Maybe not this time.
Hell with the roll I’ve been on probably nothing to be worried about, right.
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.
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…
My girls have been through so much turmoil in the past few years because of my poor choices and addiction. Still today I was amazed, touched, and reminded of what is truly important when I read the inscriptions on their cards they gave me.
I was so touched and elated, and surprised. I rarely get to see her and was worried that she was growing away from me but how excited she was about the phrases and words she used to describe me showed me our bond is as strong, maybe even stronger, as it always was. This little girl makes me so happy, her exuberance for life is inspiring.
This sweet, strong, beautiful child makes me so proud. She admits, I knew it had been so I asked once it had passed, she hated me for the first year after all the upheaval happened in our lives because she was hearing horrible things about me regularly. Our bond and connection now is even more unbreakable than ever for it. She’s my mini-me and just makes this world a better place to live in.
I am such a lucky mom. My children have forgiven me and never stopped loving me (Riley only hated me because she was hurt by me, her mom, and that is all out of love) even though I messed up so big time. I don’t tell my kids everything but I admit my mistakes in age appropriate ways and make sure they never forget that they are my favorite part of life.
Until just recently I hadn’t heard that saying to “feel your feels [feelings]” and I overheard my daughter, Riley, telling her boyfriend that she understood that that was what he was doing and my amazing 12 year old empowered her counterpart to do so however he needed and she would be there for him. My girl is showing empathy! There are a lot of other emotions and hormonal scatterbrain going on in her preteen years so for her to be learning and embracing the complexities of empathy is impressive. She was unaware of the word or action and we had a great discussion on it and her usage and my pride in her last night.
I would say I “struggle” with empathy but that is a lie I know how to be empathetic I would just rather cut the cord of bullshit and get down to the brass tact of the issue. I teach my kids empathy, I know it is important in being a good person to be empathetic, I often am empathetic to an extent but, what is the saying, those who can’t do, teach? Joking, joking. I just have no appetite for listening to someone knowingly lie to themselves to feel better in a situation where they were wrong and know it but are expecting support for their delusions. I’ll admit, some people are further down the rabbit hole of deluding themselves and may not realize when they are in the wrong, those who are the perpetual victim.
But, this is not about them, and that is the heart of the problem with my no nonsense approach to analyzing and/or “helping” in situations (when I’m asked to, I no longer just throw my two cents around except sometimes with coworkers), I’m not sensitive to the other person’s self-denial. I also don’t like to be bullshitted. I can and do bullshit my way around some situations in life that I don’t feel like dealing with but that doesn’t bring about resolution it just placates my ego. It is likely that more often than not I am making a true ass out of myself in talking circuitously instead of taking responsibility and people are just unwilling to call me out on it. So that is what I do for the betterment of everyone.
I would love (and hate in the moment as has been the case) if people would call me on my bullshit. One of my favorite people in the world is my dad and good, bad, or indifferent he has taught me the art of bullshitting; he is also the person I can trust to not play into my self-denial and will call me on the carpet every time. That I love! That I need! So that is also what I do, not always, I know when someone is not ready for self-actualization and don’t push it but I try to make it understood that we can be honest and have a real discussion, no judgement.
Empathy is about the other person, I know, and I am not being selfless as is needed to hone this interpersonal skill but I also know (ego! alert) I am making a positive difference. Yeah I can’t bullshit myself, my dad believes I am a sociopath and I tend to agree I have some tendencies leaning that direction, many people prefer to stay deluded and just be agreed with which is their right so long as they don’t ask my advice.
My aunt Demi is a beautiful, kindhearted train wreck. When we first got back into contact regularly a few months back she learned quickly and brutally that I wouldn’t cosign her bullshit. She still tries it with me and come to find out she doesn’t always see her fault (so she says) and I help her see, so see I’m helping. I’m cynical because I know that I know when I’m wrong even if I will steadfastly play the role of the victim. I do also forget that other people’s minds don’t work the same as mine, as mine doesn’t work the same as other people’s all the time.
My boyfriend has a buddy that will cosign ALL his bullshit and then write another check and it is sickening to witness. When he asked if it was okay that he was planning to ghost me after three years ol’ boy said with all he had done for me over that time it was perfectly understandable and he was the good person in the situation and always had been. Alex talks to him a lot less after I pointed it out because that is not a friend, that is an enabler.
I stayed in self-denial about my fault in losing my girls and still sometimes forget to remember my part. My dad kept me honest throughout though and let me hide in my bullshit only after I admitted my responsibility. That is love and true friendship to me.
So this is a bit of a character defect, or is it? I think it’s on the fence because my intentions are good in wanting to help someone get to the crutch of the issue but a bit selfish in not allowing them to decide when to process their own bullshit. Really if they ask I think it is my right to give my honest opinion but is it right?
I’ve only had a few truly devastating and traumatic situations in my life so I only know from those that I prefer tough love and brutal honesty to commiseration. I also don’t process all emotions. Until today I could not wrap my brain around anger, it just seemed nonsensical and counterproductive to a positive outcome but after reading the reasoning for a person’s experience of anger earlier I gained a bit of understanding as to why people get angry.
Always learning. I realize empathy can be used for sharing all different feelings and emotions through another person’s experience with them. I am just ranting about the enabling kind with a specific kind of people that I have run into a lot throughout life so it seems common and hopefully is relatable. It could also speak to the company I’ve always kept!
My character defects: bullshitting, lying, avoidance, selfishness, pride, ego, manipulation, self-aggrandizing, impatience,
3- and 4-word positive sayings
Well that was fun.
Talk at you tomorrow!!
Detective Pikachu matinee! whoop! whoop!
I hate this story but it is a HUGE part of my life story and must be told at some point so why not now?
The most importantest: I have two daughters, Riley and Hope, now they are 12 and 7 respectively but at the time of the abduction by my ex Grayson (Hope’s dad, Riley’s stepdad) they were 9 and 4. I had spent nearly every moment of Hope’s life with her up until that day and Riley had gone on a couple vacations with Grandma but otherwise only left my side to go to school. These two are my whole world and always will be. I had made some choices that left us homeless after a caregiver live-in (for me and my girls too good to be true right…bed bugs!) position went awry and we were no longer able to stay there and my grandparents (where we had been staying prior to moving for the job) wouldn’t let me go back, only the girls could. And I did send them to stay there for a week while I got us set up in the motel and Riley’s transportation arrangements made for school got worked out. At that point it was the longest period I’d been away from Hope ever and I thought THAT was hard, little did I know what Grayson had in store.
If only I’d been there: Grayson came to our motel where he had picked the girls up and taken them for dinner two days prior while I was at the store and they were with their babysitter, Tiffeny. He told Tiffeny that he was taking them for dinner and they’d be back in an hour or two. Instead Grayson took the girls and left Tacoma and took them to where he’d been staying – with his new family he’d acquired while not visiting the girls for months – in Seattle. He knew I didn’t have a vehicle and had no means of getting anywhere near Seattle but he made sure that wouldn’t have mattered anyway. When I called him to see when they’d be back, as it had been more than a couple hours by then, he refused to tell me where they were or let me talk to them. And, of course, he refused to bring them back.
I felt that I couldn’t do anything about it cause I didn’t even have a car or a real place for us to live so I didn’t think the police were going to help me. I couldn’t even tell them where they were and there wasn’t a parenting plan in place for Hope so he had as much “rights” to her as I did.
What I could have, would have, should have gotten him was on kidnapping Riley because he had NO parental ANYTHING to her and definitely didn’t have my or her father’s [Aiden’s] permission to take her. I realized this then, not right away but within the week at most, but had already spun myself out to forget.
I’ve always upheld that I wasn’t getting high around my kids and then Grayson took them SO I got high. It was also my excuse for having methamphetamine (thankfully, as it could have made matters worse for me, there was no heroin, how not is still a wonder to me) in an exorbitant amount in my hair follicle test – I had binged AFTER he’d taken my kids and refused to bring them back. The truth must be very obvious by now: I’d definitely gotten high while I was with (not in the same room ever nor in their view) my girls since I was getting high and I was a stay at home mom who was always with my girls and been around them while high more often in the years since my accident than not. I did a hardcore binge on meth and heroin after he took my babies and at the time left me with no hint at even what city they were in.
I use the word devastated for my experience being, at the very least, emotionally cheated on and finding out but the true definition of devastation is what I felt without my girls along with the awareness that NOTHING WOULD EVER BE THE SAME AGAIN. Not knowing that they were okay nearly killed me, they needed me they didn’t know anything but their mommy! And that he wouldn’t even let me talk to them to reassure them or just hear that they weren’t in any anguish, like I was, further compounded my genuine desire to die. The only thing that kept me going was that they still needed me and no matter what I couldn’t leave them behind on this Earth without their mom, not by my doing at least.
I’ve never experienced such loss before or since and the hole it tore through me was an indescribable combination of heartbreak and despair made even more intense by it being my babies, my life, my everything and having them ripped from me so abruptly and unexpectedly. I didn’t even get to hug or kiss them goodbye.
Because my emotions were so forceful and gut wrenching and after I gave up begging Grayson to let me talk to my girls and hung up on his holier-than-thou bash-Lyric-a-thon (I’ve used plenty of drugs with this guy and knew he was still using and drinking so I couldn’t be bothered with his dripping hypocrisy if I wasn’t going to talk to my kids), I dove straight into my stash and did up the entirety.
I didn’t care if I ODed, I actually would have preferred it. So I got blown (really really frikkin high) and just kept on going to forget I even existed. Even through my drug-induced haze of numbness the pain of being without my kids was the most sickeningly intense, excruciating emptiness. I thought I was, and welcomed, having a heart attack because I had shooting pains in my heart and a restriction in my chest crushing me into the little ball that I stayed rolled into for hours, geetered (really really frikkin high) and sobbing. I must have looked a mess and the depressed, crying girl in the corner is always to be avoided less you fall into their low. I lost a big part of my self, that I’ll never get back, when that went down.
And then I started my spiral, ran straight to the shit- which got me screwed on that hair follicle and with Grayson’s lies backed by my grandparents newfound knowledge of my lifestyle and the happenings within it being taken as God’s word by my GAL I was toast before I even knew I had an emergency hearing for my grandparents to take custody of Riley. I sobered up for that few hours and agreed that Riley would temporarily stay with my grandparents while I got back on my feet and into housing for us.
I got to see Hope being held by a stranger of a woman who tried to keep her from me and came to find out this was Grayson’s new family, her two sons Mikaela and Montgomery (yeah I don’t have any explanation to either) were in the truck. I realized she was purposefully flaunting my daughter to screw with me and went to find Grayson. I got about 10 minutes of time with Hope and agreed to them taking Riley camping and wrote a release note for picking her up at school. I figured I should be as amicable as I could fake so that I could get as much information as possible.
Grayson was there at the emergency hearing to see that his plan had gone as hoped – he had set everything in motion before he even knew where we were staying. After not having a vehicle or license the entire 6 years we were together his daddy came to visit and paid off his tickets, got him his license, and bought him a truck and insurance spending over $20,000 and with Grayson, as always, not having to take any responsibility or action on his own. He’d been talking to my grandparents and his lies (and I’d be honest if he was telling truths but these were fake and too ridiculous for a normal, rational and knowledgeable people to even begin to take seriously or anyone who had been around Grayson to buy into) worked like a charm in convincing my grandmother he’d been doing all the work with the girls and covering for my lack of involvement and he had been some upstanding “husband” and “father” the whole time we were together. In reality he couldn’t keep a job, leeched off of unemployment that I did the job searches and paperwork for him for, was only interested in his “band” and “making it” as a bassist, and when he wasn’t playing “music” he would sit and play hours and hours of video games. He also drank his rum and cokes nightly and was latched to his marijuana dabber pen/pipe thing (he couldn’t go an hour without multiple tokes. When he’d bailed on the girls for months while he enjoyed his other family instead of his responsibilities to Riley and Hope my dad set up a visit with him to see them when I was in California for my first rehab stint. After arriving late and not making it on the bus the full distance, causing my dad to have to go retrieve him, he chatted up my dad’s girlfriend about penis piercings and other inappropriate topics. When he was suppose to take the girls to the park, to get him to actually spend some time with them, he all of a sudden couldn’t find his pipe and had to search for and find it before taking it with him to smoke in front of the girls per usual. He neglected his responsibilities and then the one time in my life where I was completely down and out he came in to kick me while I was on the ground.
It should have been enough for all involved parties that Riley was safe and taken care of and that I was going back to drug and alcohol treatment to address this “binge” I’d had but this bitch of a not-involved party thought she’d latch on to the now steadily floating ship and light a gasoline fueled fire on the deck. We’ll meet my mother when the saga continues.
To be continued
she said, bullshit that followed
Contradictory my dear: Grayson’s rendition of what he supposedly found at the motel are plentiful and all from his mouth negating each other. I have court documents where he says in one that there was a big bag of drugs on the bed and another where there were individually wrapped small bags and the other written version of events he claims there was only paraphernalia on the dresser.
Unbeknownst to him: There really were no drugs. OH THERE I GO LYING!! There weren’t any drugs in the front room but in the locked back room there was my heroin and meth stash hidden after being enclosed in this weird miniature boxy drawstring bag – this thing was black so I had to search for it in the dark upper corner of the closet knowing where it was. I can honestly say I have always made sure that there was no possibility of my kids getting into any drugs, accidentally or purposefully, and they were never in the same room as any drugs when they were with me (as for with their fathers I am not sure and since Grayson was getting high after he took my girls and while they were in his care as shown by a hair follicle found dirty with cocaine I am pretty positive with how I know he acts when getting high that they were in the same room as his drugs at least once and more so if you count marijuana [dabs mostly at this point in his life] and I don’t but am going to because the courts forbid his use eventually. Although they turned a blind eye to the cocaine which has always boggled my mind and really pissed me off). I’m not excusing my behavior I never should have had any drugs or ever been under the influence around my girls. I know I am in no way some innocent victim.
I knew he’d made up what he claimed to have seen as soon as the first version was available to me because it was my room and my girlfriend Tiffeny was watching the girls while I went to the store to get a fan and socks cause it was too hot to have the girls walk with me so I know there were no drugs in the main room of our motel room. If I had had drugs out there they wouldn’t have been laying out for anyone to see and these drugs were supposedly on the bed and in large quantities but that was where the girls were playing and getting their hair done. Truth be told, by Tiffeny, Grayson didn’t even go into the room but just stuck his head in the room to call the girls to come out. He barely looked up from what Tiffeny said he seemed intimidated by her (him).
Tiffeny is a transgender female (so born male but now female) who is an absolutely gorgeous, black, fit and muscular, woman but it was (haven’t seen her in years now) apparent from her body type and jawline that she had been Michael prior. For sure she could kick Grayson’s ninny ass without effort but him being fearful of her just shows what a pussy he is as she is a sweetheart and at the time he saw her she was braiding Hope’s hair. Grayson made it out to be a negative that I allowed the girls around Tiffeny and tried to bring it up in court as some form of child abuse on my part by exposing my girls to what they knew to be their female babysitter they had stay with them a couple times. It got nowhere that I ever heard about within the courts and Grayson has since apologize for trying to create an issue.
He also said there was no food or drinks and the entire table holding the TV was covered in cereal, snacks, fruit and gatorade (I got like 600$ in foodstamps back then so they weren’t hungry). That claim from him got me neglect in my case with Hope but it was only his word which for whatever reason the courts took as truth even with his inconsistent statements about there being drugs. His daddy paid out nearly $40,000 for an attorney to annihilate me and my reputation and parenting abilities in court. There is a lot not right with the case and how it worked out with the contradictory statements, some very obviously forged UAs, the drugs in his hair, and more in his favor when I had been the only parent for the year prior. That is what his daddy paid for and they won.
This was my rock bottom and I numbed myself so completely and still felt the pain. I avoided dealing with any of it by continuing to numb myself and eventually I came to accept my situation. So technically I hit the lowest point possible but I was too far gone to experience it for real. There are a lot of moving parts and people working together behind my back to see to it that I would have to do exactly what my mother wanted which included being without my kids for at least a year and a half. And that is just a part of what she did. Family is suppose to help not hurt and I learned the hard way that that wasn’t the case in mine. More on all that to come.
I don’t feel much since then and in the one instance where I did I ran back to numbing myself. I am now back at square one again but my heart’s not in it. Maybe I need to hit rock bottom for real but I don’t think I could survive any more heart-wrenching devastation or loss any time soon and preferably never. So I’ll have to figure out how to get and stay sober without my life getting worse and I think I can be okay with that.
((There is a lot more to come, this is just the beginning of the end of my life as I’d known it. I’ll tell you what, though, I learned who my friends and family really were and that I didn’t really have any of either. Strangers, people new to my life and all of which I’d known less than a month are who kept me safe and on my feet. I’ll continue to share my experiences with all of that and more. I’ll be linking stories to the events timeline (unfinished but I’m working on it) so you can get a look at the happenings I’ll be writing about. I’ll write something for every occurrence listed eventually and the list isn’t done yet.))
My life is a semi-pretty mess right now and in the past 3 years I’ve experienced some of the hardest trials I’ve had to face in life but I will keep surviving if for no other reason than: I am frikkin awesome!!
Through every hardship I knew for sure that I had three people who would love me no matter what and that made everything worth it. The unconditional love for and also from my girls is incredible and unequivocal, and then there is my love for me that only has a couple conditions haha no seriously: 1. be honest with myself always and 2. no self pity. I’m my own best friend which is lucky since I’m my only friend as well. I really believe that society would be a lot more pleasant if we all took our negativity and revamped it into opportunities for self love.
I’m at that point in my life where I fully accept me for who I am and I don’t try to be anything I’m not. I think that my early thirties have been really empowering for my psyche and my self esteem and confidence are well above where they probably should be with my position in life currently. It feels really good though and I want to share my happiness with everyone so they can hopefully experience the self assurance and acceptance with living life on life’s terms like I have found.
One thing that bothers me is when someone tells you all about how great they feel but don’t give any advice on how I could feel that way too. I believe they’re scared their mojo will run out if they go around sharing! Really that is probably a weird hang up I have and am projecting because I used to always want to have things that other people had but without doing the work to get it.
When I first typed that paragraph a few days ago I corrected myself in *PAUSE*
this is what I said: “freestyle thought mode” (isn’t that just adorable)
even better I quickly took off the tip of my tongue: “stream of consciousness” and felt super awesomely nerdy for being proud of the quickness with which it I activated my
powers of vocabulary!
I made that a little weird huh? A smidge maybe? At this point you’re starting to question how long this took me to set up to try and be cool?
Yeah I would be too.
I did mention just moments ago that I typed the previous paragraph days ago too. What kind of weird back to the future shenanigans are these?
So go to that single line above the two paragraphs above this sentence and read it. Yeah, definitely, reread that too.
I reread the whole middle part.
but now that I keep coming back to it it seems like a bad after school special. If I lost you that is understandable as I’ve explained nothing and too much at the same time. Up to speed? You’re going to get irritated in a hurry.
I was referring to the previous paragraph and what I did, that I had taught myself to do, and when I did it there, it was not consciously done, so I did it out of habit! I suck at developing habits because that means you have to do something consistently for two weeks straight and
No matter if no one ever reads this I am loving writing around myself! Everyone should try it. You’re right though I still have not explained the paragraph previous to the sentence two paragraphs above that is
What I did was, well now it’s really campy feeling… boo. I
“One thing that bothers me is when someone tells you all about how great they feel but don’t give any advice on how I could feel that way too. I believe they’re scared their mojo will run out if they go around sharing! Really that is probably a weird hang up I have and am projecting because I used to always want to have things that other people had but without doing the work to get it.”Me (I have a valley-girl voice, Clueless Alicia Silverstone… in my head reading this)
To help me learn to love myself more and keep a more positive outlook in life I started to call myself out on my own bullshit so when I lie, or if I’m copping out due to insecurities, in the moment, when they occur (weirdly grammared [it should be] sentence so I added redundancy). I’ve been doing this brutal honesty thing in my writing and in every day conversations which surprisingly hasn’t gotten weird yet, for me at least, but I’m really socially awkward and I’m always getting puzzling send offs at the end of conversations, even before. Don’t quit now I swear there is a great takeaway that you probably can figure out on your own through life and shit, you’re right, but I’ll still be here typingggg
Somehow that depicts my voice fading as you walk away. The End.
Would I leave ya like that, really?
Turn the page, it needed dramatic flair
and I just learned I can make a new page.
This is the “Continued” portion of the TBCed aLL the sobeR ladies blog post I literally just published. I got cut off my the post which I didn’t know was a thing and now I do! Here’s to experiences and learning from them!!
That sentence sums up the biggest flaw in the Women for Sobriety New Life Program, it lacks owning your character defects, admitting them all out loud to another person, and forgiving yourself while keeping our past available to reference in times of tribulation. I’ve avoided doing a 4th step like it is the plague and I would have no issue writing down my shortcomings and all my dirty laundry so long as no one is ever going to see it. For Level 2 of WFSNLP it is suggested “to write down in detail our concepts, experiences, difficulties, and feelings.” I don’t feel that the softer approach is the wrong one but I feel that WFSNLP is the set up without the follow through, recognizing the problem but not confronting and dealing with the real issues. If it were as simple as loving myself, being positive, and wanting it to stay sober I’d be years sober because I have all of that going on. That is what I see the WFSNLP providing women self confidence, empowerment, and communication skills but it isn’t nearly enough to maintain sobriety.
In the Ninth Step Promises the Big Book tells us we will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. Our past does not have to define us, who we are, or how we live our lives; we need to forgive but not forget so we don’t doom ourselves to repeat the same mistakes. That seems to be a big part of WSFNLP’s theme, starting a New life and forgetting the past. It promotes “discarding negative thoughts” instead of changing our outlook and turning a negative into a positive; again, a glaring difference is the choice to ignore and/or forget the hardships and trials in life not to do something to change them or find benefit in experiencing life in whole: the good the bad and the beautiful but especially in recovery you can’t skip the painful and/or difficult stuff.
Level 5 – Relationships improving due to being happy and positive. No duh. They don’t even touch on handling the aftermath of our actions in addiction. Seeking forgiveness and accepting responsibility don’t seem to be mentioned much within this program. It seems that a person in WFSNLP can just opt out of resolving the wreckage left by the alcoholic/addict tornado. The past is not to be worried over or to carry guilt for so add insult to injury and act as though you don’t know anything about the pain you caused everyone around you. That definitely negates the good person aspect I at least hoped was part of the program.
Then there is this drivel: “Our culture has taught us to be over-dependent on others – by attaching our self-esteem to our relationships and to approval from others. Our value as a person often depends on our relation to others and not on our own intrinsic worth. On the other hand, we fear and dread rejection and hurt. Now is the time to take risks – be open about our feelings – be vulnerable – balance giving and receiving.” So the whole idea that these exact characteristics that you claim your program relieves women of through affirmations and happy thoughts you are now using as justification to continue being oppressed like we’re in the 50’s or 40’s?
It is 2019 and the only way to survive is on a two person income, stay at home moms are on food stamps and in state afforded housing; women may not be equal but we’re running right along side men at this point. The American culture hasn’t promoted being codependent any time recently. We empower our daughters nowadays. This program is giving excuses for feeling like a person: everyone dreads rejection and hurt. And what kind of risks is a woman taking in being open about her feelings that is ALL we seem to be now. I feel like I was in a time warp reading that.
Alas, I’ve digressed. It is apparent there is a lot left to be desired from the Women for Sobriety New Life Program as a life-coach facility let alone when claiming that it is a recovery program for people suffering from alcoholism and addiction.
I’m jumping off of my soapbox and going to go fact check myself before publishing it because I don’t want to end up having missed a unicorn rocking a mohawk as that is the level of miracle I’d have to find to make the WFSNLProgram anything more than a positive thinking support group. Damn it you cast aside bad thoughts instead of changing the perspective since that is where the problem is not the tossed aside thought.
I checked and they are proud to be the worst kind of recovery program I’ve come across and I stayed in a “sober living” house with 9 other girls for 500 dollars per and 3 people in my room, this program is worse because it is knowingly leading women and girls astray with all their thorough explanations of it being an “abstinence based” program and how it adhere’s to women’s sensitivities. A disgrace is all that is. I do hope that they are able to help more than harm and its never a bad thing to address defects of character to whatever degree they write about it. I’m also all for positive thinking and affirmations which, they are for sure putting questionable values out there, but at least it is with a smile and a heart full of love.