like a family, or gang. If we all couldn't get something, we'd all go without. We each had our skills and used them together in order to get money, drugs, smokes, gas, food, whatever (in that order). We laughed often, got sick often, and played often. We did horrible illegal things together and blamed the system for it. There was always so much drama and chaos and crazy, dangerous shit happening that I grew to thrive within all of it. I even trusted them with my life, having them shoot me up in my neck when I had no other veins. So now that it's gone and my life is simple and boring and sober, it's no wonder I often miss it. And them. They were friends, bonded together in our addictions.

 But the sad thing is, in active addiction, friend is such a loose term. When it comes down to it, we were all using each other to benefit ourselves. And when someone became a burden or was no longer useful, we threw them away like we threw away our old needles. Like we threw away our lives. We didn't care about our own lives, so why would we value others? So I guess in the end, we weren't useful to each other anymore. We had all exhausted our energy and resources. We had burnt out.

So at the very end, I was living with Angus and Krystle. It was a crazy mix because she often never took her medication for her bipolar disorder. It was exacerbated by the drugs and she would swing in and out of moods like it was nothing. One minute she'd love him, the next she hated us all. Then back again. It usually depended on what we had at that point. She also was an unpredictable thief. She'd often go in my purse and take my car keys. Or money. She even robbed Dan blind as he laid overdosing on the floor in her apartment. Then did all his drugs while I sat there sick and he was in the hospital. She wouldn't admit she'd done it. When I accused her, she told me to leave. I didn't and just backed down. She knew she had me and she knew I knew it too. 

Anyway, in early August she went to detox. She had to be rushed to the hospital because of withdrawal induced seizures. They told her that she'd have to get on Suboxone or methadone in order to get sober. So on August 11th, I drove her. She convinced me to get on the program too, at least so I wouldn't always be sick if we didn't have dope. I agreed. Angus got on it too. We all started talking about our happy, sober futures. We started to get hope, and hope can be a dangerous thing. The methadone helped me right away. I ended up sleeping for 95% of the day. I called my mom who I hadn't spoken to since May. I told her, I'm getting on the program and asked her to come to the appointments with me. She did. So on August 14th she gave me $20 for food and methadone. This was huge because I knew it meant she had hope to and was trusting that I would get sober. That day, we got into another stupid, pointless fight. But this time, Krystle declared to Angus that she'd had enough. It was his house, but his life was only happy when hers was. So he sort of agreed. She grabbed my keys and her Trelaine and Angus went to grab 'her stuff. When she came back in, I was in the bathroom. I came out and checked my purse. The money was gone. They told me to get out. I refused to. All I had was that money! I wasn't leaving until I got it back. So the two girls physically threw me out, smashed my head against the ground and left me there. I went to my car, hoping there was enough gas to get home. And hoping my mom would see my state and believe they had robbed me so that I could come back home. I knew they spent it on dope too. So much for our pact to get clean.

Thankfully my mom did let me in and I never used again after that point. I went to rehab, I forgave them. I moved on. I even went as far as apologizing for my part in it. I ended up seeing Krystle at the methadone clinic a month ago. She was in rough, rough shape. I was terrified when I saw her (having not apologized yet). I thought she'd steal my carries (bring home methadone for those who test clean) or kick my ass. Or both. Fear  and panic pumped through my body until she finally got up and said hi. She hugged me. I was stunned but I went along with it. I told her I had nine months clean and asked how she'd been. 'Starting over..' she said. 

Seeing her there and like that brought such a mix of emotions to me. I thought I had moved on but it was clear that moment that I hadn't. I felt sad for her. I pitied her. I missed her. I hated her. I wanted to help her. I wanted her to relapse. I didn't know how I felt. But I knew one thing, I was so, so grateful that she had literally thrown me out like that. If she hadn't I'd probably be in the exact same spot. Or worse. 

I have mixed feelings about all of them. They range from missing them, to hoping they get clean, to wanting them dead. But on days when I'm not happy in my recovery, I think about them the most. I often could cry thinking about them. Worrying about them. Wondering if they'd take me back. I miss the fun. The craziness. The danger. I miss our bonds.

But then I realize, we may have been bonded in addiction, but we obviously are not bonded in recovery. So I have to let it go and move on. All I can do now is wish them the best and take care of myself. Because as much as I miss them, I don't miss the sickness, the worry, the fear, the betrayals, the stealing (which I was always only the driver for), the pain, the fights, or the sleepless nights I sat up afraid to close my eyes. 

They will always be apart of me and my story in some way, but they can't be in the future chapters. 

Much love, xx.

progress is impossible without change; and those who cannot change their minds, cannot change anything.

So I've recently been pretty active on Blogger. I've gained two new follows, which is exciting. I'd be excited if even only one person read this mess of words about the craziness of my addiction and bulimia. I was reading a post on my blog when I realized that the layout I had for years didn't include an option for people to follow me, which is shitty because perhaps more people would have, had they had the option too. So I spent sometime changing it up so that it won't happen in the past. I appreciate and adore anyone who takes the time to read this, so I want to make it easy for them to do so regularly.

So in that process, I decided my whole blog format needs an update. It got me thinking about change. At first I was so reluctant to change it at all. I didn't want to lose the appearance it has had since day one. I didn't want to lose my trademark "Am I thin enough?" picture with the girl in handcuffs symbolizing how chained I am to my addiction and bulimia. I didn't want to change any of it.

But then I realized, how can I improve and work towards recovery, when I'm keeping everything the same. On the blog and in real life. It's not productive to view the same format that I had made in the depth of my addiction and bulimia. It needed a change, a refreshed look that inspires change and progress in my writing and in my life.

It got me thinking about change in general. I always thought I did well with change, until I was face to face with it and couldn't handle it. For anyone new I'll give a bit of a recap of my life leading to my addiction in 2011.

• My grandma passed away early in the year.
• My 8 year old dog who I adored as family passed away soon after.
• In October of that year, I got the worst news of my life. My dad had died. 
• I resisted change, threw myself into school (my dad valued education) and tried to forget.
• When I couldn't forget, I started planning. Let's just say oxys were always around as, uhm, 'gifts' to people who had money. They sat in my drawer and called to me for weeks. So I slowly started collecting some, ranging from Percs to 80's. 
• One night in December, I snorted my first line of oxy. It was daily from then on.
• I then lost my great aunt, two bulldogs (one of whom was my baby, my son, and my life) When I lost him, something in me snapped.
• I kept it mostly together to care for my little boy bulldog Bam. I got out of bed for him, So when he was gone, I was again overwhelmed with sadness and obliterated the feelings with drugs.

So it's clear to me now that instead of changing, I numbed everything out until reality came down and knocked me off my feet last year. Then again, instead of changing and getting my life together, I ran. I got kicked out and ran to my addict friends. I lived in my car, on addicts and dealer's couches. I hopped from place to place with my bag of cleans and pills. I preferred this life over change.

It wasn't until I could absolutely no longer deal with it that I realized that something had to give. I needed to change or I would die alone homeless in my car as my junkie 'friends' robbed me blind and left my dead body. (They did do something like that, minus the body. Well, not minus one a different time. Great people, eh?). And so I did. I got on methadone, got sober and went to treatment. And now almost ten months later, here I am still sober and alive. And completely changed.

So although I still sometimes resist change, I now better understand the importance of it and catch myself when I'm becoming to stuck. I feel like once and a while my recovery needs small changes and refreshers to keep me going. Especially because recovery itself is all about change. I change who I am everyday on my search to learning who I truly am. So I have to update the small things to match the big change that goes on within me.

So now my blog is refreshed and ready to inspire my words, thoughts, and growth. So enjoy!

Much love, xx.

got a bunch of bad habits, and i wear 'em like a crown.

So just as I thought I was feeling better, a new wave of frustration hit me like a bus.

Firstly, some weird sketch bag was sexually harassing me via Twitter. So I blocked him and moved on. But it left a bad taste in my mouth. Like I'm the first to admit, I'm adventurous in bed, and am probably considered kinky to many. Plus, I'm bisexual, always have been, always will be. Though I've only ever been in relationships with guys. It's so frustrating that men assume that because I'm not straight or 'boring' in bed, that they can say stupid things to me acting like I'll sleep with them if they make a comment. I'm not a slut. I don't sleep around. I share that intimate part of me with a very select few. So although I'm fairly open about it, it doesn't mean I shout it to the world and share that knowledge and part of me with just anyone. Kinky does not equate promiscuity.

So right after that, my mom got a message on Facebook saying, "I need to talk to you right away". So of course I knew it'd be about me. Something I posted, something I said, lyrics I quoted, my recovery, etc. This for some reason struck a nerve, badly. It just enraged me. Partly because I instantly knew exactly what she'd bring up. There is a band called Down With Webster. They're Canadian and have a combination of rap and alternative rock. It's amazing.

One of their songs says, "Addicted to the lights and sounds. Got a bunch of bad habits and you wear em' like a crown. You're royalty around here baby, get down."

So I was listening to their music, and liked that particular line. Now back in my addiction it may have meant something completely different to me, in fact it did. I was proud of my addiction back then.  I thought I was bad ass, tough, cool shit. I wore my track marks like tattoos. But now, I take those lyrics in a much more positive way. There is this quote I love, that says something about a girl looking in the mirror after all the pain, scars, struggles and still is there and alive. So it says, "She straightened her crown, and walked away like a boss." That is how I now view these lyrics. To me it means I had all these habits, disorders, and now I have overcome them. I have no shame in them They are apart of me and my story. So of course I will wear my strength of my struggles like a crown. And my healed scars like a tattoo that shows all I've been through and have ended up on the other side of.

But of course, to this woman, she probably assumes I've done something or am slipping up and feels the need to tell my mom. I'm 23 years old. I'm an adult. You don't tell my mother on me, It's disrespectful. If you have something to say or are concerned, talk to me. 

This all goes back to that horrible pressure we feel to always be 'okay', to always have a smile on our faces because, god forbid, if we have a bad day, we're going to fall apart! This is so unrealistic and silly. Anyone who knows anything about this knows that if you don't have bad days, there's probably something wrong. It's normal to have ups and downs. And it's so fucking annoying that we all have to hide it and put on our happy masks just to reassure other people. We're trying to remove those masks. We're trying to be ourselves. So please, please, just let us do that! Let us frown when we need to, cry when we need to, scream, shout, yell when we need to. We need to feel all of our emotions authentically, not just the positive ones. Otherwise, we may as well be numbing them all again. Which isn't the goal. So I guess I'm just going to have to be myself and try to ignore when people react like that. It's the only way they'll learn that all feelings are okay feelings. And bad days happen. Recovery isn't easy and never will be.

So keep shining everyone. Don't let people's ignorance stop you from being you.

Much love, xx.

guilt can stop us from taking healthy care of ourselves.

Guilt: 1. The fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, especially against moral or penal law; culpability: He admitted his guilt.
 2. A feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.

Such a common word with so many meanings, situations, causes, feelings. Guilt in itself is a feeling, but I find it more of a primary emotion, one that evokes a secondary emotion depending on the situation. There's guilt over actions, guilt over thoughts, words, emotions. There's self-guilt, guilt regarding others. Inflicting guilt to manipulate someone into doing something. Real guilt, imagined guilt. Guilt, guilt, guilt.

Eating disorders and addiction are mental illnesses that are just completely loaded with guilt. Guilt over using, guilt over stealing, guilt over not caring about a thing in the world but whatever substance that makes it all go away. It even takes the guilt away for a short, blissful moment. Then there's guilt over eating, guilt over purging, guilt over gaining, guilt over your body, guilt over hurting others. See what I mean? There's no shortage of guilt over here.

In treatment for my opiate addiction, we sort of dealt with the past and guilt we had over our actions and stuff from when we were using. But it's so hard to completely let go of the past. As much as a try not to beat myself up over what I've done, I can't. The things I've done stilll haunt my mind and my life. And I think sometimes it's not my own issues with it, it is others'. For example, when I stole money from my family, I have sort of forgiven myself, but I know they still haven't. I mean to some degree I've been somewhat forgiven, but not totally. And I feel like until they have forgiven me, I don't know if I can forgive myself. Because many days are just a constant reminder of what I've done.

And so often when I'm consumed with guilt, I hid myself away. My self-care that is so important to my health (emotional and phsyical) goes out the window. I'm too ashamed of myself to do anything. I'm too ashamed of myself to believe that I deserve any kind of care or niceness at all. I did horrible things that I can never take back, and I should be punished for it. By myself and others. Now of course this isn't true, but there are days when forgiveness seems far and few between and I take it out on myself. Through isolation, purging, binging, negative self-talk, etc.

Some days this guilt effects my self-care in much more subtle ways. Often in the form of neglect or denial. For example, I knew that smoking dope, crack, etc and purging many times a day for years and years wasn't good for my teeth. I knew this, yet I avoided the dentist like it was the plague. So after getting sober, I refused to think that this was an issue. Until one of my wisdom teeth became so decayed and rotted that it was causing pain. But even then, my guilt got the best of me. I was too guilty to go in case they saw through me and accused me of being bulimic or an addict. My dentist is family, but I have kept these secrets from most of my family. I fear their judgement too much. And I'm sure they won't be that bad, but it's my own (you guessed it) guilt and shame that keeps me from telling them. And it's the same with my teeth. I waited until I couldn't wait any longer and now I'm paying the price. My tooth must come out, along with a few fillings. It will be painful. But it could have been avoided had I taken better care of myself over the years.

So I think I've finally learned my lesson. I need to find a way to accept my past and to let it go. I need to talk to those I've hurt and make amends and tell them that forgiveness is the only way I can truly move forward. And then I need to forgive myself, however I can. Plus, I need to acknowledge that much of my guilt is imagined or exaggerated. I need to be more compassionate and understanding of myself and to focus on the good I've done since.

I will not let guilt affect my well-being anymore. I will be all about seeking forgiveness.

Forgiveness: a conscious, deliberate decision to release feelings of resentment or vengeance toward a person or group who has harmed you, regardless of whether they actually deserve your forgiveness.

Much love, xx.

P.S. There are many healthy benefits that I have learned about regarding forgiveness while researching it for this post (yes, I do my research first, such I nerd, I know). There's a list here at: http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/topic/forgiveness/definition  Check it out!