pocketmindfulness.com gets me

When life gets me to my breaking point and my sanity is endangered I frantically type in my favorite website/blog url and wait impatiently for it to speedily load so I can click the newest article and every time I have done so it is exactly what I need to hear. It is as though the author has written it just for me knowing just what I need to hear to calm the storms of overthinking and swirling of bad ideas that I’ve concocted and often am set on pursuing right up until that one brave intelligent brain cell pipes up to remind me that I should always check into pocketmindfulness.com before going completely off the deep end as it has worked wonders since I found the site almost two years ago.

It is still a mystery how I came to have the blog appear on my screen by no doing of my own as I was having a nervous breakdown when my laptop was being accessed remotely and I didn’t know how to make it stop or who would be doing so (they did nothing nefarious to my computer and to the best of my knowledge didn’t take anything that I have missed or has been used without my consent I just lost control of my cursor and when I regained control this site was open on my browser and I’ve been hooked ever since *no affiliation between the site owner and the remote accessing fyi*) but I am forever grateful that it did.

The following is the beginning of the article that brought me back from the brink of sanity and showing my ass in following through with the bonkers plans I was making a couple days ago…

I specifically don’t post the entire article so you can navigate over to the author’s post and give him the credit he’s due and traffic to his site which is ad/popup free and has a lot more great posts and information I guarantee will help you if you are looking for a more mindful existence.

Pocket Mindfulness

Be here.

A Simple Tip for Success – Don’t Fall Into Story

People say there are no shortcuts to success, and I think that’s largely true.

Hard work combined with a little bit of good luck along the way is probably the closest recipe.

That said, one thing I’ve learned about success in any endeavor is that negativity will greatly reduce your chances of reward.

I’m not saying that positive thinking will bring you success; nothing will happen without action.

But what I can say with absolute certainty is that being negative and focusing on past bad experiences does not bring anything positive to your life.

Of course, that can be quite difficult to do, particularly if you have been traumatized by a bad experience.

In this case, I would encourage you to seek help, be that through counseling or therapy, or through methods such as meditationself-hypnosis, or by reading about the experiences of others who have been through similar.

The fact remains, though, like violence breeds violence, negativity breeds negativity.

success-tips

Don’t Fall Into Story

I once heard a really good tip for success from Tim Ferris, author of the 4-Hour Workweek. I think it was in a podcast interview where he said the worst thing you can do is to “fall into story”.

By the way, it’s an amazing book for those looking to work less and have more time for the fun things in life. + See it here on Amazon.

This is one of those lines that has stuck with me for many years and, whenever I catch myself doing just that, I say that line out loud to snap myself out of it.

I even have a Post-It note on my wall that says “don’t fall into story”

Falling into story refers to that frame of mind you slip into when things aren’t going your way, or when you feel overwhelmed or in a bad mood, or you just feel like you’re not making progress – despite how much effort you’re putting it.

So you revert to saying things like:

….Keep reading by clicking here it’ll take you to the article posted by the author on his blog at pocketmindfulness.com

🆃🅷🅾🆄🅶🅷🆃🅵🆄🅻 🆁🅰🅼🅱🅻🅸🅽🅶🆂

reigning abuse

What would you do if you found out the man you were falling in love with was cheating on you?

Now say you’ve got ample proof and he goes and gets a restraining order AND calls a bogus DV call against you when he was the one roughing you up?

When that fails to get him what he wants what happens when he commits you to the funny farm against your will and has been tediously setting up the scene for your imminent “need” of a seventy-two hour hold?

Now what would you do if he’d already aligned himself with the people already doing their own little twisting of the truth to take from you the only thing important in your life – your children – to make a point and control you?

Well bravo I already sound paranoid and a bit nutty don’t I? You wouldn’t believe me for a minute, would you? Aww, don’t worry neither would I.

But believe it or not I thought I was schizophrenic and bipolar like the good kind doctors who medicated me so heavily I couldn’t function enough to stay awake and see my kids for a few hours straight told me I was, diagnosed me even as such, and committed me to a psych ward for 30 days because … well I don’t know because I was fine at the hospital and completely lucid upon arrival at the good ol’ funny farm… I’d gotten high after my first sober experience to crazy town and my dad happened to come by my place when the warden was off on an impromptu trip to “visit family” <or maybe his other family at this point I wouldn’t put it past him> in another state and he didn’t like how I was acting at the restaurant so he took me to the hospital. I don’t blame him I was on uppers from the street and downers from the drug dealer with the phd. so I was not my best of selves. And he’d had Sir Gas-Lighter extraordinaire in his ear for a few months at that point after bringing me back home following the jail stintS he had put me in for making sure that the no contact order would carry over for a while and give him that extra bit of control over me in “our” home when he brought me back all the while making sure to just barely fill in my one remaining ally that was my father so that he knew just enough to not worry too much and to feel dude was taking amazing care and time and attention in my health and well being.



LET ME BE CLEAR: WOMEN CAN AND DO ABUSE MEN IN MANY INSTANCES A MAN SHOULD CALL THE POLICE IF HE IS BEING ABUSED AND VERY FEW MEN DO BECAUSE IT ISN’T THE MANLIEST THING TO DO BUT WOMEN CAN BE VISCOUS AND HURTFUL PHYSICALLY TO A MAN ESPECIALLY WHEN ENRAGED WITH A BIT OF INTOXICATION TO BOLSTER THEIR RIGHTEOUSNESS. PLUS IF A MAN DEFENDS HIMSELF AGAINST A PHYSICALLY VIOLENT WOMAN HE IS LIKELY TO WIND UP GOING TO JAIL SHOULD THE POLICE BE CALLED SO CALLING THE POLICE AND SHUTTING THAT SHIT DOWN WITHOUT WINDING UP BEHIND BARS IS HIS BEST BET FOR SELF PRESERVATION AND SOMETIMES GENUINELY NEEDED FOR HIS SAFETY.


HOWEVER IN THIS CASE:
My guy had repeatedly choked me up against the wall when he was infuriated with me with no provocation of any physical nature on my part (yes I was likely running my mouth on one or two of these occasions but just because I’m a better debater than he is *which he recently admitted as to part of his reasoning for violence being to shut me up* but on one I vividly remember it was because he thought I was going through his stuff and I not only wasn’t I but turns out he had a females number in his pocket and so his ass was on high alert and he woke up tripping because I was sitting on the floor) and the day he called the police on me he had had a hotel receipt in his pocket and was walking around the apartment with it hanging out all obvious and such and when I snatched it as I walked by to take a look he didn’t grab it back (I’m 5’nada and 110lbs soaking wet so that would have been the easy choice for a man who out weighs and is taller than me) he tackled me and wrestled me for it (I’m a genius who when someone is trying to take something from me even if I don’t care if they have it *usually he does this with my phone which I couldn’t care less what he sees cause there is nothing to see besides me snooping his shit which I am pretty open about* I fight to keep it as though it is the last golden ticket and I’m a chocolate fiend. I don’t now but I did for a long while. Now I just let him have whatever he’s grabbing for, I am not a fan of physical pain (or emotional pain for that matter <derp de derp yes some people are and I used to be kind of>) and after the hellacious last few years I’ve had I abhor fear and being grossed out. So that wrestling match ended with me very very tired and him triumphant although I’d seen the damn receipt without proof he would deny it all the way to the .. . next motel? So we decided to go to our frequent hot spot the casino where he would disappear for hours at a time and act like he’d been gambling in the same spot that I had been past while he (I now have pieced together) frequented hookers either from the casino or down the road at the bus station where they also meander selling a good time with a positive finale. On this specific day (sometime ago in or around February 2017) we didn’t quite make it to the casino. He was exerting his dominance and I was fighting back and at one point I flicked him in the side of the head and he strong armed me and I bopped him on the nose (and yes flick and bop are exactly as they sound minor annoyances but not meant to cause pain or injury) so he pulled the car over for the second time and said he was calling the police. I’m guessing now that he was bluffing but I’d had enough of his dominance and I believed he was calling at the time so I jumped in the drivers seat *to make his point and fake the call he had to not be sitting right next to me* and backed up and flipped a u-turn and went home. Turns out the police did end up getting called because it started to snow when I drove away and he was infuriated with my taking his car so since the police would not do a darn thing about the car because I had been allowed to drive it for the year previous and therefore had not stolen anything he proceeded to press domestic violence charges against me and had his handy little restraining order prior to the date in question just waiting to use it in all it’s defaming glory because I was likely getting my kids back if he didn’t throw a wrench in the game and he didn’t want to have my kids full time living with us as that would not be conducive to his lifestyle and the one in which he wanted me as his toy for when he was bored.
It gets worst for me after that that day as I had nowhere to go and was a scared little mouse in a tiny little apartment with one way in and out and no idea what to do because at that point I checked and saw he HAD called 911 after I left and there they were pounding on the door… Never do this but a trick I learned on the mean streets of Tacompton is that if you put a large knife behind the door and wedged into the doorjamb you will create an unlockable lock on your door. I had done just that that day in hopes of what I do not know because it was not going to do me any good to be seeming to barricade myself and be dodging the officers direct orders to open up…. So with headphones not playing a darn bit of music but plugged in and pretending to be as my excuse for being late to hearing the door I removed said knife.
Now simultaneously the officers unlocked the door yet again (forgot to mention I had moronically relocked it after their first unlocking as though I merely must have forgotten to lock it and happened to notice right then… fear does not create logical thinking for me) and expecting resistance again pushed in. Butcher knife (go big or go home right?!) in hand jumping backward thus swinging my arm up and coming down to landing in a defensive attack kind of squat to balance myself did not do me any favors. I did redeem myself as wholly as I could by – before they could react and pull their weapons – chucking the knife to the side and away clearly in no way moving it toward them and then diving on the ground and putting my hands behind my back. The front and center policeman never did pull his weapon and he was a hefty piece of meat which is why I assumed the “arrest me!” position so quickly, his tackle would have resulted in broken bones I do believe. The taller and leaner officer behind him did eventually draw his gun and even aimed it where I had been because that was how slow he’d been to get it out. They carried me down the stairs kicking and screaming like a toddler because that is exactly what I felt like especially with cool guy shaking his head and making awful cruel comments as we passed him and our apartment manager (I had both sets of keys…). Dude was evilly smug and proud of himself and he’d baited me with that receipt and set me up right before my court date where I had all my ducks in a row and my ex didn’t and had again popped for drugs in his testing while she was in his “temporary custody” after he’d abducted my kids and set me up but that is for another day or at least another post since I’m in a sharing mood today.

Throughout this whole ordeal in which we have just begun I trusted Alex (dude, warden, my guy) with my life because he’d saved me from being on the streets any longer than the few weeks I’d been homeless and a wreck after Grayson (the ex and youngest daughter’s father) took my kids and didn’t return them after dinner after only just starting to come around following a hiatus from parenthood to start his new family of about 7 to 15 months sporadic visits amongst.
Yeah I’ll keep on a rambling so I will be quiet on any more ‘splaining to do for now.

🅸 🅳🅸🅳 🅷🅾🆆🅴🆅🅴🆁 🅵🅾🆁🅶🅴🆃 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🆃🅷🅸🆂 🅱🅴🅶🅰🅽 🅸🅽 🆁🅴🅵🅴🆁🅴🅽🅲🅴 🆃🅾 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅸’🅼 🆂🆃🅸🅻🅻 🅳🅴🅰🅻🅸🅽🅶 🆆🅸🆃🅷 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅾🆄🅶🅷🆃 🆆🅰🆂 🅰🆂 🆁🅴🅰🅻 🅰🆂 🆃🅷🅴 🅻🅸🅺🅴🆂 🅾🅵 🆃🅷🅴 🅻🅾🅲🅷 🅽🅴🆂🆂 🅼🅾🅽🆂🆃🅴🆁 🅰🅽🅳 🅱🅸🅶🅵🅾🅾🆃 : 🅰 🆂🅴🆁🅸🅰🅻 🅲🅷🅴🅰🆃🅴🆁, 🅰🅽 🅰🅳🅳🅸🅲🆃 🆃🅾 🅰🅳🅳🅸🅲🆃🅸🅾🅽, 🅰 🆂🅾🅲🅸🅾🅿🅰🆃🅷 🆆🅷🅾 🅸🆂 **🅽🅴🆆🆂 🅵🅻🅰🆂🅷** 🅿🆄🆉🆉🅻🅴 🅿🅸🅴🅲🅴🆂 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🅲🅾🅼🅴 🅱🅰🅲🅺 🆃🅾🅶🅴🆃🅷🅴🆁 🅵🆁🅾🅼 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅸 🆁🅴🅰🅻🅸🆉🅴🅳 🅸🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🅱🅴🅶🅸🅽🅽🅸🅽🅶 🅱🅴🅵🅾🆁🅴 🅸 “🆆🅴🅽🆃 🅲🆁🅰🆉🆈” 🅴🆇🅰🅲🆃🅸🅽🅶 🅷🅸🆂 🆅🅴🅽🅶🅴🅰🅽🅲🅴 🅵🅾🆁 🅷🅸🆂 🅴🆇-🆆🅸🅵🅴’🆂 🅼🅸🆂🆃🆁🅴🅰🆃🅼🅴🅽🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🅷🆄🅼🅸🅻🅸🅰🆃🅸🅾🅽 🅷🅴 🆂🆄🅵🅵🅴🆁🅴🅳 🅱🆈 🅷🅴🆁 🅸🅽🅳🅸🅵🅵🅴🆁🅴🅽🅲🅴 🆃🅾🆆🅰🆁🅳 🅷🅸🅼 🅾🅽 🅼🅴 🅰🅽🅳 🅴🆅🅴🅽 🆆🆁🅾🆃🅴 🅰🅱🅾🆄🆃 🅷🅾🆆 🅷🅴’🅳 🅳🅾 🅸🆃 🆃🅾 🅷🅴🆁 🅰🅽🅳 🅸🅽🆂🆃🅴🅰🅳 🅸’🅼 🅿🅰🆈🅸🅽🅶 🅵🅾🆁 🅷🅴🆁 <🅰🆂 🅰🆃🆃🆁🅸🅱🆄🆃🅴🅳 🅱🆈 🅷🅸🆂 🆂🅸🅲🅺 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🆆🅸🆂🆃🅴🅳 🅴🅽🆃🅸🆃🅻🅴🅳 🅼🅸🅽🅳> 🆂🅸🅽🆂 🅰🅽🅳 🅰 🅲🅷🅰🅼🅴🅻🅴🅾🅽 🆆🅷🅾 🆃🅾 🅴🆅🅴🆁🆈🅾🅽🅴 🅴🅻🆂🅴 (🅴🆅🅴🅽 🅷🅸🆂 🅴🆇-🆆🅸🅵🅴 🅽🅾🆆 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸’🅼 🅷🅸🆂 🅿🆄🅽🅲🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅱🅰🅶) 🅸🆂 🅶🅸🆅🅸🅽🅶, 🅺🅸🅽🅳, 🅷🅴🅻🅿🅵🆄🅻, 🅿🅰🆁🆃 🅾🅵 🅰🅽🅳 🅸🆂 🆂🆄🆁🅴 🅰🆂 🅷🅴🅲🅺 🆃🅾 🅽🅾🆃 🅲🅾🅼🅿🅻🅰🅸🅽 🆃🅾🅾 🅼🆄🅲🅷 🅰🅱🅾🆄🆃 🅼🅴 🅱🆄🆃 🅹🆄🆂🆃 🅴🅽🅾🆄🅶🅷 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🆆🅷🅴🅽 🅸’🅼 🅱🆁🅾🆄🅶🅷🆃 🆄🅿 🆃🅷🅴🆁🅴 🅸🆂 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅺🅽🅾🆆🅸🅽🅶 🆂🅰🅳 🅷🅴🅰🅳 🅽🅾🅳 🅱🆈 🅷🅸🆂 🅼🅰🅻🅴 🅰🅰 🅱🆁🅴🆃🅷🆁🅴🅽 🅰🅽🅳 🅴🆅🅴🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🅵🅴🅼🅰🅻🅴🆂 🅿🆁🅾🅱🅰🅱🅻🆈 🅽🅾🆆 – 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸🆂 🅸🅵 🅷🅴 🅴🆅🅴🅽 🅲🅻🅰🅸🅼🆂 🆃🅾 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🅰 🅶🅸🆁🅻🅵🆁🅸🅴🅽🅳 🅾🆁 🆁🅾🅾🅼🅼🅰🆃🅴 🅾🆁 🅺🅽🅾🆆🅸🅽🅶 🅼🅴 🅰🆃 🅰🅻🅻 🅰🆃 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅿🅾🅸🅽🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅸🅼🅴. 🆆🅷🅴🅽 🅸 🆆🅰🆂 🅼🅴🅳🅸🅲🅰🆃🅴🅳 🅷🅴 🆃🆁🅰🅸🅿🆂🅴🅳 🅼🅴 🅰🆁🅾🆄🅽🅳 🅷🅸🆂 🅻🅸🆃🆃🅻🅴 🆃🆁🅾🅿🅷🆈/🅰🅲🅲🅾🅼🅿🅻🅸🆂🅷🅼🅴🅽🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🅸 🅲🅾🆄🅻🅳🅽’🆃 🆃🅴🅻🅻 🆈🅾🆄 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🆂🆃🅾🆁🅸🅴🆂 🅿🅴🅾🅿🅻🅴 🆃🅷🅸🅽🅺 🅾🅵 🅼🅴 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🅱🅴🆃🆆🅴🅴🅽 🅷🅸🅼 🅰🅽🅳 🅼🆈 🅴🆇 🆃🅷🅴🆁🅴 🅸🆂 🅰 🅽🅾🆅🅴🅻 🅾🆄🆃 🆃🅷🅴🆁🅴 🅾🅵 🆂🆃🅾🆁🅸🅴🆂 🅸 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🆈🅴🆃 🆃🅾 🅷🅴🅰🆁 🆃🅷🅴 🅼🅰🅹🅾🆁🅸🆃🆈 🅾🅵 🅱🆄🆃 🅽🅾🅽🅴 🅾🅵 🆆🅷🅸🅲🅷 🅷🅾🅻🅳 🅰 🅻🅸🅲🅺 🅾🅵 🆃🆁🆄🆃🅷 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🆃🅷🅴🆈 🅳🅾🅽’🆃 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🅰🅽🆈 🅸🅳🅴🅰 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅸’🆅🅴 🅱🅴🅴🅽 🆄🅿 🆃🅾. 🅳🆄🅳🅴 🅴🅽🅳🅴🅳 🆄🅿 🅲🅷🅴🅰🆃🅸🅽🅶 🅾🅽 🅼🅴 🅰🅽🅳 🆆🅷🅸🅻🅴 🅼🅴🅳🅸🅲🅰🆃🅴🅳 🅷🅴🅰🆅🅸🅻🆈 🅰🅽🅳 🆁🅰🆁🅴🅻🆈 🅶🅴🆃🆃🅸🅽🅶 🅾🆄🆃 🅾🅵 🅱🅴🅳 🆃🅾 🅿🅴🅴 🅸 🅼🅰🅽🅰🅶🅴🅳 🆃🅾 🅵🅸🅽🅳 🅾🆄🆃 🅷🅴 🆆🅰🆂 🅳🅾🅸🅽🅶 🆂🅾 🅰🅽🅳 🅼🆈 🅶🆄🆃 🅵🅴🅴🅻🅸🅽🅶 🅵🅾🆁🅲🅴🅳 🅼🅴 🆃🅾 🅰🅲🆃🆄🅰🅻🅻🆈 🅿🆄🅻🅻 🅼🆈🆂🅴🅻🅵 🅾🆄🆃 🅾🅵 🆃🅷🅴 🅶🆁🅾🅶🅶🆈 🅻🅰 🅻🅰 🅻🅰🅽🅳 🅾🅵 🅽🆄🅼🅱🅽🅴🆂🆂 🅸’🅳 🅱🅴🅲🅾🅼🅴 🅰🅲🅲🆄🆂🆃🅾🅼🅴🅳 🆃🅾. 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅴🅽 🅸 🆂🆃🅾🅿🅿🅴🅳 🆃🅷🅾🆂🅴 🅳🅰🅼🅽🅴🅳 🅼🅴🅳🆂 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🅴🆅🅴🆁🆈🆃🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅲🅰🅼🅴 🅵🅻🅾🅾🅳🅸🅽🅶 🅱🅰🅲🅺 – 🅼🆈 🅼🅴🅼🅾🆁🅸🅴🆂, 🆁🅴🅰🅻🅸🆃🆈, 🅻🅸🅵🅴 🅾🆄🆃🆂🅸🅳🅴 🆃🅷🅴 🅽🆄🅼🅱🅽🅴🆂🆂 🆆🅰🆂 🆂🅲🅰🆁🆈 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅾🅾 🅱🆁🅸🅶🅷🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅾🅾 🅼🆄🅲🅷 🅱🆄🆃 🅸🆃 🆆🅰🆂 🆁🅴🅰🅻 🅰🅽🅳 🅸 🅵🅴🅻🆃 🅸🆃 …🅰 🅱🅸🆃 🆃🅾🅾 🅸🅽🆃🅴🅽🆂🅴🅻🆈 🆃🅾 🆃🅴🅻🅻 🆃🅷🅴 🆃🆁🆄🆃🅷 🆂🅾 🅸 🅷🅾🅿🅿🅴🅳 🅱🅰🅲🅺 🅾🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🆂🅴🅻🅵 🅼🅴🅳🅸🅲🅰🆃🅸🅽🅶 🆃🆁🅰🅸🅽 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸🆂 🆆🅷🅴🅽 🅸 🆂🆃🅰🆁🆃🅴🅳 🆃🅷🅸🆂 🅱🅻🅾🅶 🆂🅾 🆈🅾🆄 🅲🅰🅽 🆂🅴🅴 🅿🆁🅴🆅🅸🅾🆄🆂 🅿🅾🆂🆃🆂 🅾🅽 🅼🆈 🅰🆃🆃🅴🅼🅿🆃🆂 🅰🆃 🆀🆄🅸🆃🆃🅸🅽🅶 🆂🅾🅼🅴🆃🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅸 🅷🅰🅳 🅽🅾 🅳🅴🆂🅸🆁🅴 🆃🅾 🆀🆄🅸🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🅳🅸🅳🅽’🆃 🆄🆂🅴 🆁🅴🅶🆄🅻🅰🆁🅻🆈 🅰🅽🅳 🆆🅰🆂🅽’🆃 🅰🅵🅵🅴🅲🆃🅸🅽🅶 🅼🆈 🅻🅸🅵🅴 🅱🅴🆂🅸🅳🅴🆂 🆃🅷🅴 🅲🆁🅰🅿 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸 🅷🅰🅳 🆃🅾 🅿🆁🅾🆅🅸🅳🅴 🅵🆁🅾🅼 🆃🅷🅴 🆂🅷🅸🆃🆂🅷🅾🆆 🅾🅵 🅱🅴🅵🅾🆁🅴. 🅸’🅼 🅶🅾🅸🅽🅶 🅸🅽 🅲🅸🆁🅲🅻🅴🆂 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸🆂 🅾🅺🅰🆈 🆃🅾🅳🅰🆈 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🅸 🅰🅼 🅸🅽 🅰 🅲🅸🆁🅲🆄🅸🆃🅾🆄🆂 🆃🆈🅿🅴 🅾🅵 🅼🅾🅾🅳.

𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕞 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 : 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪. 𝕀𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕃𝕪 𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕟𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕕𝕠 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕞𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪. ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕤𝕠 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖?

reLapse = end gaMe?

Maybe not this time.
Hell with the roll I’ve been on probably nothing to be worried about, right.
Eeeeehh wrong.
Of course I’m the chosen one and that means I’m bullet proof.

Which is the belief of every person that goes back out.
Not gonna happen to me. I KNOW what I’m doing.

I’m safe – I don’t use heroin anymore, I smoke meth.
No one OD’s smoking meth, you fall asleep before being able to.
I’m not shooting it when I relapse, THAT would be scary.

“If it is on the internet then it must be true,” Abraham Lincoln.

I got my information from what I’d been told by other users and my internet “research” but when I took another look without trying to get the answer I wanted to hear I found a much darker reality:

In 2017 over 10,000 overdose deaths occurred from the use of Psychostimulants (most common being methamphetamine) and while, yes many of these OD deaths also included an Opioid involvement, over 5,000 of the 10,000+ were caused solely by Psychostimulants.

I don’t know how to produce my drug of choice or my drug of second choice.
Even if I did I wouldn’t be able to tell you exactly what was in what I’d be picking up to use.

I play Russian Roulette with my sanity and mental acuity every time I take a hit.
And say I were to get a batch that amps my system up higher and faster than the “usual,” which I’ve experienced, I could cause my heart to explode.

Methamphetamine overdoses cause heart attacks, strokes and comas and frequently psychosis with or without the physical ailments.

I know this and I still convince myself that it wouldn’t happen to me.
Insanity.
Especially because it has happened to me, and I barely made it back.

We convince ourselves that the people who OD and/or die from drug abuse fucked up, it was their own fault, and we know better. But we’re still using, so apparently we don’t.


OD on Me.

oops… my bad

So my scariest overdose, yes there is more than one to choose from, during my stint using heroin I didn’t even experience. When you use heroin the idea is to get high right? You’re pushing yourself to the brink of overdose every time you shoot the poison into your veins.
I don’t care how attune you are to your use, how well you know your amounts, your tolerance, any measurement you use regularly could be your last if the chemicals react wrong that time.
For me I simply used too much of something stronger than I was used to.
It was the first time I was shooting up without the guy that had introduced me to this devil dance setting up my amount but I had his best friend doing the honors and we went with less than what my usual dose was. I was so excited for oblivion, I didn’t think twice before fully expending the entirety of my rig into my bloodstream.
Immediately I felt the warm embrace of my dark mistress and the intensity continued to rise until I lost the ability to speak, or move, my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I was free floating in the blackest of black engulfing whatever was left of my being, I’d lost all connection to my body and while I desperately wanted to find where it had gone the soothing blackness was lulling me deeper into the abyss. I felt an aching fear that I was lost and not in control of me, of where I was or was going. I have been blown (incredibly, intensely high where you have to keep hold of something inside of you to bring you back to reality eventually) out of my mind numerous times when I thought I’d lost my grip but this time there had not been anything to hold on to.

For what felt like an eternity I floated in the nothingness that the enticing blackness had become. I knew I needed to find my something to hold onto to get back. Back to.. my girls a snippet of what felt like thought and then nothing. No tether. “My girls” meant less and less to whatever processing I was clinging to. I felt nothing at all.
Almost fully succumbed to whatever total enmeshment that felt less and less when everything turned white and spun so fast if I’d had a stomach still I would have been sick for sure. I feel something with my being, almost like something slipping through my fingers. The enormity of emotions I experienced realizing I’d found my connection, my hold onto to get back intangible way back.
While I felt so close to what I was yearning for by instinct my thoughts and feelings swirled in some mush that felt muddied and indistinct.
I desperately wanted to make sense of the murky swirls and an overwhelming sense of dread overtook all of my focus.
Noise! Just realizing that it had been more than silent during my experience the incomprehensible moaning got faster, frantic. I was feeling the sound more than hearing it and the cloudy froth was in all of my senses.
As though I’d been snapped into place, a searing burn erupted in my lungs and I physically felt all my extremities go from numb to pins and needles in a wave. It was as though my whole body was experiencing the sensation of “waking up” like if my foot had fallen asleep. It was the best worst sensation to be able to be reconnected with my body but the pins and needles phenomenon intensifying in all the wrong places.
My lung was still inflamed and I felt like I had the worst heartburn bubbling up and roiling making bile sear my throat as I painfully swallowed gulps of air that intensified the burning in my chest. It was excruciating and uncomfortable but my eyes opening and seeing shapes and fuzz and knowing that I was real and whole again dulled my pain as my senses were flooded with circuitry.

Slowly I began to comprehend what was going on around me. My head lolled half in, half out of the passenger window of my car as the wind whipped by. The pain in my body was again numbed but this time it was because I was so cold, shaking, shivering, and soaking wet with ice cold water.
The car jerked and whipped my head and neck to have a view of the driver’s side of the, apparently speeding, Honda Civic. We hit another jaunt in the road and I found out I was not seat-belted in as flew forward in my seat coming to rest sideways on the floor.
“Oh shit, Lyric, you’re back!” Josh whooped as he jerked the car around the cul-de-sac pulling into Colby’s driveway. I didn’t have any recollection of having left the bedroom.

Come to find out I immediately slumped over and stopped breathing after I stopped being able to speak. Instead of calling an ambulance Colby and Josh carried my unconscious, not breathing body out to the car and propped me up against it. Then they proceeded to drench me with the hose in 30 degree weather. I .. don’t know, why. I think the idea was to shock my system into forcing me to breathe. The explanation as to why no ambulance was called and why I was hurdled off property was also never articulated.
After the hose down Josh says he thought I was breathing but he couldn’t totally tell and he had to take me away from the house so he loaded me into the passenger seat and hoped the wind in my face would help me…possibly breathe or come to? I don’t think Josh had a clue what he was going for but panic set in for him when I started turning a bluish white in the face. I think he probably disagreed with his earlier assessment that the hose had gotten me breathing again.
So that is why he was whipping my car around the neighborhood all jerkily – to try to jolt me awake or breathing or … pretty much he was expecting me to die and had no clue what to do.
I was cold and couldn’t shake the cobwebs from my brain.
“That might’ve been too much for me,” I chuckled at a mortified looking Josh.
“It was way stronger than we expected and when I went to stop you from doing the whole thing I was too late and you stopped breathing.”

I knew to always test the waters before doing the entire shot. I knew that. I just didn’t that time. I always made sure. Except that time I didn’t.

Yeah I know I was warning of methamphetamine overdoses and this was a heroin OD but I got vivid flash backs and had to share, I remember the experience like it just happened, clearer now it seems.
This was my worst overdose and I’d love to say that I got scared, I took better precaution (wouldn’t make a difference anyway), I quit or at least slowed down, but it may as well have not occurred with the way I did nothing to prevent it happening again.

Broke my bRain, goed iNsaNe
yet I still dabbLe in that methamphetamine…

“Jesus was calling me, telling me to rid myself of all things but me.”
“Did he say no clothes though … or was that maybe a little of your own interpretation?”
“You’re such an asshole.”
….
“It really made all sorts of sense in the moment.”
“So you started dropping stuff all the way at the other end and at random all along the way?”
“I don’t like to make things easy, do I?”

….to be continued…




0.8 – the 5 indecent behaviors of a junkie

My addict behaviors (also the top 5 expected): lying, manipulation, criminality, blame shifting, and verbal abuse.

I’m a pretty honest person. Hot damn! that is a lie. Definitely not where my addiction is concerned. Every time I use I have to make and take texts or phone calls that I will need to sanitize from my phone (making me a hypocrite because I expect my boyfriend not to do just that) after the deal is completed. My whereabouts for the lost time spent scoring are also a lie or usually a well-timed execution so that no one noticed my absence and thus I omit. Then every time I actually consume the drug, if I don’t wait until I am home alone, I make up some excuse or another for going to the store so I can use in my car down the block. Back when I shot up I could just go into the restroom of anywhere and do my thing. Smoking is a pain because, while my boyfriend disagrees, I believe meth has a smell and heroin for sure did, it creates smoke and pipes or sheets of foil are not easy to quickly hide inconspicuously. Every time I’ve attempted to hide either I have been caught red-handed. The boyfriend finding my rigs (needles) after going through my purse was the only way I got caught on that front. I am NOT promoting the use of needles – I wish I NEVER had and NEVER will again (I may relapse but am NOT going back to that insane method of drug use – I should have died so many times) and am beyond lucky to be alive after having done so. I am a liar, not to you, I’m honest with you and that is one of the difficult things about blogging my sobriety including my fuck ups because even though I don’t know you it is humiliating. I don’t actively lie in my sobriety I just omit certain things that I wouldn’t appreciate the boyfriend doing to me that I am doing (yeah I see the hypocrisy and the asshole I am) like messaging with a sober friend (who is male and therein lies the problem). See I know I am not doing anything wrong but I’m not doing something right. I just appreciate the support and attention! yeah. Alex and I have an agreement that we don’t participate in any form of relationship (friendship included) with members of the opposite sex because there is no good reason why we would need validation or attention from someone that is not the two of us. Its flawed thinking but it is a respect thing that we agree on. Thankfully he doesn’t do social media and I’m a super sleuth of all things cell phone so I am unworried, he got caught when he tried to step outside the terms and has been on good behavior since. Oh yeah we were talking about ME the liar. Other than that facebook contact and the occasional check-in by old friends on facebook I don’t hide anything else. Oh but back to being high I also have to pretend to be sober, rarely do I believe I fool Alex and probably Joke’s on me! thinking I’m fooling anybody else. Lying is painful though it rots a pit in your gut and the only way to cure that is through the agony of admitting the truth! I’ve done so though. After I got sober for my decent length of sobriety before the October relapse I admitted all my wrongs and lies to Alex. This guy is awesome-sauce staying with me after I admitted to pawning all his valuable jewelry among a bevy of other trespasses and lies. What a freaking guy!
Before moving onto my manipulation I thought I’d address the big purple elephant bouncing in the corner: I realize that by my not being honest in my relationship I am creating the mistrust I hate. If I can keep him in the dark then of course he’s probably got some shadow over me and even if that is not the case that is what I do believe. I feel kind of indifferent about it because he did who-knows-what with that female I caught him talking inappropriately to. I’m still so hurt by that that I’ll blame shift all day long! But yeah I see the cycle and don’t like that I am perpetuating it. Not proud of any of my pettiness.

I can bullshit my way through most situations high or sober, I am a bullshitter – it is a family trait passed down on my father’s side and it hasn’t skipped a generation or child in our family yet! Which yes I understand entails lying but it is smooth wordplay and if done right everyone walks away feeling like a winner. My bullshitting ways took a drug addled left turn to become manipulation right before my very eyes. I didn’t even realize I was doing it but I usually get what I want so the change wasn’t apparent. And then I did something I am super ashamed of but can never make unhappen – I threatened to commit suicide if Alex didn’t stay home from work with me. Ugh. Blah. Spit. Then I started seeing how I was playing on many people’s emotions and kindness to keep getting what I wanted when I wanted it. Alex got the worst of it. I was the master of guilt and could make a person feel bad for doing something good. My “friends” (other addicts) tried and failed to manipulate me while I was pulling their strings. And I felt what I was doing was okay! Now I get that it is abusive to manipulate someone and sometimes have to work hard not to – I did it for more than two weeks so it because a habit. The lawyer I used that screwed me over told me that I should be Trump’s spokeswoman because I could give Sarah Sanders (his actual spokeswomen) a run for her money in spinning truths. I base every exaggeration, lie, or spun truth on the truth because outright lying is too hard to keep straight. I am proud of my powers of persuasion!

A criminal? Who me? Never! and she lies again (just a joke I’m honest with you!). So I’m over thirty and have a nearly clean record. I’d gotten a possession of paraphernalia (I spelled that letter-twister right the first time!) for marijuana charge right after I turned 18 and a MIP Minor in Possession charge at 19 (alcohol). What a rebel I was! Yeah, not really but I did get away with a lot more I could have been in trouble for. Then, however, I got homeless. In order to get drugs, we would boost stuff that Mick (my dealer) wanted to pay for them so that got me started shoplifting. I really liked shoplifting; it made a lot more sense to me to just take what I wanted rather than pay for it. I liked it so much so that when I finally had money and started buying things again I had a hard time. I still could steal a lot of what I buy but I don’t have that meth-confidence that gave me the gumption to walk out the door without paying. I mostly stole gifts for my girls and jewelry – they have since taken the jewelry completely out of the Fred Meyer I would shoplift the fashion jewelry from. I’d forgotten about how I got started stealing until I remembered, mere moments ago, what I shared with you. Around the same time as the boosting for drugs campaign while I was homeless I stepped up my unlawful game and stepped into the world of prostitution. For about two weeks I sold myself through sex or a blow job more often than not. It is a surreal endeavor that I do not recall much of. I had a couple regulars, well men who wanted to be my regulars if I’d continued, who paid me very well. My excuse was that I had never enjoyed sex (true story save for 2 occasions) and had been having it for free for years so why not get paid for my displeasure. I carried bags and a backpack so I looked like some high school kid strolling down the street at ungodly hours. I don’t think the police were trying to stop the prostitution as it was an area known for it and I didn’t get stopped once. I found it weird, also, that I just wore regular clothes (and I don’t dress at all slutty quite the opposite) and had a three car back up at one point. Not proud, not ashamed, leaving my unsettling choices there in the past where they belong.

I wasn’t a big blame shifter but I did do my fair share during the custody cases. Trust you me it was not that I was on drugs and not willing to go to rehab that it all blew up in my face nope nosiree, it actually wasn’t they didn’t base it off of that but it definitely wouldn’t have hurt. The courts went off of a few stories Grayson made up to scare my family into being on his side but weren’t in any way true and the other lies he told throughout the court proceedings. I didn’t help my case by continuing to use though and know I allowed for his lies to be seen as possible with my action or inaction or both. I’ve accepted most everything and do take responsibility for my use but there are some things I’ll never agree with. And I take and took the blame for where I am at in life and know it is my decisions that have gotten me here. I’m pretty happy here, now, so I’m going to stay that way by not delving too deep into this blame shifting business,

Last but definitely not my least is verbal abuse. Get me high and give a cell phone with the ability to text as much as I want as many times as I want and numbers for the people guilty of getting involved in my life unasked and taking my kids from me. I can twist words into knives and convince a person to stab themselves with them. I’m a much better manipulator when I’m not on the spot and can edit my commentary. Words are my most powerful weapon and I utilized this during my addiction. I was superior and knew more than anyone else or could at least make it sound like I did. Alex had to deal with a lot of verbal abuse spewed at him at all hours and with no regard to him working hard every day to keep us going. I was an awful jackass to him for a bit while I was getting high. I can honestly say that I was a piece of crap as an addict for a period as most of these things were overlapping on my timeline.

“Don’t be defined by your past. It was a lesson, not a life sentence.”

Unknown

dopefiend Out!