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.

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.

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.

defeat your enemies with your success.

So in recent posts I've mentioned those key players in my life last year. You know, the ones who took me in when I was homeless. The ones that taught me how to shoot up, the ones who stuck needles in my neck. The ones I considered my using family.

I haven't been able to keep them in my life, no matter how much I may miss them. As I've said before, we were bonded in our addictions, but not bonded in recovery. So in order to protect myself, I had to let them go. The best thing they did for me was kick my ass and leave me broken on the side of the road. Had they not  hurt me in that way, I'd still be out there using. Or more likely, dead in a ditch somewhere in this grim border city.

I was at the methadone clinic to see my addictions doctor. I ended up running into not just one, but three people I knew. One of them was my ex's mom. I had been told by him that she hated me. I was accused of stealing stuff from her car (which I swear on my dad's grave I didn't). So when she called me over and started talking to me I was so incredibly relieved. She even hugged me and invited me to come over at anytime to see her. I agreed. When she left, I sat down and almost had a complete breakdown. It just brought so many emotions to the surface. She used to consider me her daughter in law, that's how serious this relationship had been. We weren't married and didn't really want to be, but it was this love that you only get one time. So I just didn't know how to feel. I missed him, I missed her. I was happy to see her, but sad that she was in the same position as before. I was happy she was getting sober, but saddened that she had to work a minimum wage job now that his dad has passed away. I managed to keep it together, but just barely.

Just as I was calming down, Trelaine, that slut-faced bitch that slammed my head into the ground walks in. I was just overwhelmed with anger and fear. I didn't know what she would do to me if she recognized me. Lucky for me, I don't think she really did. But just as I thought she had left, Dan, the guy I had been sort of seeing strolls in too. He walked passed me so many times and didn't even look at me! I know there's absolutely no way he wouldn't recognize me unless he was so rocked out of his mind that he didn't recognize anyone. But then it got worse. Trelaine came back and started talking to him. Last summer they barely knew each other, but that had clearly changed.

Finally, as I was  waiting for my meds, Dan stood directly beside me. I didn't say a word. As much as I wanted to ream him out, I also didn't need the drama. He's such a scumbag to me that I couldn't even be bothered. I'd have defended myself if I needed to, but I wasn't going to start anything. It's just not me, But then I felt her behind me and suddenly she was laughing. He turned as asked what was so funny, and then finally his eyes fell onto me slightly. That's when I knew...they were laughing at me.

I left as soon as I had my script in my hands and just got the hell out of there. I was such an emotional wreck. Angered at them, pitying them, missing them, hating them, etc. I was so upset that they laughed at me. I did nothing to them. In fact, I drove them around for months and shared dope with them! I even slept with that douche bag. Which is the only regret I have sexually. I don't regret anything like that, except him. It was the biggest mistake of my life.

But then I got home and was telling my mom about it. Suddenly. as I was telling her I had this huge realization. Why should I care if they were laughing at me?! In all reality, if I was a bad person, it would be me laughing at them. They're the ones still out there using, hustling, lying, hurting and struggling every single day. And although my life isn't close to perfect, I have way more than they do. So since I'm not the horrible person they may think I am, I can't laugh at them. It's just not my nature. I no longer care that they laughed or if they like me or not. And I wouldn't ever wish ill on them.

This has just been such a lesson in gratitude. It took them being hurtful towards me for me to realize that in terms of things to be happy and grateful for, I have an abundance when they have none. So I will continue on with my own life, wishing well for them, but not caring so much about the things they may or may not do to me.

dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever.

Today is Father's Day.

Ever since my dad passed away in 2011, I have spent these days alone. My dad was never a big gift guy, but I know he appreciated knowing we loved him. I never told my dad that I loved him nearly enough. I regret that I didn't tell him every single day.  Because now I don't have the option of hugging his big belly and holding on forever.

I miss my dad so much it hurts. This is my first sober Father's Day, so maybe I'm feeling overly emotional because I don't have anything to numb the pain. I had the option of going to my cousins to have dinner with my aunt (his sister) and uncle, cousins and their kids. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Some of it was eating disorder related. I had such panic about eating in front of them now that they know I have bulimia. But I think a bigger part of it was I couldn't bear to watch them celebrate this day with smiles. My cousin is double my age and still has his father. I know that shouldn't bother me. But it does. It makes me so incredibly angry and jealous. Why should he get his dad when me and my younger brother lost ours so young? It's not fair. And I don't think I could have hidden my resentment today. So I didn't go.

Instead I'm sitting here alone wishing I could get high. It doesn't help that the only person I really have to talk to is drunk. It's not easy to be around people who are intoxicated when all you want is to obliterate your feelings and sink into that  magical place between reality and dreamland. I would spend all day hanging in the middle, suspended on a cozy web of bliss, peace, and safety. Stuck in the place where nothing matters but the drugs pumping through your veins with each beat of your slowed, relaxed heart. So I'm angry and not speaking to her now.

I wish I could say that I want to get over it and be happy. I wish I could say I think my dad would be proud of how far I've come. But I feel like those would be lies. Today I don't feel like changing my negative thoughts or trying to be positive person in recovery. Today I just feel like sitting alone wishing my dad was here. And there's nothing in the world that can change that.

I love you dad. I miss you like crazy. Happy Father's Day. You will always be my king, my heart, my dad.

she can never go back and make some of the details pretty, all she can do is make the whole beautiful.

So in case you haven't heard, I've got some issues. I've got scars, scabs, bullet holes, stab wounds, puncture marks, track marks, a broken smile and a gaping black hole of pain. So no, I'm not perfect. Never was, never will be. But you know what? I don't give a flying high fuck.

So you want to know why? Probably not, but I'll tell you anyway.

 I realized, that me, and only me, should be at the top. I may still be climbing my way up from the underground, but don't you worry or doubt me. Cause I'll fucking make it up there. I'll be so high up there that every bitch, ex, loser, and scumbag that ever crossed me will be scared. And those who wrote me off, well, they'll be begging to be my friend. Good, let them beg. But they'll be begging for a lifetime because to me, loyalty, honestly, dedication and real love is key for me. If you didn't have it when I was at my lowest, you won't have it when I'm at the top. Sure, they'll pretend, but it's too late. I've already seen their true, ugly colours. And those who did have my back? The ones that were there for me when I was completely broken, ugly, damaged. Well I know they'll still be in my life, because they deserve to be.

Now, before you think I'm ranting and raving for no reason other than the fact that I'm into myself (haaa, yeah right, have you met anyone with bulimia who loves themselves?), let me tell you how I came to the above realization:

So you all know my ex. The love of my life, turned friend. If a friend is what you want to call it. He has a new "girlfriend" named Tiffany. Cheesy, skank-ass name. So after months of being terrified to check all social media, I finally grew the balls to check. I was so worried that I'd have a mean message from him, or worse, no messages at all. But there were some. They told me that he still loved me, that he hadn't loved anyone else since, and that he wasn't single, but that things were complicated. Anyway, long story short, we decided we'd talk, maybe be friends. Fast forward a bit, bitchany finds out that we're talking and decides to send me a message, demanding I no longer contact him. I didn't reply, why would I give her the satisfaction? But upon reviewing her message, I decided, "Wow, he could have done sooo much better." And I mean, no offence to this girl, it's not her fault she looks like a horse and acts like she's six. Well, sort of. The least he could have done was show some respect and throw a dime piece in my face. Then I'd understand. Then it got me thinking, why was I so upset? She's a downgrade, and he left me when I needed him most. I should only care about the people who have been there from the start, from the bottom, up. 

So I may be being a little nasty, and I may seem arrogant. But I see it differently. I see that they've been nailing it in my head at rehab, at every meeting, at every group that I am worth it, and maybe for the first time, I finally believe it. I finally realize that I am worth every bit of recovery, respect, love, understanding, compassion, etc. And after all the hard work I've accomplished getting and staying sober, I deserve to have a day  and a blog post where I rant in about how awesome I am.

Fuck, I deserve more than just a day. But I guess for tomorrow, I'll try to tone it down a bit. Maybe.

And even though I can't go back in time and fix everything and make it all pretty, I can move forward, learn to love myself and know that my whole is still beautiful. Imperfections and all.

drugs don't really fix anything, except for everything

so it's been several months since I've posted anything. my boyfriend found my blog and didn't know about the addiction he basically caused. but I can't blame him, it was me who snorted that sweet delicious oxy up my nose. it was me who decided smoking it was even better. now all I crave is a fat line and some tin foil, a lighter and an 80.

I know it's not 'right' to be an addict, but fuck it. I've been through so fucking much the past few years I deserve to get high and let the pain killers numb my sorrow.

want a recap? first my grandma died, then my dog of 8 years, then my dad. I thought that I had my fair share of death in one year. remember my post about "bring it on 2012'? but nope. then my sweet bulldog Callie died, followed by my two older brother's dad. and suddenly out of no where my own other bulldog who  was sweet, amazing, and so, so cute passed away suddenly from heart disease. my little man was the only good fucking thing left in my life.

what the fuck have I done to be filled with so much death?

a three year old bulldog who did nothing but bring light into everyone's life didn't deserve to go. nobody I loved did. thank god I've never believed in god, because if there was one he wouldn't make someone hurt so much.

so fuck it, I guess I'm meant to suffer.

the only time I get some release is when I'm high, purging or drunk. so much for recovery.

I'm wasted now and all I want is some sort of release.

I'd be better off dead...at least I'd see my little man Bam again. And my dad and everyone else life has taken from me.