So on Monday the 27th of February I had 30 days sober (off booze and opiates).  On Monday I also received my X-Pole in the mail.  It is fully installed and I have been dancing away for the past four days.  I am extremely sore, I have bruises all over my body - in some of the weirdest places - the tops of my feet, my stomach, behind my knees - I have a cut in my foot, and I feel fucking great!  This pole is a great investment, and it draws me to it everyday, begging for me to strip off my clothes and climb all over it.  I love my X-pole and I can’t wait to get better and better.  On another note, I dreamt last night that I sipped a rum and coke - I could actually taste the rum, in the dream I took one sip, strangely confused at the taste thinking I was about to sip whiskey, I put the glass down and immediately felt embarrassed and ashamed.   

For real - I just made one of the biggest purchases of my life.  Not entirely of cost, but of meaning.  Tonight I purchased an X-pole X-pert POLE!!!  Holy shit, I cannot believe I finally did it, and soon my dreams will be coming true.  Impulsive? Maybe - but fuck yeah!!!  Sorry - had to express the joy to the world, but not necessarily one that knows me personally!

“That’s the sound of a bottle when it’s hollow
When you swallow it all wollow and drown in your sorrow
And tomorrow you’re probably gonna want to do it again
What’s a little spinal fluid between you and a friend? Screw it
And what’s a little bit of alcohol poisoning?
And what’s a little fight? Tomorrow you’ll be boys again
It’s your life, live it however you wanna
Mari-ju-uana is everywhere, where was you brought up?
It don’t matter as long as you get where you’re goin
Cause none of this shit is gonna mean shit where we’re goin
They tell you to stop, but you just sit there ignorin
Even though you wake up feelin like shit every mornin”

Eminem - “Drug Ballad”

So, I have now been 22 days sober off alcohol and opiates.  Going out tonight to see my “friends” I didn’t stick around for long, but I realized - I can’t handle that shit.  I love some of these girls dearly - but, like the lyrics in the song I posted above “They tell you to stop, but you just sit there ignoring, even though you wake up feeling like shit every morning”.  Now that is not to say that my girlfriends wake up feeling like shit, or they have drinking problems - but god-damn - I did.  And it’s nice to finally not regret things I did, or be hung over, or cry, or get suicidally hopeless, or all of the above.  It may be too early to tell - but since I cleaned up I have not lied awake crying, thinking of death and allowing destructive thoughts to run my mind.  I had that moment of clarity, if you will, tonight.  That even though I still struggle - I’m a lot fucking happier than I was the past month or two, and secretly I’m a little scared it’s because I’m “sober”.  I don’t want to give up drinking forever - but I know that I need to surround myself with different people - and that is sad.  I’ve lived in this town for 5 years now, and I feel like I’m growing out of it.  I need to grow up.  I think I can still have fun with alcohol at some point, but in reality - I need to grow the fuck up and start taking care of my shit and learn how to be happy without substances.   

Awww - fuck this.  I’ve been having a pretty good week.  I also haven’t written in that week.  Over all been pretty positive, no tears.  Still staying up - but luckily not those 7am nights, more like 5am at the latest.  I have to assume “cleaning up” has something to do with it.  The cravings are still increasingly present, especially after a busy night at work, or a fight with friends.  I’m not going to meetings - yeah yeah, I know.  I keep wanting to call a friend of mine to ask his permission to drink.  Like, if he says it’s okay - it really is okay, I know better - and luckily both times I have actually called to ask him he didn’t pick up.  I’ve been sober off both the pills and booze since Jan. 27th.  That makes today day 16, a little over two weeks.  What is my goal?  The month of February, is what I “sort of” told myself.  Then what?  I don’t want to be sober forever, is that fucked up to say?  How will I feel if I drink tonight, or call a dealer tomorrow?  What if I do it responsibly?  Is that possible, for me?  

I went to bed early last night, 3am, with the hopes of rising and making some use of the day before I had to go to work.  Instead my dreams sucked me into a 12 hour nap.  I woke crying.  Tears streaming down my face.  The dream was of a long class trip.  I had forgotten many items, and with permission I left class early to go get supplies before we took off.  I went to my old home - the Green House.  I went inside, there was a puppy.  Looking around I went upstairs into my old bedroom.  My mother was curled up in my bed.  I walked around to the side of the bed, she opened her eyes and looked at me.  I got  onto the bed and cuddled in with her, tears running down my face.  I snapped awake and realized I was really crying.  If only I could bury my head into my mothers chest one more time, embrace her once more - would I ever let go?

Dreamt last night I was holding hands with a man - in the back of a car being chased by police I might add, but…  I’m not sure who he was, but the dream danced in and out of a playful romantic chase.  I kept sleeping, I guess, so I could continue our exchanges.  It has been a long time since I last held someone’s hand, playing with it - as my stomach turned over and over again with those 1st encounter feelings.  I know I am not ready for a new relationship, a huge part of me fears starting over, another part of me wonders if I can fix myself in time to save my old one, which just ended - again.  This dream though gave me some sort of hope - that I will feel that feeling again, the one where you touch and everything else goes away.  A part of me longs for that touch everyday.  Guess I’ll just have to make due in the meantime…

“I’m going to get sober.” Or maybe, “This relationship will work - sooner or later.”

Maybe they are not promises that I have made to anyone, but instead vows or things I have told myself will work or I will do.  Bare with me.  I’m sure there are many more I have made, but for now these weigh heavy on my mind.  

What I type out, or what I write out, are thoughts that come from my inside my own head - I must own them, and I do.  The internet is a funny thing.  Would he still be mad if I had written that and he had never saw it?  Would he still be mad if I had thought that and never written it?  It doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that I was drunk, and I wrote something that I thought, and possibly felt.  I didn’t write it or feel it because I was drunk.  But in the end I hurt another person, and the same relationship again - with alcohol induced nights.  Another sign I can’t afford to ignore.

I’m tired of it.  The tears, the loneliness.  I am a beautiful person that deserves to be loved, and to love in return.  I have enjoyed life before, why can’t I now?  My head is filled with unkind thoughts of myself.  I fear for the possibilities that lay ahead, I feel hopeless, apathetic.  That’s bad - because things aren’t that bad.  Maybe this recognition can be the spark beneath my ass for me to spur some change within myself.  But again, I don’t want to make empty promises.  

I’m off the pills - been about a week or so (I know I have a date recorded somewhere). I felt ill.  Had dreams and dreams.  Most recently I dreamt of smoking heroin with a friend, who in reality shipped himself to treatment over a month ago.  I’ve done this before, play with that thin red line. Stopping and starting.  I told myself today that I am going to attempt again to quit drinking too.  The thought of this, coupled with my already unstable happiness is frightening.  I will lose most, if not all, of my friends.  I will have to relearn how to interact with people, without drugs or alcohol.  

There are so many things I must do, it is overwhelming.  Ten years ago, when I was 13, I was diagnosed as Manic Depressive and prescribed anti-seizure/mood stabilizers.  Many things happened but ultimately I went through a few different medications, was kicked out of school 2 weeks into my freshman year, and was sent to treatment.  There I met a young guy who refused his medications.  I followed suit.  Years of ups and downs followed, still follow - but I’m still alive.  I know I use drugs and alcohol - and I have studied the effects and damage they can do to a persons mind and body chemistry.  But I can’t help but wonder now, as things unravel yet again about the diagnosis.  What came first the substance abuse or the mental illness?  Am I really what they said I was? And what does that mean for how I attempt to make myself better?  

Why the fuck am I writing this all on the internet?  Who knows - we all need support sometimes, and sometimes it comes from unlikely places - maybe a stranger can help me change my life…

Forgive me for my thoughts.