Nineteen, Again And Counting, Again
nineteen, again and counting, again
Things are okay today, almost. Everyday has it’s enemies. Sitting, waiting for the opportunity to take everything you’ve worked for, whatever that may be. More or less, it doesn’t matter because you worked for it. The miracle of this new lifestyle is I can choose not to play in the shadows with my enemies. I’ve been testing this new theory that if you come out of your room every once in a while, you meet new people. I’ve been trying not to be so shy. I find myself feeling stupid more often than not but, I also find myself laughing more than I have in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, it’s worth the trade off. I know if nothing else I need to learn to be comfortable with who I am and what I say, how I feel and how I look. I need to learn what is appropriate to be said as well, though. Doped up anything you say or do feels like flying so much so that you don’t give shit about those below you. All of a sudden, I care what people think, how I make people feel, what’s right, and what’s wrong. The beginning of this journey, you know “to recovery”, is going to hurt like hell, if I do it right. I have to let go and trust that through the pain I’ll unleash working the steps will come true serenity. I want peace, for the first time in my life. I want to be okay with being alone while at the same time being sure that’s not the only thing I do. Having fun with people in recovery but still keeping in mind that the 13th step will always be in the rooms. It doesn’t matter how sweet he’s talking, how great of a listener he is, or how many secrets he tells you. He’s still a candidate, whether he knows it or not. And of course that doesn’t mean they’re all like that. It just means its best to keep your shirt on, at least until, well actually I don’t know. I just have to be careful, at all costs. I need to focus on me. I need to attend more meetings. I need a job! And I need to let go of the resentment I’ve gained against the directors here. Whether or not it’s right doesn’t matter because they’re only trying to help me stay clean. And clearly, I can’t do that very successfully on my own. My boyfriend, or lack there of, is becoming more and more complicated. He wants sex and hell, so do I but I am in a halfway house! I say that so many time I could type it in my sleep. It’s like he forgets and all of a sudden thinks I’m refusing to see him. There is a side of it that is my fault. It takes me a little while to warm up to him when we hang out. I’m not sure why, mostly because I’m completely sober, but also perhaps it’s because I am far from comfortable with my body. He mentioned the other night hoe much better I look than I did when I was strung out, under weight, and so fucking lifeless looking. I have a hard time accepting that I might look better then than I do now but I’m trying to work on myself physically/mentally while remaining content with who I am at the same time. Regardless, I love him so much. And I’ll let you know if that ever changes. He got me this beautiful necklace for Valentine’s Day. We’re going to be okay. That’s it, for now.
More Posts from Maggieruthless-blog and Others
dry
I’ve been writing in my journal lately. I find it healthy, however, I find it necessary to also keep my tumblr updated. With that said, my life is one casualty after another. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration. Allow me to explain. I have yet to move back home, just stalling really. I know that when I get moved back in nothing will have changed. I’ll be put in the middle of my parents marriage. I’ll be required to do everything around the house because apparently, my sister is too sensitive to be upset at all. The lady is still in my life. My hands are dry and I want a cigarette.
*others
precipitation
It’s 1:41 am and it’s raining outside. No one will ever know what the sound of rain drops hitting the ground means to me, but I’ll try to explain. When I was on heroin, I drove a beat up Toyota with no drivers side window. Every morning I’d wake up hoping it was dry outside. Regardless of the weather, rain, sleet, or snow, I’d still have to drive downtown to cop. Otherwise, I’d be miserably dope sick, unable to get out of bed. Back then, I didn’t watch the news because regardless of what that weather man said, I still had to go out and drive in it. Today, however, is different. Today I can watch the news, see that a storm is coming and plan ahead. Today I have a choice as to whether or not I drive in the current conditions. Hearing the rain tap the asfalt over and over again reminds me that I have a choice. It reminds me that I don’t ever have to use again. It reminds me that I made bad choices, but I’m not a bad person. It reminds me to help overs in this journey of recovery. It reminds me I lived through many things I shouldn’t have. It reminds me that I’m a miracle. It reminds me that we do recover.
“It’s not always necessary to be strong, but to feel strong.”
— Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild (via wnq-quotes)
stay, good girl.
I hate her so much. Yet, she’s my “best friend”. Best friends do not do what she did to me. Best friends don’t treat eachother like I treat her. But then again, nothing in my life ever goes as planned.
School tomorrow, then work. I like to keep busy. Idle time is the devil’s candyshop. Or something like that.
Brandon, my boyfriend, has been acting different. Well, come to think of it, maybe I’m the only one acting different. Having people constantly remind me that him and I don’t go together makes it hard to remain stable in the relationship. They say he’s controlling and doesn’t respect who I am. What do they know, right?
I cut myself shaving earlier. It felt great.
Let’s hope I can stay in my bed tonight.
check in
I haven’t said very much, lately. I’ve been writing a lot more. Tonight I went to the carnival, threw up on one of the rides, and had the time of my life. Last night, I played volleyball then a friend rented a bicycle downtown and had me sit in the basket as we rode through the park. Everything is going to be okay. Jess and I aren’t together. Some days are great and some days hurt like hell. I’m still staying clean. I’m still in the halfway house. I’m gaining my parents trust back. I’m working. I’m smiling. I’m not giving up.
*mistreated
Do you ever think about me?
Sometimes, I wonder if those who I made my world ever think of me. I think of them. It’s like anyone I ever thought I loved left a scar on my heart. I thought of it as somewhat of a curse at first but I’m pretty good at taking the bad and making it good or at least tolerable. I’ll try to start from the beginning. The first gift a boyfriend ever gave me was a necklace, and I was in elementary school. It had a single grain of rice inside it with my name written on it. Zack gave it to me. Anytime I see someone with extremely small handwriting, I tell them about that necklace. The first boy I kissed was called Matt. We kissed behind a couch. I was twelve. It was an older couch that folded out into a bed. I still think of him, and that night, when I come across a couch like that. Later that year, Matt’s bestfriend, Aaron, fingered me. It was the first time a boy touched me there and I hated it. He had longer hair and acne. Although it was eleven years ago, that hair cut is still popular. When I see boys with their hair styled that way, I am reminded that it is okay to say no. Dakota was the first boy to break my heart. My father was painting my room on the day he broke up with me, so I had to go cry in my sister’s room. The smell of paint reminds me that selfish boys don’t deserve my tears. Austin told me that he’d kill himself if I broke up with. I stayed with him two weeks longer than I wanted to. He’s popped into my mind during every break up I’ve expereinced. I lost my virginity when I was thirteen to a boy name Brandon. I wasn’t ready, but I didn’t want to disappoint him. John Mayer was his favorite artist. That was ten years ago, and I still won’t listen to Mayer’s music. When I was 17, Anthony convinced me to leave my boyfriend to be his girl. He broke up with me a month later. He had a golden retriver and seeing those dogs still reminds me that I should always go with my gut. Destiny was the first and only girl I ever fell in love with. She betrayed me. That was six years ago, and there’s not much that doesn’t make me think of her. I was the first girl Mitchell ever brought home to meet his family. Ever since then, anytime I meet a boyfriend’s family I am reminded how important first impressions are. I thought the relationship I had with Josh was healthy. I bought him a rosary for his birthday. After four months he took off to California with my debit card, and I haven’t seen him since. Men who wear rosaries remind me not to give my pin number out to anyone. Jeffrey broke my heart faster than anyone I’ve ever been with. He had somewhat of a receding hair line. When I see men who seem to be balding, I am reminded that sex is not the same thing as love. The most unhealthy relationship I’ve ever been in lasted two years. His name was Jess and I made him my god. He lived my life for me, and I loved it. When faced with a difficult decision, I am grateful that I am finally capable to think for myself. There are many other men I’ve crossed paths with in my twenty three years alive. Today I am grateful for the good, the bad, and the ugly. You hurt me. You made me believe my life would be nothing without you. Thank you. If it hadn’t been for all the people that mnistreated me in my life, I wouldn’t know what it means to really be loved. I’m sure I have many more hard lessons to learn but just for today, I am grateful for the scars you left beacuse they make me who I am today.
“I’m not the person you left behind anymore. There’s no one here to miss.”
— Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
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I’ve lost access to both my original blogs. I’m using this one to save some of those memories.
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