Relapse Chronicles, Part 3

When I close my eyes, I see my daughters’ faces, their eyes pleading with me to put an end to the self-destruction that’s been ruling my life. I lie in my bed in the fetal position, my limbs jerking uncontrollably. The fog is taking over, and I know that the real pain is inching closer with each passing moment. I drift in and out of sleep, in and out of the dreams that feel like reality but sadly are not.

I sit in the bottom of the shower, too weak to clean myself. I sit there and I cry, and the steady stream of warm water feels like God smiling upon me. I sit naked in the bottom of my shower, my hands folded together in prayer for the courage and strength to get through this once and for all.

I close my eyes and I see their faces. I know that it will undoubtedly get worse, but it will also get better. My only chance in life is to continue down this path until I reach complete sobriety, and to chase it each day with the determination that I possessed when I was actively using drugs.

Tonight I will lie down without the false security that drugs gave me, and I will be okay. I will continue to close my eyes and picture the faces of the people that I love, because that’s what life is truly about.


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Relapse Chronicles, Part 1

This is my story.


I’ve learned more about myself and about life and love in the past two months than I ever considered possible. It’s been a long road that I’ve been traveling along, and it’s time to go home.

It started with a bad decision. It seems as though all things in my life begin that way, but this particular choice would take me to a place that I wasn’t ready to go, to a place I thought I had long ago escaped. It would take me there, take everything from me, and then leave me lost, lonely, desperate, but I am not the victim.

I never was the victim. I was not the prey but the perpetrator. I am the black sheep and I am the wolf, baring my teeth to the world and sobbing in despair in the prison of solitude that I have created for myself.

It started with a bad decision, a desire that I gave into after years of pushing it away with all of my might. It was one of the most detrimental choices I’ve ever made, and I’ve made a lot of them in my 35 years on this planet. I went back, I gave in, I fell down, and I thought that I would never get back up again.

I went back to the place where it all began so many years ago. I went back for closure, for something new, for love. I went back with uncertainty and with hope, with fear and longing. I knew I should not have gone, but I went back.

I lied to everyone that I loved so that I could see him. I lied and they believed my stories, and I let the guilt pile up inside of me until that’s all there was. I became the kind of dishonest person that I’d always despised, the type of person that would do anything to get what they wanted. I was changing into someone I was ashamed of, someone I hated with all of my being but could not escape from. I was transforming into the person I used to be.

All of these years I thought that I would never get over him. I romanticized our relationship to the point that no one could ever be what he was to me. I knew that no one would love me the same way or make me feel the things that he did. And no one will because the love I thought we shared was a lie, a trick of the imagination that left a gaping void in my heart that nothing could fill.


The story goes on, as does life. Follow me as I shed this skin and become the person I am meant to be.

Thank you for being a part of this journey.


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Giving Zero Fucks.

I haven’t written anything in quite a while because I’ve been stifled. I’ve been stifled by the assholes of the world, including myself, and have retreated into a dark hole that sucks the creativity out of me with a force that knocks me off of my feet.

I am clawing my way out of this hole, making small progress each day until the time comes when I won’t feel its sharp nails sinking into the flesh of my mind. Maybe that day will come soon. I can only hope that it does.

I’ve been thinking about how to hold onto my creative voice a lot lately, and this is what I’ve come up with:

People are dicks. People judge, people lurk in the figurative shadows waiting to find that one piece of information to throw in your face. People fucking suck, but how does one rise above it? How do you continue to write/create without fear of being judged by others?

The time has come in my life to do what makes me happy. I have to take a step back sometimes and look at my existence from the outside to know that it really doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. People will always judge me for what I write, how I write it, and I can’t change that. I can only love myself, live my life, and strive each day to give zero fucks.

 

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Mister Brown.

No matter how hard I try, Aaron is the one thing (besides drug addiction) that will haunt me forever. He shows up in my dreams, and in my weakest moments, I reach out to him, destroying whatever trust I’ve built up with my fiancé.

I know that it’s not logically worth risking my relationship over, but there’s something inside me that begs me to go on, to call him, to text him, to see him. It takes over my sensibility from time to time, and I cave in, only to regret it the next day.

Am I still in love with him? Is it those deep brown eyes that continue to draw me in after all these years? Or is it that he showed me what it was like to be completely possessed by addiction.. to be distraught and to have nothing, and to go on anyway?

There are times that I wish the memories would fade away and that I would be able to finally forget him, but most of the time I wish I could remember more.

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How to Deal with Non-Believers

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I honestly don’t think there’s anyone out there who truly believes in me, except for myself, of course. My fiancé has brought up the fact that I may never sell one copy of any of my books (already sold two, bitch). He supports my writing, but has no confidence that I will be able to make a living doing it.

There are times when his lack of faith in me makes me feel like shit. I mean, he is the person I plan on marrying one day, and if anyone in the entire world believed in me, you’d think it would be him.

I try to shake his negativity off. I try to work as hard as I can. I try to write the best chapters of my life in the hopes that I will be able to prove all the non-believers wrong. I will make a living writing, or I’ll die trying.

I’m sure this is an issue for many of you who are pursuing your dreams, and so I look around at the successful people in the world and remember that there were people who didn’t believe in them either.

It spurs me on, and I hope it does the same for you.

 

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The Way to His Heart

me and jason

This is my fiancé, Jason. We’ve been together for about four years now. We get excited to watch television series on Netflix or Hulu, and we enjoy playing with our two small dogs in our extremely modest one bedroom apartment in Dallas, Texas.

It’s been clear for quite some time that the way to Jason’s heart isn’t through his penis, which is weird for me, because that’s been the way to EVERY man’s heart that I’ve been with prior to meeting him. He’s taken me out of my comfort zone where blow jobs are the best way to end fights, and I’ve actually had to learn how to be an adult in a relationship.

The way to Jason’s heart is through bacon. And xbox and professional wrestling and being as normal a couple as we can be. And I’m finally okay with that.

There’s a point in life when I think we all start to evolve into our true selves. The things we once thought would make us happy, the things we thought we needed no longer pull at us in the way that they once did, and we become who we are truly meant to be.

 

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