deposit happiness into your day, instead of withdrawing sadness.

I don't know what happened, but sometime between my last post and today, I realized I wasn't a total wreck anymore. Maybe it's because I've been busy, or because things with me and Ryan have been  going really well. I don't know. Either way, I feel...okay. which may seem bad in comparison to happy, but for me, okay is good. It's a first step at least.

I'm still sober in terms of pills. Although not entirely sober if you count weed. Okay and maybe coke one time. But it was only one time, and I have absolutely no urge to do either again. I know it sounds like a cop out, but if that will keep me oxy free, then I'll take it. Also, I've been in such a good mood that my weight hasn't yo-yo'd and I haven't been binging or purging nearly as much as I was.
It's funny, one day you're basically a depressed, anxious, crack whore (not exactly, just making a point), bulimic going through withdrawal and getting clean all while feeling so bad you want to give up on life all together, and then without even realizing it, you somehow transition into just okay. I don't know when or where it happened, but I'm glad it did.

I still miss drugs, it's hard not to. It's like everything was enhanced and now I'm back to normal life, which will obviously seem boring in comparison. But in comparison to directly after they were out of my life, and in comparison with before, I'm doing much better. And if I stay clean, it's only up from here. Right?

Maybe all this time I was just to busy focusing on the sad parts of my life to really realize the happy parts.

a father should be his son's first hero, and his daughter's first love.

Today was Father's Day. Well technically yesterday, but until I fall asleep (if I do at all), it's still today.

My younger brother and I went to brunch with my dad's side of the family. My mom was still out of town visiting one of my older brothers. Everyone around kept saying happy father's day to us in general and to the dads there specifically. I found it hurtful and insulting that they kept throwing this around so lightly with no regard to me and my brother.

Because "'Happy' Father's Day" is only happy when you still have your dad.

It's our first Father's Day without him, and I miss him more than anything in the world. It just makes me sad to think about how disappointed he'd be in me if he could see how my life has gone downhill since he passed away. And I'm in no way blaming my problems on him dying. It was my personal decision and weakness at a time of vulnerability that led me down this path. At least he would be somewhat glad that I'm off them, but he'd still be ashamed of me for starting in the first place.

Anyway, so along with people not seeming to know me and my brother might be a bit sad, I was also having major anxiety. Obviously because of the fact that any food setting is automatically a trigger for me (especially when there's no vegetarian options, except for waffles with sugary fruit and whipped cream), and my social anxiety seemed to be extremely high (probably because I wasn't high in a social setting for the first time since my dad died). My heart felt like it would explode, my breathing was rapid and shallow, and I couldn't stop shaking. Nobody even seemed to notice. I finally couldn't take it anymore, so I did the only thing I could do-grabbed my ipod and blasted some Mariana's Trench (Josh Ramsay is the love of my life), which is super close to my heart because of the drug/ED based songs. Funny though, how as soon as I had one of their songs on, my aunt decides to scold me like I was a five year old, telling me to "Take those out of your ears and get over here." Lovely.

Moving on, as soon as we got home later, there was a voicemail on our phone. Someone letting us know they are thinking about us today and hoping we're okay. My heart rate spiked, along with my anger and sadness. Music wasn't going to be enough this time, my belly felt too full, I felt like I was 600lbs, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. After I purged my soul away, I sat down and cried, wishing I had oxy, or Xanax, or something . Anything to numb what I was feeling- depressed, lonely, angry, disgusted, to name a few.

Now I know it seems like I've contradicted myself, saying I was mad nobody said anything about my dad at brunch, and then being mad when someone did. The thing is, there is no right way to handle this. Anything said or done will bring back the sadness and memories and it will hurt either way. Plus I've been on edge the last week and a bit. I managed to get a bit of sleep, but only after my boyfriend and I got into an argument. I was overtired and bitchy, he was drunk, and Jenna (my ED/addict alter ego) was jealous that he was under some form of intoxication and I had nothing. I felt emotionally drained and finally crashed for a few hours, only to wake up and have to deal with all this bullshit.

The only real upside to all of this is that my body finally stopped totally hating me. I finally felt little to no pain today. Even using I still felt pains (if I crashed or went without oxy for more than a few hours I'd wake/end up dope sick). I'm hoping that since I can finally sit still without pain and if I can stay relaxed and calm I'll be able to get some sleep tonight. And more that four hours.

Well, I've rambled on about nothing for long enough. Time to shut my eyes and hope for escape.

Oh, and Dad, I miss you and love you. Happy Father's Day.

when it becomes really impossible to get away and sleep, then the will to live evaporates of its own accord.

Ugh. I'm dying.

I can't sleep no matter how hard I try (or don't try in case I'm just thinking too much). I'm so exhausted. There's literally nothing left in my body. Nothing good anyways. Whether it's the fact that my nights and days were fueled by drugs and sleep crashing was the result (and now without them I've got no energy and nothing to knock me out), or because I can't keep my anxiety in check, or because I'm still pretty sore and restless from coming off these things, I don't know. But it's horrible and I just want to curl up in bed and sleep for the rest of my life.

If I don't get some sleep soon, I think I'll snap.

And whether it's drug fueled rage or just simply anger fueled rage, me snapping is never a good thing.

For anyone.

a lack of clarity could put the brakes on any journey to success.

Apparently so.

I haven't been on here in who knows how long (nothing new there), and to be honest I've been kind of scared to come and check on everything. I was afraid that there would be tons of views and everyone would see how much of a failure I really am. I was afraid I'd discourage someone from trying.

Anyways, I logged on here and found a few new great blogs to read. I was avoiding seeing mine. And holy fuck was I right to be afraid. I read my last post and was absolutely disgusted with myself. I don't know if it's because there's no oxy clouding my mind or if I had just temporarily lost my fucking mind all together. Probably both. But anyways, I apologize to anyone if my swearing offended them (but I do have a filthy mouth, so it won't stop all together, sorry) and I apologize for my absurd crudeness, it was a bit out of line. I considered deleting it, but it's apart of my journey and life story, so it should stay. I was feeling like that at the time and just because I'm not now doesn't make it disappear from my life. I don't want to hide anything.

It's funny though, here I was thinking the drugs were making my brain think more clearly. They definitely helped me get through my classes during school. And now I come on here without them clouding my judgement, and I find that I was definitely out of my mind unclear. Whatever, that's what drugs do to you I guess. Make everything all blurry, so blurry in fact, that you think you have absolute clarity.

Now, finally I can get to the goodish news. I am off oxy (kind of?) I never thought I'd be saying this in a million years. I'm not taking credit though, because it wasn't my own will, I just literally had none left and couldn't get more. And trust me, I tried. When I got down to my last two, I woke up and realized I better start weaning off them or I'll be fucked. I spent the next few days after that hurting. It's weird, I've never had any pain in my life, other than very minor things, but the withdrawal symptoms made me feel like I was dying. It hurt so badly I wanted to kill myself, but it hurt to much to get up and do it. And worst of all was the RLS. It's just so irritating because I couldn't stay still and it's frustrating. Plus having to move to cope with it hurt pretty bad. And sleep? Wasn't going to happen, even though I was exhausted in every possible way. Anyways, I started to panic though, because I was still on the oxy's, just cutting back, but I was going through it way faster than I thought and I was still hurting badly even cutting down slightly each day. I was doing three 80's a day at least and cut back to about 3/4-1/2 of that. I was still doing too much and I didn't have enough to last. That's when I got the best news, and I suddenly had a large amount of percocet (which has 5mgs of oxycodone in it). This made it much easier because I wasn't afraid of running out, and the small amounts helped me cut back more easily than with a 80mg oxy (have you ever tried to split one into 8 pieces or more?). I just took enough to keep the withdrawal symptoms at bay. This was about a week ago, and I'm down to my last half of one, which I will save for tomorrow in case I need it (the pain's still there slightly because I technically haven't got the shit totally out of my system). But I'd rather take this slow and do it so I'm not wishing to die every second of my life. I might have prolonged this shitty stage, but I don't know if that's good or bad? Part of me wishes I were over it and able to go without hurting for a day, but part of me is glad I didn't because it would have been shorter, but much more excruciating. So, as of tomorrow, I will be completely oxy free. I'm kind of happy, but I'm also kind of sad, and even more sad that I'm not more happy about getting sober.

It's just that I didn't expect to miss it this much. I thought that once my body stopped needing it, everything would be fine. But once the need is gone, there's still the want. I just never expected I'd want it so badly. I never expected to feel this insatiable urge to feel the slight burning in my nose, to taste the medicinal taste dripping down my throat. I don't understand what's wrong with me. I should be happy, thankful that I had to do this for myself. But all I am is sad. My anxiety is threw the roof, depression's in full swing. And every fiber in my body is telling me that the answer is snorting more oxy. But I can't do that, so I turn to Jenna, my bulimic alter ego for answers. And yeah the binge purge cycle feels good at first, like my emptiness has been filled and the calories are gone, but then it's all guilt and shame and bullshit. But for some reason if I can't have drugs then stuffing myself and puking it out must be the answer. Cute. Thanks a lot Jenna.

And who am I kidding, if one fell into my hands tomorrow, it'd be crushed up and threw a straw into my nose in seconds. The only reason I "beat" this thing is because I had to.

My life is a fucking train wreck and I have nobody to turn to. How am I supposed to get threw all of this? It's not just one problem, it's tons of problems and they're all feeding into each other making all of them even stronger and worse than before.

I don't know what to do. Which is why I'm having a few drinks and writing this. At least it takes the edge off and makes me feel less alone.

Haaah. And I can't even think of something witty and clever to end with. Pathetic.