Ok so I went back and read the last 2 blogs and it is hard for me to believe that was my life. That was my life? Living it seems like such a distant memory. I am so not that person today. How did this switch happen? How is it that I was able to get it together in such a way that reading these things I did and places I have been seem like another life? Thinking about it makes me shudder. I am getting real close to the next phase of my life. Which by most standards is still outrageous and bazaar. My life is one of a cuckoos nest. So let me get to it today. The next chapter at least shines hope on my life. Right now where I am at, it is bleak. I was so hopeless. So lost. Without a clue how to make it different.
I arrived back in Brenham still in a daze from the whirlwind of events that I had been through. I was sad, very sad. Holding back tears on that drive was impossible. The fear of not knowing what was coming up was so overwhelming. Thoughts were swirling in my head. That drive took forever and I didn't exactly know where I was going. No contact with my family for so long, the feeling that I would be rejected was something that very well could have been a reality. Stopping at a road side park to think for a while. It was a place I had been to many times. Walking among the rocks in the dry creek bed scared and alone. Don't think I was clean, because I wasn't. I still had coke on me and not doing it was not an option. I was addicted to it. I kept doing it. Although it was so different. The fun was gone. I was alone and keeping up with the pace that cocaine sets for you is not ever easy. I remember sitting in that roadside park crying watching the cars go by on the highway looking at each one thinking maybe, just maybe, Cindy would drive by on her way to her mothers and I could go with her. I couldn't keep one thought together. Everything was scattered. I was probably having withdrawals from the lack of crack.
The one thing I could think of was that I needed to visit the grave of my fiance. From the moment he so tragically died I was on the run. I had not looked back. I had not dealt with his passing. The pain was great and I needed to see his grave for myself. A year had passed and I was at my bottom that day. In all reality I didn't even know where he was buried. That day, the day we buried him was so far pushed back into my memory that I couldn't remember. I eventually found it and parked trying to remember where I was that day in the cemetery. I remember the tent, and the people, and could envision in my head where I thought it was. When I couldn't find his marker something happened in me. I fell apart there in the cemetery all alone, I fell to pieces. Crying hysterically and searching for his name anywhere. Going from grave to grave crying and talking to myself. Begging. I was in a state of panic. I could not have been in the wrong place. He had to be there. I finally found a bench to sit on and sat there completely defeated. Head hung, completely exhausted and sobbing. I don't know how much time passed before being able to regroup and trying to recollect where he could be I had already looked where I thought he was. Going back one more time before I left, I found it. He didn't have a headstone. All he had was a metal spike sticking out of the ground with his name on it which was overgrown with foliage. I sat there for a while praying and crying and wishing that he had not left this world. This makes my eyes sting with tears still to this day. I was so alone and afraid. Had no idea how to live my life. There was no end in sight to this madness I was in. I had to leave. I couldn't stay there. Getting in my car not feeling any better, if not worse, than when I came I pulled out of the cemetery driveway and caught site of a car sitting on the side of the road. It was his mother. How long had she been there? She was watching me. Watching me in hysterics running all over the place. Watched me fall apart. Watched me do drugs. I had to do drugs. I was running solely on them. I had no sleep. I was living on maybe 1 or 2 hours of sleep a day for a long time now. I was ashamed. I left but not before we made eye contact. I found out later in life that she was never ever able to get over his death. She could not speak to me without becoming saddened by what could have been. The grand baby we didn't give her. The marriage that never happened. The life her son might have had if I had done things differently.
Seems like such a long day in my life. Going through it in my head I know it was all in the same day. After leaving the cemetery I for whatever reason thought that I could go to the movies. I bought ticket to see Schindler's list. Sitting through this became impossible. How could I sit through an entire movie without having to do more coke. I made it about 45 minutes in and walked out. I still to this day have never seen this movie.
Drove to my trusted friends from the past. The older group that I had long ago been separated from. They had become afraid of me because I was a trouble maker and they liked the way there life was. I had nowhere else to go. When I arrived there I could sense immediately I was not welcome. Although none of them came right out and said it I knew. Called a friend and asked what was wrong with them. They thought I had broken in to there home and stolen money and drugs. I hadn't but they didn't seem to care. So I left.
Where do I go? It was getting late and I was losing steam. I needed to get to sleep and soon. I considered sleeping in my car but was too paranoid. So, I drove home. The only place I knew to go. It had been a long time and a hard road since I had last seen my parents and full well expected not to be welcome. They had already changed all the locks in the house to keep me from stealing. So when I pulled into the driveway and looked at my bedroom door, which had an outside entrance, it was cracked open. She had left it open for me like all the times before. I couldn't believe they still wanted me. I was not worthy,but I went in anyway. My mother was awake and must have heard me or seen the lights because she came to my room and I basically fell into her arms crying. She kept asking what was wrong and I could not speak to her. I could not tell her. What would I say? She pushed no further and saw me to bed.
I full well intended on covering more than one day in my life but this is what came out. One day. One of the lousiest days of my life. A breakthrough in a way. My life was not ok, I was not ok. This life I had forced on myself was full of regret and pain and loneliness. There was no amount of drugs that could cover this mess I made of myself. Shredded. My soul and spirit was shredded. How was I to pick up the pieces and reassemble my life? Did I have the tools to do this? Not at that moment I didn't. Things never got worse than that day, but I surely wasn't capable of making them better. Something had to happen to change my life. It does, but not this day.
Till the next time.....
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
WOUNDED AND LIMPING
If anyone knows anything about drugs and addiction they know that it is progressive. What once worked to cover your pain, quickly becomes not enough. Most people can't afford to keep this up and end up in a life of crime. Losing all of their wordly belongings. Selling their bodies to keep up with the pace. Homeless and mentally ill. This should have happened to me. In all reality looking back at the things I did and the company I kept I should not be here today. I was spared. There was a plan set for my life and no amount of me trying to thwart that plan was going to work. Oh, and I tried.
This is coming to an end. Things get worse before they get better, right? Well they did here. Now that the group was so small I started introducing some of my hard hitting friends from Austin to them. They were established drug addicts. Been at it for years. Could see the freshness on the faces of these kids. Basically, I was bringing the lamb to slaughter. Could not have foreseen the things to come. One big thing was crack. I was smoking it now and then, with this guy who was a child star. Played in the Lord of the Flies as the leader of the bad tribe. Did a few ads after that and went into drugs. He was the lead singer for a band that I followed named Cornpone. This guy was something else. Greatly addicted and hard hitting when it came to getting what he wanted. Once he heard about the money he was right there with me. Leaching on.
In the meantime the guy with the money had become scarily skinny and would only stay in bed with his black satin boxers on. Ordering people around. Trying to be dominate. Trying to maintain control. People would bring him food and drugs and drink and smokes. He became very rude and controlling. Would have complete control of the music and the drugs. Lining people up for the line of coke. It was bazaar and it didn't affect me because I was the one getting him the drugs. So, of course I had my cut before he ever saw it. I played along with his weird ways for as long as he felt it necessary to do so. I named him Elvis. He didn't like that I called him that but that is who he was. He bought all of his friends and used his money as power over them. It worked, people did what he said. A lot of them never left the room we stayed in. I got to leave to get the dope. Able to move freely about. Go to 6th street and visit friends. Some of them never left and if they crossed him they would be booted from the group.
On one of these many nights of coke and acid and too many people in the room. He caught me and my buddy in the closet smoking crack. This was not Elvis approved and he went into a fit. All he ever wanted was to be accepted and if that meant we had to make him feel like this too was a good thing and he should try it. Making him feel as if he was the center of attention then he would calm down. He did, it worked, he tried it. Wow! from that minute on every day all day we smoked crack. I was getting him around 3 to 5 grand a day worth of crack. Putting myself in great danger.
Me, myself and I would drive to the slummiest part of town and go into crack houses to purchase crack for them. This was not territory I was familiar with. A crack house is a lot like what you see on T.V. No furniture, very dark. People sitting around on the floors smoking the little bit of rock they just bought or bartered for. It was eery and I was always scared when going in. Crack is a whole other world. People kill for crack, for a hit of crack. It makes you into a monster for the most part. Day after Day I went in there. They knew me and the crackheads knew, that when I came in, to get up and leave. Wait outside. I was not buying a 20 piece not a couple hundred worth. I was there and I was buying thousands at a time. Everyday. Day after Day. Night after night. I felt like I was getting a target on my back. I could be jumped when I came out. One bullet is all it would take and I knew it and was taking the chance.
One day when I arrived back at the motel. Things were out of sorts. They were outside of the room waiting on me. I found out that the police had been there and Elvis had been taken to jail. Basically he had skipped bond on that charge in Brenham and they came to get him. Didn't go into the room. No one else was arrested. We were in a pickle. A few days before this we had gone to the bank with Elvis where he had sold some of his Coca-Cola stocks and we walked out with 65 grand in cash. By this time also his family was trying desperately to cut him off. So this was it. We had the money and his Mercedes.
Time for a meeting. I sent everyone packing but 3 of us and came up with and idea that this money was too much money for just one of us to carry. We needed to split it up in case one of us got arrested. The other 2 guys agreed and we split it. We each ended up with about 15 grand each in our pockets. Oh, what I would do with that money today. How stupid I was.
It took about 3 weeks for all of us to go through all the money. The events that took place during this time are a blur to me. We were super paranoid. Switching hotel rooms sometimes 2 and 3 times a day. Sleep deprived. I don't remember sleeping. Twice I remember sleeping because I was so scared of being robbed of this money, that it was taking that chance when you closed your eyes. Everyone was skeptical of the other. We parted soon after one of my friends (the child star) planned a robbery. Had this drug addict come to our room and try to get money from us. I wouldn't know this until later, when I found the money he said the guy stole, in his possession. I felt betrayed. This was my buddy. He put our lives in danger. We could have been killed over that.
One other thing I did during this time because all of my friends I had once had could no longer stand to be around me. I was alone. Me and my money. I went one day to buy crack from this house and out comes this tall, skinny, blond. Asked me for a ride. Said she was stranded there the night before. So I took her with me. I had a new best friend. Her name was Angel. I am not kidding and I do believe she was a hooker. I took her shopping and she ended up staying with us for a while in the room. She was an intravenous drug user and it was such an ugly sight. Using the same needle over and over again. I felt dirty. I never used needles in all the days of my drug use ever, but knew a lot of people that did. I am grateful I never did.
Coming to an end all of it became very clear what was to happen. I was in trouble. I had not been to a probation meeting since the first one. My intention was to go home talk to my parents, who have had no idea where I have been during this time ,and get it together. I had seen enough, I had done enough, I was enormously alone and sad. I mean come on I had resorted to having hookers for friends. I had no friends. The one I thought I had tried to rob me and the others were just plain tired of my crap. I was a wounded animal and went limping home. This should have been it, right? No, not so much. I will carry on in my next post. I need to think. I do feel better getting through that time though I feel like I need a shower.
This is coming to an end. Things get worse before they get better, right? Well they did here. Now that the group was so small I started introducing some of my hard hitting friends from Austin to them. They were established drug addicts. Been at it for years. Could see the freshness on the faces of these kids. Basically, I was bringing the lamb to slaughter. Could not have foreseen the things to come. One big thing was crack. I was smoking it now and then, with this guy who was a child star. Played in the Lord of the Flies as the leader of the bad tribe. Did a few ads after that and went into drugs. He was the lead singer for a band that I followed named Cornpone. This guy was something else. Greatly addicted and hard hitting when it came to getting what he wanted. Once he heard about the money he was right there with me. Leaching on.
In the meantime the guy with the money had become scarily skinny and would only stay in bed with his black satin boxers on. Ordering people around. Trying to be dominate. Trying to maintain control. People would bring him food and drugs and drink and smokes. He became very rude and controlling. Would have complete control of the music and the drugs. Lining people up for the line of coke. It was bazaar and it didn't affect me because I was the one getting him the drugs. So, of course I had my cut before he ever saw it. I played along with his weird ways for as long as he felt it necessary to do so. I named him Elvis. He didn't like that I called him that but that is who he was. He bought all of his friends and used his money as power over them. It worked, people did what he said. A lot of them never left the room we stayed in. I got to leave to get the dope. Able to move freely about. Go to 6th street and visit friends. Some of them never left and if they crossed him they would be booted from the group.
On one of these many nights of coke and acid and too many people in the room. He caught me and my buddy in the closet smoking crack. This was not Elvis approved and he went into a fit. All he ever wanted was to be accepted and if that meant we had to make him feel like this too was a good thing and he should try it. Making him feel as if he was the center of attention then he would calm down. He did, it worked, he tried it. Wow! from that minute on every day all day we smoked crack. I was getting him around 3 to 5 grand a day worth of crack. Putting myself in great danger.
Me, myself and I would drive to the slummiest part of town and go into crack houses to purchase crack for them. This was not territory I was familiar with. A crack house is a lot like what you see on T.V. No furniture, very dark. People sitting around on the floors smoking the little bit of rock they just bought or bartered for. It was eery and I was always scared when going in. Crack is a whole other world. People kill for crack, for a hit of crack. It makes you into a monster for the most part. Day after Day I went in there. They knew me and the crackheads knew, that when I came in, to get up and leave. Wait outside. I was not buying a 20 piece not a couple hundred worth. I was there and I was buying thousands at a time. Everyday. Day after Day. Night after night. I felt like I was getting a target on my back. I could be jumped when I came out. One bullet is all it would take and I knew it and was taking the chance.
One day when I arrived back at the motel. Things were out of sorts. They were outside of the room waiting on me. I found out that the police had been there and Elvis had been taken to jail. Basically he had skipped bond on that charge in Brenham and they came to get him. Didn't go into the room. No one else was arrested. We were in a pickle. A few days before this we had gone to the bank with Elvis where he had sold some of his Coca-Cola stocks and we walked out with 65 grand in cash. By this time also his family was trying desperately to cut him off. So this was it. We had the money and his Mercedes.
Time for a meeting. I sent everyone packing but 3 of us and came up with and idea that this money was too much money for just one of us to carry. We needed to split it up in case one of us got arrested. The other 2 guys agreed and we split it. We each ended up with about 15 grand each in our pockets. Oh, what I would do with that money today. How stupid I was.
It took about 3 weeks for all of us to go through all the money. The events that took place during this time are a blur to me. We were super paranoid. Switching hotel rooms sometimes 2 and 3 times a day. Sleep deprived. I don't remember sleeping. Twice I remember sleeping because I was so scared of being robbed of this money, that it was taking that chance when you closed your eyes. Everyone was skeptical of the other. We parted soon after one of my friends (the child star) planned a robbery. Had this drug addict come to our room and try to get money from us. I wouldn't know this until later, when I found the money he said the guy stole, in his possession. I felt betrayed. This was my buddy. He put our lives in danger. We could have been killed over that.
One other thing I did during this time because all of my friends I had once had could no longer stand to be around me. I was alone. Me and my money. I went one day to buy crack from this house and out comes this tall, skinny, blond. Asked me for a ride. Said she was stranded there the night before. So I took her with me. I had a new best friend. Her name was Angel. I am not kidding and I do believe she was a hooker. I took her shopping and she ended up staying with us for a while in the room. She was an intravenous drug user and it was such an ugly sight. Using the same needle over and over again. I felt dirty. I never used needles in all the days of my drug use ever, but knew a lot of people that did. I am grateful I never did.
Coming to an end all of it became very clear what was to happen. I was in trouble. I had not been to a probation meeting since the first one. My intention was to go home talk to my parents, who have had no idea where I have been during this time ,and get it together. I had seen enough, I had done enough, I was enormously alone and sad. I mean come on I had resorted to having hookers for friends. I had no friends. The one I thought I had tried to rob me and the others were just plain tired of my crap. I was a wounded animal and went limping home. This should have been it, right? No, not so much. I will carry on in my next post. I need to think. I do feel better getting through that time though I feel like I need a shower.
HEADING FOR THE HILLS
Time to look back and get on with this story. I am anxious to get through with this chapter of my life. Almost to the point to where I just want to rush through it. Discipline and control is what I am having to conjure up not to skip it. Hoping that the words will flow onto this page and get me through it. So much to cover, can't put it all down. I must touch on what I feel was so dangerous for me and hurtful and telling of what state of mind I was in at the time. All of the fluff will be left out. Here we go...
It was a hot summer, trying to find relief from the heat was not an easy thing to do. I didn't want to be home with my parents. I had no place of my own. Spending most of my days out in the heat. Riding around with friends but trying to preserve gas so a lot of it was spent loitering in parking lots. One particular store in fact, where this raunchy group of people met up for the day to plan the evening events. I was there a lot. Seemed to me more than others. Just waiting,absorbing the heat from the asphalt and smoking cigarettes. We ran that store into the ground. The locals would no longer use it for there gas and conveniences as we always seemed to be there looking grungy and well probably scary. It was our store or so we thought.
I had noticed one day sitting there that this guy came rumbling into the parking lot on a ninja motorcycle followed closely by 4 other guys on the same type of bike. This was something alright. A sight to see. I quickly asked who these people were and was informed that this one guy had purchased all of these bikes for his buddies. He was,i think,17 at the time, not from this town but from an even smaller one down the road. Come to find out he had come into an inheritance and was blowing it faster than anything I had ever seen. Throwing parties and paying for every ones beer and smokes. There was no end to it.
I said that day sitting in the heat on that curb that I needed to meet him and that I needed to introduce him to cocaine. Didn't take long for me to make myself noticed around him and all he wanted was to be cool. Be accepted. I accepted him and we began what would be this life altering journey for the both of us. Using lots of drugs and way too much alcohol. His group consisted of people that I would have never ever considered hanging out with ever. Very Vanilla Ice. I was so far from that but somehow all that didn't matter to me. Dollar signs were floating around in the air and I could smell it.
This was my ticket out of Brenham. My relationship with him and all of his "group" was strictly platonic. They had plenty of girls come and go from that group that were being used up and spit out. What started out as partying quickly became a game of hide and seek from the local police. Always staying in motels for days at a time. We lived in filth. I remember that. What started with drinking a lot quickly turned to smoking pot. A lot. Getting him to accept cocaine was more of a feat. He was very against it, all he knew was that it was bad. Parts of me still to this day feels very remorseful for pushing it. Pushing it into there faces and doing it in front of them making them see that it was not going to hurt them. How naive was I to think it wasn't going to hurt me.
That night he tried it and that was it. Mission accomplished. What I had set out to do and the result of this was exactly what I had planned. First line he was hooked, couldn't get enough. All the huge parties stopped and we were whittled down to a group of about 13-20 depending on the night and sometimes fewer. Living in this small town it didn't take long for the cops to figure out who we were and they had there eye on us. Paranoia was something that became an everyday event. Always on the move. Not trusting anyone new that came into the picture. He did end up getting arrested for being in possession. Got out immediately and we were off. It was time to go somewhere else.
How about Austin? Why not. They seemed to listen to what I had to say because I was older for one and more experienced. Master manipulator is one of the things that comes with being a drug addict. I had learned from the best living in Austin. This had only just begun. Seemed this kid had unlimited amounts of money. We were able to get just about whatever he wanted. At this point in time I was right where I wanted to be. I was high everyday,had zero responsibility and was not hurting for cash. When I say money, most people don't really get it. This kid was left a fortune. Millions, and was allowed to access it at age 16. What were his parents thinking? We blew through thousands of dollars everyday. He was supporting about 13 people. Along with there drug habits.
He bought cars for some of them and the bikes. Once we arrived in Austin we were staying at the Marriott and other hotels splurging on room service for every meal. It was something I could not believe was really happening. We were living like rock stars. They did not know this town and I did. I knew where to get the drugs and quickly stepped up my status in the group. One of the things that needed to change was the amount of people in the group. Thirteen is too many to cart around and keep up with all the time.
There were times when things didn't go too smoothly. We were all on hard drugs day after day and people were bound to get worn down. Not only was our consumption of coke getting up there but we were also dropping acid. Buying it by the sheets of 100 hits. People were starting to drop like flies and heading back to the country. It was intense, and acid in the wrong environment can send you running for the hills. Others were not so lucky and were having seizures. Others were curled up in the fetal position at the end of the bed. Truly gruesome and very much a reality in the drug world. You don't care about others and how they feel. You expect it to wear off,most of the time it did. None of which stopped us from getting on with the days events. Making a pact ,that we all agreed upon, if any of us were to die during one of the marathon drug binges we would drop the body at a dumpster and that was that. It made complete sense at the time.
One particular time I made the ultimate decision to help out one of them, was the one that kept having the seizures. He had another and this time wasn't coming out of it. He dislocated his shoulder in the process of waling around the room in a fit and was hurt and from the looks of it in a lot of pain although he couldn't talk. He just clung to me. I was the only woman in the room. This kid was a friend of mines, little brother. The others wanted to leave, and I remember his dark brown eyes with his pupils dilated to about the size of his iris and how he was pleading with me for help. It was if he had a stroke. No words would come out. I took him and put him in my car drove him to the hospital emergency room and waited. After a while the doctor came out and asked me " Have yall been doing drugs?" Of course I told him "yes" and he said "He is pretty messed up." I remember the look the doctor gave us. It made me feel shame and fear. " He will be staying." the doctor finally told us. I gave them some info about him and we left. I have never seen him again, to this day. I know he is ok and I know he spent about 3 weeks in the hospital after that incident. I know it changed the dynamic of the group. More people went back home and we were left with about 5.
This did not stop us. To the contrary. We never looked back. Although the party was over, the ugly head of addiction was rearing up and about to devour us whole. Money money money. That is all you need to be a drug addict. That and some serious emotional issues that drugs make go away. A deadly combo. My heart is hurting from writing about this. I do have regrets about this. What was wrong with me. Why was I so cold? Where was my heart? Even though I took that kid to the hospital that means nothing. He may have died otherwise. I know that. But, I still feel like a freaking boogie man for getting all this crap for these kids. They were still kids. They were my daughters age. I am ashamed of that. This is something I haven't really thought of before. I have always told these stories.Over and over. Leaving out any of my own responsibility for the mess around me. hmmm...Maybe just maybe I am getting somewhere. I was a lousy person in those days. Self absorbed. Greedy and careless.
It was a hot summer, trying to find relief from the heat was not an easy thing to do. I didn't want to be home with my parents. I had no place of my own. Spending most of my days out in the heat. Riding around with friends but trying to preserve gas so a lot of it was spent loitering in parking lots. One particular store in fact, where this raunchy group of people met up for the day to plan the evening events. I was there a lot. Seemed to me more than others. Just waiting,absorbing the heat from the asphalt and smoking cigarettes. We ran that store into the ground. The locals would no longer use it for there gas and conveniences as we always seemed to be there looking grungy and well probably scary. It was our store or so we thought.
I had noticed one day sitting there that this guy came rumbling into the parking lot on a ninja motorcycle followed closely by 4 other guys on the same type of bike. This was something alright. A sight to see. I quickly asked who these people were and was informed that this one guy had purchased all of these bikes for his buddies. He was,i think,17 at the time, not from this town but from an even smaller one down the road. Come to find out he had come into an inheritance and was blowing it faster than anything I had ever seen. Throwing parties and paying for every ones beer and smokes. There was no end to it.
I said that day sitting in the heat on that curb that I needed to meet him and that I needed to introduce him to cocaine. Didn't take long for me to make myself noticed around him and all he wanted was to be cool. Be accepted. I accepted him and we began what would be this life altering journey for the both of us. Using lots of drugs and way too much alcohol. His group consisted of people that I would have never ever considered hanging out with ever. Very Vanilla Ice. I was so far from that but somehow all that didn't matter to me. Dollar signs were floating around in the air and I could smell it.
This was my ticket out of Brenham. My relationship with him and all of his "group" was strictly platonic. They had plenty of girls come and go from that group that were being used up and spit out. What started out as partying quickly became a game of hide and seek from the local police. Always staying in motels for days at a time. We lived in filth. I remember that. What started with drinking a lot quickly turned to smoking pot. A lot. Getting him to accept cocaine was more of a feat. He was very against it, all he knew was that it was bad. Parts of me still to this day feels very remorseful for pushing it. Pushing it into there faces and doing it in front of them making them see that it was not going to hurt them. How naive was I to think it wasn't going to hurt me.
That night he tried it and that was it. Mission accomplished. What I had set out to do and the result of this was exactly what I had planned. First line he was hooked, couldn't get enough. All the huge parties stopped and we were whittled down to a group of about 13-20 depending on the night and sometimes fewer. Living in this small town it didn't take long for the cops to figure out who we were and they had there eye on us. Paranoia was something that became an everyday event. Always on the move. Not trusting anyone new that came into the picture. He did end up getting arrested for being in possession. Got out immediately and we were off. It was time to go somewhere else.
How about Austin? Why not. They seemed to listen to what I had to say because I was older for one and more experienced. Master manipulator is one of the things that comes with being a drug addict. I had learned from the best living in Austin. This had only just begun. Seemed this kid had unlimited amounts of money. We were able to get just about whatever he wanted. At this point in time I was right where I wanted to be. I was high everyday,had zero responsibility and was not hurting for cash. When I say money, most people don't really get it. This kid was left a fortune. Millions, and was allowed to access it at age 16. What were his parents thinking? We blew through thousands of dollars everyday. He was supporting about 13 people. Along with there drug habits.
He bought cars for some of them and the bikes. Once we arrived in Austin we were staying at the Marriott and other hotels splurging on room service for every meal. It was something I could not believe was really happening. We were living like rock stars. They did not know this town and I did. I knew where to get the drugs and quickly stepped up my status in the group. One of the things that needed to change was the amount of people in the group. Thirteen is too many to cart around and keep up with all the time.
There were times when things didn't go too smoothly. We were all on hard drugs day after day and people were bound to get worn down. Not only was our consumption of coke getting up there but we were also dropping acid. Buying it by the sheets of 100 hits. People were starting to drop like flies and heading back to the country. It was intense, and acid in the wrong environment can send you running for the hills. Others were not so lucky and were having seizures. Others were curled up in the fetal position at the end of the bed. Truly gruesome and very much a reality in the drug world. You don't care about others and how they feel. You expect it to wear off,most of the time it did. None of which stopped us from getting on with the days events. Making a pact ,that we all agreed upon, if any of us were to die during one of the marathon drug binges we would drop the body at a dumpster and that was that. It made complete sense at the time.
One particular time I made the ultimate decision to help out one of them, was the one that kept having the seizures. He had another and this time wasn't coming out of it. He dislocated his shoulder in the process of waling around the room in a fit and was hurt and from the looks of it in a lot of pain although he couldn't talk. He just clung to me. I was the only woman in the room. This kid was a friend of mines, little brother. The others wanted to leave, and I remember his dark brown eyes with his pupils dilated to about the size of his iris and how he was pleading with me for help. It was if he had a stroke. No words would come out. I took him and put him in my car drove him to the hospital emergency room and waited. After a while the doctor came out and asked me " Have yall been doing drugs?" Of course I told him "yes" and he said "He is pretty messed up." I remember the look the doctor gave us. It made me feel shame and fear. " He will be staying." the doctor finally told us. I gave them some info about him and we left. I have never seen him again, to this day. I know he is ok and I know he spent about 3 weeks in the hospital after that incident. I know it changed the dynamic of the group. More people went back home and we were left with about 5.
This did not stop us. To the contrary. We never looked back. Although the party was over, the ugly head of addiction was rearing up and about to devour us whole. Money money money. That is all you need to be a drug addict. That and some serious emotional issues that drugs make go away. A deadly combo. My heart is hurting from writing about this. I do have regrets about this. What was wrong with me. Why was I so cold? Where was my heart? Even though I took that kid to the hospital that means nothing. He may have died otherwise. I know that. But, I still feel like a freaking boogie man for getting all this crap for these kids. They were still kids. They were my daughters age. I am ashamed of that. This is something I haven't really thought of before. I have always told these stories.Over and over. Leaving out any of my own responsibility for the mess around me. hmmm...Maybe just maybe I am getting somewhere. I was a lousy person in those days. Self absorbed. Greedy and careless.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
HAND IN HAND
Ok, so this is something I need to say about the events of my wonderful weekend. Talking to my girlfriend last night about the fun times, she made me aware of a situation that happened that I was not aware of. My plan was to take them to Bever's Kitchen in Chappell Hill. This fabulous old house that has been converted into a restaurant that serves a variety of home cooked meals along with just about any kind of pie, cobbler, cookie, bread pudding you can think of. All homemade and several of them being my own mothers recipes. It was going to be a real treat. The walls in the restaurant are covered in gifts to purchase. Upon arriving at the restaurant it had already closed for the day. Disappointed.... So, instead since we were already in Chappell Hill I suggested the Chappell Hill Cafe. It has been there forever and the food is pretty good. Owned and operated by the meat market next door. The steaks are big and yummy.
I was so excited about having us altogether that thinking anything would go wrong never ever crossed my mind. Apparently it did. She has 3 children one of which is this amazing,bright eyed, smart, funny, enthusiastic 11 year old girl. Her personality is one that compares to the children you see in sitcoms. Quirky, and witty, says what she wants, and is comfortable in her own skin. Not afraid to be goofy. Friendly and loving, considerate and kind. The last thing in this world I ever thought about her was the color of her skin. You see, she is a biracial child, and although that should never matter, she got to see the ugly side of it in this restaurant on Saturday.
Apparently there were people in there that felt it necessary to make her feel uncomfortable with there stares and the rolling of there eyes. I was completely unaware of this situation and that may have been for good reason. It makes me hotter than a firecracker to think that any person would do this to anyone, and even angrier a child. One that is being molded and experiences like this could forever scar. Self esteem is a huge part of what type of adult we turn into. What could they possibly have gained from this? It is absurd ! This little girl felt as if she needed to leave the restaurant and sit in the car because if this ignorance. What?! My insides turn when I try to imagine how she must have felt that day not knowing where to turn and who to tell. Keeping it in. Letting it pick away at her beautiful character. Why would an adult, a grown adult do such a thing? I really just don't get it. Have we not come far enough in this world? We must have a long way to go. I am sad for her and hope that she can use this experience as a bouncing board to rise above the negativity. For realizing that there are people out there that are so insecure with themselves and can't break away from what there grandparents told them. Use it to hold her head up high and be proud of her heritage. Stand tall and be proud. That was her restaurant to be in. That was her bacon cheesburger to eat. Her chocolate milk to sip on that 1950's barstool. She had every right to be there as anyone. The ones who should probably stay home are the racist pigs that preyed on a little girl that day.
Look at that face! Look at the future of this world. Look at what it should be. Carefree and happy. I wait for the day that being who you are is all that matters in this world. Not what color your skin is. Are we alone? In this world like this. Is this country, the only country that has this? Why? How do we change it? Look at that face! My contribution to this world is to teach my own children not to judge by color. Not to say hurtful names, and look for what is good in all. Standing firm against anyone that has a rude remark about other races. calling it out for what it is and embarrassing them for thinking that way and being associated with it. I do not read any of the racist emails that go around about our President, or any other race. If I come upon them and see that it is offensive I quickly delete them. Maybe if enough people deleted them then maybe just maybe they would be stopped in there tracks before too many people are harmed by there content. All these things are small and maybe being able to affect my immediate family is what it takes. We learned the negatives from years and years of our ancestors telling us what is good and what is bad. Am I not doing the same thing? By telling my children that every person and living thing on this planet is deserved to be here and has every right to live in peace as the next.
That was our day, to be together, and get acquainted with one another after so many years. This was not to be messed with in my mind. It was tainted at that moment for one of the members of her family and I wish only I could have looked them in there eyes and made them feel shame for there behavior. Instead I am here venting about this problem in our world that needs to be fixed. In the meantime coming together to support and love the ones closest to us is all we can do. Next time we are altogether and if this ever happens again I would hope she would trust us to know we care and won't take it. Love.....
I was so excited about having us altogether that thinking anything would go wrong never ever crossed my mind. Apparently it did. She has 3 children one of which is this amazing,bright eyed, smart, funny, enthusiastic 11 year old girl. Her personality is one that compares to the children you see in sitcoms. Quirky, and witty, says what she wants, and is comfortable in her own skin. Not afraid to be goofy. Friendly and loving, considerate and kind. The last thing in this world I ever thought about her was the color of her skin. You see, she is a biracial child, and although that should never matter, she got to see the ugly side of it in this restaurant on Saturday.
Apparently there were people in there that felt it necessary to make her feel uncomfortable with there stares and the rolling of there eyes. I was completely unaware of this situation and that may have been for good reason. It makes me hotter than a firecracker to think that any person would do this to anyone, and even angrier a child. One that is being molded and experiences like this could forever scar. Self esteem is a huge part of what type of adult we turn into. What could they possibly have gained from this? It is absurd ! This little girl felt as if she needed to leave the restaurant and sit in the car because if this ignorance. What?! My insides turn when I try to imagine how she must have felt that day not knowing where to turn and who to tell. Keeping it in. Letting it pick away at her beautiful character. Why would an adult, a grown adult do such a thing? I really just don't get it. Have we not come far enough in this world? We must have a long way to go. I am sad for her and hope that she can use this experience as a bouncing board to rise above the negativity. For realizing that there are people out there that are so insecure with themselves and can't break away from what there grandparents told them. Use it to hold her head up high and be proud of her heritage. Stand tall and be proud. That was her restaurant to be in. That was her bacon cheesburger to eat. Her chocolate milk to sip on that 1950's barstool. She had every right to be there as anyone. The ones who should probably stay home are the racist pigs that preyed on a little girl that day.
Look at that face! Look at the future of this world. Look at what it should be. Carefree and happy. I wait for the day that being who you are is all that matters in this world. Not what color your skin is. Are we alone? In this world like this. Is this country, the only country that has this? Why? How do we change it? Look at that face! My contribution to this world is to teach my own children not to judge by color. Not to say hurtful names, and look for what is good in all. Standing firm against anyone that has a rude remark about other races. calling it out for what it is and embarrassing them for thinking that way and being associated with it. I do not read any of the racist emails that go around about our President, or any other race. If I come upon them and see that it is offensive I quickly delete them. Maybe if enough people deleted them then maybe just maybe they would be stopped in there tracks before too many people are harmed by there content. All these things are small and maybe being able to affect my immediate family is what it takes. We learned the negatives from years and years of our ancestors telling us what is good and what is bad. Am I not doing the same thing? By telling my children that every person and living thing on this planet is deserved to be here and has every right to live in peace as the next.
That was our day, to be together, and get acquainted with one another after so many years. This was not to be messed with in my mind. It was tainted at that moment for one of the members of her family and I wish only I could have looked them in there eyes and made them feel shame for there behavior. Instead I am here venting about this problem in our world that needs to be fixed. In the meantime coming together to support and love the ones closest to us is all we can do. Next time we are altogether and if this ever happens again I would hope she would trust us to know we care and won't take it. Love.....
Sunday, March 22, 2009
GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT
It is Sunday night and I am preparing to get in bed. Needed to come and put a few things down before I did so. This weekend I met with a girlfriend of mine that I haven't seen or heard from since I was 10 years old. We were always the very best of friends in elementary school and after my parents made the move from Houston we lost contact with one another. Thoughts of her and how she was doing always went through my mind but technology was not what it is today . Facebook is where I found her again and we quickly made arrangements to visit one another. This was the weekend it happened. She came with her crew in tow. A 2 year old set of twin boys and this bubbly 11 year old girl.
Thirty years have passed and we caught up in 48 hours. It was as if time had stood still all those years ago, waiting for us to meet again. There were no uncomfortable moments. From the minute we greeted one another with a big hug and a smile there was no question this was the same girl I had left behind in the 5th grade. You never know, it could have been a total disaster. We both took a chance and believed that it wouldn't. It was great! Our children meshed immediately giving us a well deserved break to just have some good old fashioned girl time.
Sitting and talking to this woman was amazing. Her story is so amazing, mine pales in comparison to hers with the struggles and pains and losses she has had to go through. She is an oak. She is truly a survivor in many ways.
Loving to her children in a way that I had to sit and absorb, in order to maybe be able to implement in my own life. Patient and kind. This time was well deserved for the both of us and I can tell that it will continue to be one of those sisterly relationships that I only have a few of.
Good times and bad I am pretty sure I can count on her being there for me through it. Never doubted all theses years that it wouldn't have been true. I mean come on thirty years have past and all the people that were once in my life at that time are a distant memory. Can not remember there faces, names or age in which I knew them. Something about Michele always made me go back in time and remember her. Never could put my finger on it. Well, this is what I have come up with about that. It wasn't the things we did or the slumber parties we attended it was her.
Brimming with emotion to the point that it comes out in the form of tears as she expresses her feelings about almost anything. I like that about people. Never having been one to wear my feeling out there in fear of them getting hurt or being embarrassed. This girl gets me mushy and grateful. A good quality I need to learn to use more often. Along with that comes a great sense of humor and big laugh. Easygoing and non judgmental. I mean if anyone was to be scared it should have been her. She is a college graduate with a career and I being the one with the sorted past. She knew about it for the most part. I try not to leave too many surprises. Even knowing all of where I had been she still trusted, this reunion and what it could bring to our lives, enough, to bring her children into my home. That says alot.
We went to lay in the bluebonnets. Climb fence! Played in the lovely park. Laughed and laughed. Went snap happy on the kids. My daughter was cross eyed by the end of the day having said cheese 115 times or more.
I am regretting writing this tonight as I am tired and my words are not coming the way i thought they would. I can't find enough to say. I am happy and grateful. Knowing that we will carry this on into many years to come. This was a good thing.
Thirty years have passed and we caught up in 48 hours. It was as if time had stood still all those years ago, waiting for us to meet again. There were no uncomfortable moments. From the minute we greeted one another with a big hug and a smile there was no question this was the same girl I had left behind in the 5th grade. You never know, it could have been a total disaster. We both took a chance and believed that it wouldn't. It was great! Our children meshed immediately giving us a well deserved break to just have some good old fashioned girl time.
Sitting and talking to this woman was amazing. Her story is so amazing, mine pales in comparison to hers with the struggles and pains and losses she has had to go through. She is an oak. She is truly a survivor in many ways.
Loving to her children in a way that I had to sit and absorb, in order to maybe be able to implement in my own life. Patient and kind. This time was well deserved for the both of us and I can tell that it will continue to be one of those sisterly relationships that I only have a few of.
Good times and bad I am pretty sure I can count on her being there for me through it. Never doubted all theses years that it wouldn't have been true. I mean come on thirty years have past and all the people that were once in my life at that time are a distant memory. Can not remember there faces, names or age in which I knew them. Something about Michele always made me go back in time and remember her. Never could put my finger on it. Well, this is what I have come up with about that. It wasn't the things we did or the slumber parties we attended it was her.
Brimming with emotion to the point that it comes out in the form of tears as she expresses her feelings about almost anything. I like that about people. Never having been one to wear my feeling out there in fear of them getting hurt or being embarrassed. This girl gets me mushy and grateful. A good quality I need to learn to use more often. Along with that comes a great sense of humor and big laugh. Easygoing and non judgmental. I mean if anyone was to be scared it should have been her. She is a college graduate with a career and I being the one with the sorted past. She knew about it for the most part. I try not to leave too many surprises. Even knowing all of where I had been she still trusted, this reunion and what it could bring to our lives, enough, to bring her children into my home. That says alot.
We went to lay in the bluebonnets. Climb fence! Played in the lovely park. Laughed and laughed. Went snap happy on the kids. My daughter was cross eyed by the end of the day having said cheese 115 times or more.
I am regretting writing this tonight as I am tired and my words are not coming the way i thought they would. I can't find enough to say. I am happy and grateful. Knowing that we will carry this on into many years to come. This was a good thing.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
TREADING WATER
Last night as I lay in bed reading I found myself lost in my own thoughts. Letting pages turn without ever absorbing the words I had read. My life is so intense at this moment trying to step out even for a minute is proving hard. Thoughts swirling in my head. Knowing I am going to move on today about my life story and making it as true to myself as possible I can't seem to go there in my head. Before, when it was time to write about it, the thoughts were in my head , the memories were rushing in, and I knew the window of opportunity had arrived, and I better get it out in a hurry before the memories disappeared.Right now I am urging myself to move on because I am at a bad place in my memory and want to get through it. Trying to take away some of the pressure of what life is like right now in our home. There is a dark energy in the home that I am trying desperately to clear. I may be that energy. I may be the one holding on to pain and resentment. Time to move forward...
So much happened so fast in those days. I can hardly believe it. Certain that at least a year is missing from my life. I can't find it. I know it is gone though. There is not enough time left in my journey with drugs to have done all I did and still be married by Feb '96. It makes me crazy not because I can't remember the events but more in the sense that I want it to be non-fiction and chronological. Maybe what seemed like years, were actually months. Maybe what seemed like months, were actually weeks. Being so distorted at that time in my life this is very much a possibility. Accepting that, I think I can move on.
After the mushroom bust, I was able to keep my job. I continued to work with what little clientele I had but my heart was not there. She tried to help me out by letting me continue to work at her shop but I was not contributing anything good to it. Having grown up in this town made it difficult for me to hold my head up high around others due to the shame of being in the towns paper and now everyone knew about me. I missed my 5 year reunion knowing there was no way in hell I was showing my face there. I was so ashamed and that was not a feeling I knew what to do with. So I did the only thing I knew to and that was more drugs. I delved into them. Inhaled a lot of fumes. Finding that it was a way for me to completely disappear from the world. Killing millions of brain cells never crossed my mind at the time and now suffering from short term and some long term memory loss I think I may have made a different choice. Having years and years to think about this time in my life when huffing was something I did on a regular basis. Finally coming to the conclusion that it did make me simply go away. Feeling nothing and absorbing nothing, simply going through the motions.
In this time, there was a guy who was more of a convenience to me, than a boyfriend. Although he did not know that. His family....dealt drugs and I needed drugs. He lived in the home with them. He was the one kid in the family who did not use and did not deal. Spending most of my time between his house and Austin. Remembering back I definitely know I did not want to be with this guy. I did not love him for even a minute. He loved me and wanted to be my protector. Wanted to save me. That wasn't going to happen. The only reason I spent so much time over there is because they had cocaine and pot which I wasn't allowed to have. Being saved and all. They grew attached to me and felt for me in a weird way that, what was good for others, was not good for me. So I stole it and lots of it. Having a lot of time in there home I knew where they had the operation running in the home. I knew where the keys were and anytime I had an opportunity I was in there grabbing anything I could get my hands on. The thrill of the steal was almost as exhilarating as the coke.
I was forced during this time to be on drugs privately. Lonely and without friends to share with I often retreated to Austin to stay with either Cindy and Willie or the guys in the band Split. I would go for weeks at a time. Not notifying anyone in my family of my whereabouts. Things had changed in the short time I had left. The club I went to and got all my freebies had changed ownership. Meandering in the door without a cover charge was a thing of the past. I remember the first time I ordered a drink and walked off with it. Astonished is the word to describe the bartenders. The money I had, needed to last me as long as possible so I could stay longer and buying frozen sangrias was not a priority. Once the money was gone, well that meant driving back to Brenham. I didn't want to go back but the thought of actually finding a job in Austin never crossed my mind. Of course not. Why would it?
Basically it all boils down to this. I spent months following this same pattern. I was mostly barefooted with cutoff jeans and t-shirts. Drugs were my #1 priority at the time and getting them was way too easy. Hooked....but not yet suffering the cost that drugs make people pay. My setup was working. Always looking for a better time or an opportunity to bail out of my life responsibility. No longer going to probation meetings because of drug testing. I was 23 years old at the time. Think about it. What were you doing at 23? I was sitting on the curb of a convenience store all day waiting for other druggies. That sentence right there brings me to my next post. That right there, on that curb, is what sent me on the fast track to disaster. Sitting there hot from the sun and broke with no drugs and no job. Soon to be suffering the cost. It is where I first saw him and asked Big D who he was and what was his story. I will call him Elvis. Until next time.
So much happened so fast in those days. I can hardly believe it. Certain that at least a year is missing from my life. I can't find it. I know it is gone though. There is not enough time left in my journey with drugs to have done all I did and still be married by Feb '96. It makes me crazy not because I can't remember the events but more in the sense that I want it to be non-fiction and chronological. Maybe what seemed like years, were actually months. Maybe what seemed like months, were actually weeks. Being so distorted at that time in my life this is very much a possibility. Accepting that, I think I can move on.
After the mushroom bust, I was able to keep my job. I continued to work with what little clientele I had but my heart was not there. She tried to help me out by letting me continue to work at her shop but I was not contributing anything good to it. Having grown up in this town made it difficult for me to hold my head up high around others due to the shame of being in the towns paper and now everyone knew about me. I missed my 5 year reunion knowing there was no way in hell I was showing my face there. I was so ashamed and that was not a feeling I knew what to do with. So I did the only thing I knew to and that was more drugs. I delved into them. Inhaled a lot of fumes. Finding that it was a way for me to completely disappear from the world. Killing millions of brain cells never crossed my mind at the time and now suffering from short term and some long term memory loss I think I may have made a different choice. Having years and years to think about this time in my life when huffing was something I did on a regular basis. Finally coming to the conclusion that it did make me simply go away. Feeling nothing and absorbing nothing, simply going through the motions.
In this time, there was a guy who was more of a convenience to me, than a boyfriend. Although he did not know that. His family....dealt drugs and I needed drugs. He lived in the home with them. He was the one kid in the family who did not use and did not deal. Spending most of my time between his house and Austin. Remembering back I definitely know I did not want to be with this guy. I did not love him for even a minute. He loved me and wanted to be my protector. Wanted to save me. That wasn't going to happen. The only reason I spent so much time over there is because they had cocaine and pot which I wasn't allowed to have. Being saved and all. They grew attached to me and felt for me in a weird way that, what was good for others, was not good for me. So I stole it and lots of it. Having a lot of time in there home I knew where they had the operation running in the home. I knew where the keys were and anytime I had an opportunity I was in there grabbing anything I could get my hands on. The thrill of the steal was almost as exhilarating as the coke.
I was forced during this time to be on drugs privately. Lonely and without friends to share with I often retreated to Austin to stay with either Cindy and Willie or the guys in the band Split. I would go for weeks at a time. Not notifying anyone in my family of my whereabouts. Things had changed in the short time I had left. The club I went to and got all my freebies had changed ownership. Meandering in the door without a cover charge was a thing of the past. I remember the first time I ordered a drink and walked off with it. Astonished is the word to describe the bartenders. The money I had, needed to last me as long as possible so I could stay longer and buying frozen sangrias was not a priority. Once the money was gone, well that meant driving back to Brenham. I didn't want to go back but the thought of actually finding a job in Austin never crossed my mind. Of course not. Why would it?
Basically it all boils down to this. I spent months following this same pattern. I was mostly barefooted with cutoff jeans and t-shirts. Drugs were my #1 priority at the time and getting them was way too easy. Hooked....but not yet suffering the cost that drugs make people pay. My setup was working. Always looking for a better time or an opportunity to bail out of my life responsibility. No longer going to probation meetings because of drug testing. I was 23 years old at the time. Think about it. What were you doing at 23? I was sitting on the curb of a convenience store all day waiting for other druggies. That sentence right there brings me to my next post. That right there, on that curb, is what sent me on the fast track to disaster. Sitting there hot from the sun and broke with no drugs and no job. Soon to be suffering the cost. It is where I first saw him and asked Big D who he was and what was his story. I will call him Elvis. Until next time.
Monday, March 16, 2009
BRB
Life at home has calmed down a bit. I am thinking. Ready to continue. Trying to come up with my next turn of events that put me here where I am today. Getting so involved with the crisis I am currently going through, quickly wakes me from daydreaming about days gone by. Continuing to get through this next year is imminent. All I can think about right now is raising my daughter and the things I went through in that time. If I went straight there then I would miss a huge life altering chunk of my life out. I pretty much can remember the next thing and just need the time to tap it out.
For now home is quiet. Looking forward to my weekend with my friend. I will blog tommorrow. Back in time. Gotta keep going.
For now home is quiet. Looking forward to my weekend with my friend. I will blog tommorrow. Back in time. Gotta keep going.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
WHOA IS ME?
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Wow! What a lie. That I have known for a long long time,but it couldn't ring more true than last night when she tore my character apart. I felt as if I had been mauled by a bear. I sat there not knowing what to say not knowing what to believe, not knowing if I should scream, cry, run. I was alone in this battle as my husband, and her father, let her say what he felt needed to be said. Really? Was it necessary? Am I this person? Have I not given my entire married life to raising her, his child, an abused child? Had I been so off base with my raising her that these words, these terrible words have merit? I know they don't. I know that she is sick and hurting and that this is her way of trying to get me to back off and leave her alone. I know that all the screaming and throwing and stomping and banging is her way of trying got get me to say "GET OUT!" She is forced to stay by the order of the judge but it didn't stop her from calling the police herself to report me for abuse and try to convince them that she needs to leave our home as she is not safe. One look at her the police knew. It is obvious. With her black nails, nose ring, torn jeans, black tennies without their laces, ranting and raving about her rights they knew before they ever laid eyes on me that this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with her.
Although I know all of this, and know that this is the right thing for her. I can't help but question what is the right thing for me, my marriage, my children. I have never ever in my life come across a person so out of control as I did yesterday in my living room. There is a sickness there that I can't comprehend. A mental illness, Swinging madly from one mood to the next. Screaming and ranting one second,to suicidal the next,to crying, to sarcasm, to calm to lauging on the phone to her friends. All in an hours time. Is this real? I was left in that hour stunned and pained and sad. Angry and hurt. Are there more words for hurt? I need more words that describe pain, the feeling I can't put my finger on that is sitting in my gut wrenching and working it's way to my brain where I am left asking. What is on the other side of this.
Am I more hurt by her words or by his lack of concern to protect me from those words. I get primal when someone is deliberately trying to hurt someone I love. Primal, caveman, there is no rational thought that goes through me other than to PROTECT. Why was that feeling not running through the man that I dedicate my life to. He is torn, hurting, scared, left holding the ball and does not know what to do with it. I picture him holding up a scale with me on one side and his daughter on the other. I am getting to heavy. He is going to release me to save her. Can I handle this on my own. I feel alone. As the tears are stinging the corners of my eyes for this I know that I will have to hold on to him, because he has to hold on to her. It does not have to be this way but she is making the choices here. I would gladly walk through this with the both of them. That is the problem though. She is not ready to walk through this so as long as she can keep me at arms length she can bide her time before she splits.
In the meantime I am here in distress. I am trying my hardest to use all the resources I have not to use this stress as an excuse to eat food my body does not need. This being so new to me. I don't know what else to do. Obviously having been in training for the past 7 months. It is time for the race. Do I have the skills to continue to care about myself in the face of disaster? Today? Right this minute I would have to say... YES I do. Will you hear me whine somemore? Guaranteed... I have worked very hard on my own ability this past year and right now I think I can handle the battle. My heart is still so young. I do still wear my feeling on my sleeves when it comes to certain people. My husband being one of them. That man is a part of me. So I sit with my feelings hurt by her words and his actions. Not wanting to be the selfish, poor me person, in this as I know we are all carrying a lot of weight right now. I will not throw my weight onto him.
I can do this. It will get better with time. Time is all we have.
Although I know all of this, and know that this is the right thing for her. I can't help but question what is the right thing for me, my marriage, my children. I have never ever in my life come across a person so out of control as I did yesterday in my living room. There is a sickness there that I can't comprehend. A mental illness, Swinging madly from one mood to the next. Screaming and ranting one second,to suicidal the next,to crying, to sarcasm, to calm to lauging on the phone to her friends. All in an hours time. Is this real? I was left in that hour stunned and pained and sad. Angry and hurt. Are there more words for hurt? I need more words that describe pain, the feeling I can't put my finger on that is sitting in my gut wrenching and working it's way to my brain where I am left asking. What is on the other side of this.
Am I more hurt by her words or by his lack of concern to protect me from those words. I get primal when someone is deliberately trying to hurt someone I love. Primal, caveman, there is no rational thought that goes through me other than to PROTECT. Why was that feeling not running through the man that I dedicate my life to. He is torn, hurting, scared, left holding the ball and does not know what to do with it. I picture him holding up a scale with me on one side and his daughter on the other. I am getting to heavy. He is going to release me to save her. Can I handle this on my own. I feel alone. As the tears are stinging the corners of my eyes for this I know that I will have to hold on to him, because he has to hold on to her. It does not have to be this way but she is making the choices here. I would gladly walk through this with the both of them. That is the problem though. She is not ready to walk through this so as long as she can keep me at arms length she can bide her time before she splits.
In the meantime I am here in distress. I am trying my hardest to use all the resources I have not to use this stress as an excuse to eat food my body does not need. This being so new to me. I don't know what else to do. Obviously having been in training for the past 7 months. It is time for the race. Do I have the skills to continue to care about myself in the face of disaster? Today? Right this minute I would have to say... YES I do. Will you hear me whine somemore? Guaranteed... I have worked very hard on my own ability this past year and right now I think I can handle the battle. My heart is still so young. I do still wear my feeling on my sleeves when it comes to certain people. My husband being one of them. That man is a part of me. So I sit with my feelings hurt by her words and his actions. Not wanting to be the selfish, poor me person, in this as I know we are all carrying a lot of weight right now. I will not throw my weight onto him.
I can do this. It will get better with time. Time is all we have.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I WAS HER , SHE IS ME
Monday mornings. Can't move from my spot on the bed. Forcing myself back to sleep even though I have to use the restroom and have crick in my neck. Just ten more minutes lying next to my husband. Our legs entwined, his warmth making me stay. Thoughts of the day are already spinning but I won't move.Then.... Waking up to my husband saying" it's 7:45!" We both need to be at work by 8 a.m. Jumping up and scurrying around... hair, makeup, clothes, breakfast, and I was only 4 minutes late to work. Don't ask me how but I also looked decent.
Less than an hour later I could hear my phone vibrating in my purse. Usually ignoring this device, for me it is more of an emergency item than a luxury. Reaching in my purse and grabbing the phone it is my husband. Answering the phone I hear what I didn't want to. The school called and they have our daughter in the office...she is high. Wanting us to pick her up or she goes to jail.
Arriving at the school before him I was in a panic. Torn between anger and fear. Heart beating rapidly not knowing how to handle this. What is the right thing to do? As soon as I saw her, I knew. I was her, she is me. That burden weighs heavy on me. The office was full of confusion. Lots of words passed I can now barely remember any of it. My feelings of fear were on top of my skin. What if we took her home? She wouldn't stay. She doesn't live there anymore and as much as we have tried to talk her out of it she will not budge. She can not be trusted for anything right now. Remembering when I had small children and how you knew that if they got out of your sight for even a second too long they were into everything. This is that same feeling multiplied.
That along with her stinking attitude made up the mind of the police officer and he placed her under arrest. Handcuffed our daughter and walked her out of the school crying. Past all of her peers gawking in the hall. Snickering, whispering, wondering. My husband and I trailed behind about 30 feet as they rushed her off to jail. Driving separate vehicles I reached mine and sat there listening to my heart pound out of my chest. Now what? It happened. What I knew needed to happen but didn't think would happened. She is in jail.
Sadness overcomes me about this just because I know. People don't do drugs because they are happy. People don't throw away there lives because it is rewarding. There is deep seeded pain that makes one go down like this. Her seeds are buried deep inside of her and they are almost at this moment impossible for us to even try to water. Resistant, tough, rebellious, ANGRY. She is not like the daughter we know that has had a long life of troubles. She is gone. That one that at one time we could talk down and resolve issues with has checked out and what is left is someone we don't know. I don't know this girl or how to get her to calm down as she is now in our home. She has been remanded to our custody and you would have thought someone had poured Holy Water on her. She is retching in anger at the thought of the rules that will be set into place. The discipline that she so hates.
As parents what do you do? You have to keep up a good front even though the words coming from her mouth are tearing you down and wearing you out. Do I have to? It hurts should I let her know it hurts? I have and she , right now, glories in it. We have taken her from what SHE thought was good. Back into the home where striving to succeed is not a choice. This child has the possibility of being something great one day. Brilliant and beautiful. What she lacks is what was stolen from her when she was just a baby. Before I ever met her. Before I married her father.
When I was out on the streets of Austin wasting my own life away. My daughter was in a home being abused and neglected by her birth mother. The first years of her life were traumatic and life altering to her. Little did anyone know that this trauma would carry with her through all of these years, she is 17 now and her father and I have raised her since her 4th birthday. Although I don't think she remembers most of what happened to her, somewhere in her soul there is damage. Damage only she can touch and she can heal. I think that sore spot in her is a mystery. Blaming anyone and everyone for the troubles she is in. Can not bear the thought of the pain involved with working on herself in an emotional way. It is the only way and is not going to be easy. There may be no one to blame for this pain any longer. There may be no other way than for her to nurture herself in to a well person. Her support system is large. She has family from all sides rallying around her to help her when it gets too painful.
She has to start the process of growth. She has to nurture that deep seeded pain that we can't touch. She has to bring it to the surface at least so we can rid of it and heal that spot that hurts so bad. I hope and pray that she with our support can do these things without suffering a long and painful life. Break the cycle of self abuse that runs so deeply in her family. She can, I know she can, but will she.?
It is Wednesday now and all has been a blur. Coming home tonight to more of the same. This is an intervention for us. Please any one who is out there remember our family when you lay your head down at night. Please for our daughter who needs, deserves a better life than what she can provide for herself right now. Pray like you never have.
Less than an hour later I could hear my phone vibrating in my purse. Usually ignoring this device, for me it is more of an emergency item than a luxury. Reaching in my purse and grabbing the phone it is my husband. Answering the phone I hear what I didn't want to. The school called and they have our daughter in the office...she is high. Wanting us to pick her up or she goes to jail.
Arriving at the school before him I was in a panic. Torn between anger and fear. Heart beating rapidly not knowing how to handle this. What is the right thing to do? As soon as I saw her, I knew. I was her, she is me. That burden weighs heavy on me. The office was full of confusion. Lots of words passed I can now barely remember any of it. My feelings of fear were on top of my skin. What if we took her home? She wouldn't stay. She doesn't live there anymore and as much as we have tried to talk her out of it she will not budge. She can not be trusted for anything right now. Remembering when I had small children and how you knew that if they got out of your sight for even a second too long they were into everything. This is that same feeling multiplied.
That along with her stinking attitude made up the mind of the police officer and he placed her under arrest. Handcuffed our daughter and walked her out of the school crying. Past all of her peers gawking in the hall. Snickering, whispering, wondering. My husband and I trailed behind about 30 feet as they rushed her off to jail. Driving separate vehicles I reached mine and sat there listening to my heart pound out of my chest. Now what? It happened. What I knew needed to happen but didn't think would happened. She is in jail.
Sadness overcomes me about this just because I know. People don't do drugs because they are happy. People don't throw away there lives because it is rewarding. There is deep seeded pain that makes one go down like this. Her seeds are buried deep inside of her and they are almost at this moment impossible for us to even try to water. Resistant, tough, rebellious, ANGRY. She is not like the daughter we know that has had a long life of troubles. She is gone. That one that at one time we could talk down and resolve issues with has checked out and what is left is someone we don't know. I don't know this girl or how to get her to calm down as she is now in our home. She has been remanded to our custody and you would have thought someone had poured Holy Water on her. She is retching in anger at the thought of the rules that will be set into place. The discipline that she so hates.
As parents what do you do? You have to keep up a good front even though the words coming from her mouth are tearing you down and wearing you out. Do I have to? It hurts should I let her know it hurts? I have and she , right now, glories in it. We have taken her from what SHE thought was good. Back into the home where striving to succeed is not a choice. This child has the possibility of being something great one day. Brilliant and beautiful. What she lacks is what was stolen from her when she was just a baby. Before I ever met her. Before I married her father.
When I was out on the streets of Austin wasting my own life away. My daughter was in a home being abused and neglected by her birth mother. The first years of her life were traumatic and life altering to her. Little did anyone know that this trauma would carry with her through all of these years, she is 17 now and her father and I have raised her since her 4th birthday. Although I don't think she remembers most of what happened to her, somewhere in her soul there is damage. Damage only she can touch and she can heal. I think that sore spot in her is a mystery. Blaming anyone and everyone for the troubles she is in. Can not bear the thought of the pain involved with working on herself in an emotional way. It is the only way and is not going to be easy. There may be no one to blame for this pain any longer. There may be no other way than for her to nurture herself in to a well person. Her support system is large. She has family from all sides rallying around her to help her when it gets too painful.
She has to start the process of growth. She has to nurture that deep seeded pain that we can't touch. She has to bring it to the surface at least so we can rid of it and heal that spot that hurts so bad. I hope and pray that she with our support can do these things without suffering a long and painful life. Break the cycle of self abuse that runs so deeply in her family. She can, I know she can, but will she.?
It is Wednesday now and all has been a blur. Coming home tonight to more of the same. This is an intervention for us. Please any one who is out there remember our family when you lay your head down at night. Please for our daughter who needs, deserves a better life than what she can provide for herself right now. Pray like you never have.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
THE CUPCAKE THAT ALMOST WASN'T
On a road trip with my girl to Austin yesterday I had an epiphany. The plan was to go and have this wonderful time reminiscing about our past and visiting places that we had been. We were going to get some of the beloved "My Cupcakes" on Congress. What came out of it for me was that my life is pretty darn great and going back to take a look turned out for me, at least, to be negative. Made me question things I am doing in my life. We almost turned around and went home. Too much static. Having all the ingredients for a happy life already in my basket I don't need to be out there looking for something else. Happiness is at my fingertips and there is no one else or no place else that I can add to this picture that will make it better. I have it all, although it has been much like a Rubik's cube. In the way that figuring out how to get all the sides matching, has been the task. Like everything in life nothing is handed to you and there is work to be done. Reaching out of my basket of goodies for something, anything, nothing would surely ruin the recipe I am making.
Face book, My space is the static I am talking about. Never have been a part of that, never had the desire but recently after hearing much about it I joined. Hooked! Haven't seen nor heard from most of these people in years and years I was excited thinking wow this is fun. Spending more and more time on there than necessary. These things have to go. Fun while it lasted but my life is good and my friends are my friends. If these people were meant to be a part of my life then they would have been. So, goodbye face book.
One very good thing came from this..I found my very best friend from my past. Before I moved to Brenham, before the storm. Talking to her was fabulous and this will be a friendship that remains in my life.
Time to regroup as i think all this static has put me in a place where I am not focused on my path. Setting new goals today. Turning the channel back to reality and nourishing the relationships I have already in place. Me! being the number one focus. Lots of work still to be done on myself. Seems this detour has at least allowed me to quickly evaluate my choices and my life. My life is good,I was so happy to see my home as we returned from our trip.
With my Keep Austin Weird shirt and Cupcakes in tow. OH HOW GOOD THEY ARE!
I was probably more of a downer on this trip than I wanted to be, but my life, and preserving the remains of it to build upon weigh heavy on my heart these days. Oh the mistakes we make and how they come down on you to thump you in the head. Talking out loud about these things in my life are true therapy for me this blog does not replace that. My poor friend and her ears are probably worn down. So happy that we didn't turn around and go home.
Face book, My space is the static I am talking about. Never have been a part of that, never had the desire but recently after hearing much about it I joined. Hooked! Haven't seen nor heard from most of these people in years and years I was excited thinking wow this is fun. Spending more and more time on there than necessary. These things have to go. Fun while it lasted but my life is good and my friends are my friends. If these people were meant to be a part of my life then they would have been. So, goodbye face book.
One very good thing came from this..I found my very best friend from my past. Before I moved to Brenham, before the storm. Talking to her was fabulous and this will be a friendship that remains in my life.
Time to regroup as i think all this static has put me in a place where I am not focused on my path. Setting new goals today. Turning the channel back to reality and nourishing the relationships I have already in place. Me! being the number one focus. Lots of work still to be done on myself. Seems this detour has at least allowed me to quickly evaluate my choices and my life. My life is good,I was so happy to see my home as we returned from our trip.
With my Keep Austin Weird shirt and Cupcakes in tow. OH HOW GOOD THEY ARE!
I was probably more of a downer on this trip than I wanted to be, but my life, and preserving the remains of it to build upon weigh heavy on my heart these days. Oh the mistakes we make and how they come down on you to thump you in the head. Talking out loud about these things in my life are true therapy for me this blog does not replace that. My poor friend and her ears are probably worn down. So happy that we didn't turn around and go home.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!
This story is brought to you by my son and his continuous snooping. Having jarred memories in doing so. Sitting in my parents living room after my father arrived home from the hospital chatting with them and their preacher who came by to wish him well. I was on the computer and we were all laughing and going over the events of the previous weekend half out of our minds from exhaustion.
Keaton, my son is digging through my parents china cabinet looking for everything and nothing at the same time. Just exploring. My mom and dads house has been theirs for the past 30 years and as you can imagine there is probably 30 years worth of stuff in those cabinets. All of a sudden I hear," Grandy! I found an old paper, it is from 1993." My ears perked up real quick and I said. " I don't think Keaton needs to be reading the Banner Press from 1993." Poor Keaton was so interested in it as I snatched it out of his hands before he could see what I would never want him to. I may cross that bridge one day but not at that moment. He is 11 and would tell whoever he came in contact with.
And here's why....
After coming back from Austin to live at home with my parents. I did find a job doing hair in a little shop. I was sooo incompetent. This was not for me and I knew it. Staring at the clientele as they left the building scrutinizing over every hair. Never feeling like the haircut was right. Torcherous,but I had a job.
Leaving behind my friends in Austin wasn't easy. Leaving that lifestyle behind was even worse in my eyes. Back in this lazy town with absolutely no night life, period. There were still the people here that we had left behind. Long story short I tried to make the best with what I had to continue on the road I was on. Parties and hanging out at other stoners houses was a nightly thing for me.
These are the times that become so confusing for me.The timeline. In my mind I think I know in what chronocological order they belong but then I know there was no way. All I know is that these things happened and that's that. If I had to put a time on it I think this day happened before I moved to Austin. OK,sorry it drives me nuts.
Twas a rainy day and as usual I was in bed until at least noon, it may have been 2. I remember waking up and looking under the blinds to the world outside. The sun was bursting through the rain clouds. Immediately excited, knowing I had a short window of time to accomplish what needed to be done. Springing out of bed and grabbing the phone as every criminal needs an accompliss. The unlucky girl would be Doris. She was a 6 foot tall, 350 pound, 18 year old , freckle faced girl, who most people mistook for a man. Well, she dressed like one, again with the combat boots and army fatigues, she had the presence of a giant. She was strange and different and I loved it. We were pals and she was on board with the days plans. 30 minutes later I was picking her up and we were off to 3 bridges where the cows were fed the exact right type of grain to produce the lovliest mushrooms after a rain. Armed with our hefty sacks we entered the pasture and began picking. Mushrooms were every where. Our eyes were bigger than the time we had allowed to us, as we were tresspassing. By this time, I remember it being close or after 5 and the traffic of people going home from work. We loaded our booty and headed for her apartment.
We were being followed and I knew it was over. The sherriff was coming to get me, as we reached the apartment there were by this time several cop cars arriving with us and we were caught. Taken to the police department, questioned and released. That was it? We were not arrested. Just comfiscated the mushrooms and let go. Whew! That was close.
Moving forward a year, I was back from Austin ,working and I guess trying a little bit to do the right thing. Although I was still on drugs. Chatter was going around town that there was going to be this big drug bust. A round up of sorts. Thoughts of that day so long ago came flooding back. Could I be a part of that? I remember sitting at work one day talking to my fellow hairstylist and telling her about it and that maybe I would be involved in it. I was right.
Two or three days later while I was at work, in came the police and notified me that I was under arrest and needed to come with them. As we walked out of the door of the salon it was quite a show. Several cruisers were there to get ME. Like I was going to run or something. Along with the newspapers photographer. This couldn't be good.
Booked at the station and put in a holding cell. Sitting there with the few other women that were arrested in the same sting. It seems I was the story that day, because, as they were letting me out to speak with my lawyer, somehow TV cameras from the show City Under Seige were let in the back to approach me and question me about what I did to get here. Shocked and pissed about it because I could see the police in the background smiling about their accomplishments. I was none too pleased. I made a smart remark and my lawyer jumped in front of the camera. Bail was posted and I went home to the shame and embarrassment of facing my parents.
Next day...I was in the paper. Not the Brenham Beat people which a little exerpt in the paper listing 911 calls and arrests. I was on the front page of the paper. My picture the one they took as the police walked me out of my work. Headline news. I couldn't believe it and personally I was enraged. I was made an example. They held on to my case for a year so they could do this. I still think it was shady. Besides the paper I was also on the evening broadcast of City Under Seige which was kinda like Cops but it was based in Houston. I am from Houston and so are all my Aunts and Uncles. Needless to say the phone was ringing at our house.
My second arrest. Remember? I got caught shoplifting earlier in life. The court was not too pleased with me and my behavior. 5 years probation (ejudicated) 250 hours community service. Hefty fines which my parents paid and I never knew the amount and at the time was so screwed up didn't even ask. Enabled? Little bit.
This was meant to be a wake up call. Turn it all around and go on the path of the straight and narrow. Yeah right. By all accounts it did nothing but make me mad and hate where I was even more. It was on, and I was rebelling against any and all authority.
To be continued....
Keaton, my son is digging through my parents china cabinet looking for everything and nothing at the same time. Just exploring. My mom and dads house has been theirs for the past 30 years and as you can imagine there is probably 30 years worth of stuff in those cabinets. All of a sudden I hear," Grandy! I found an old paper, it is from 1993." My ears perked up real quick and I said. " I don't think Keaton needs to be reading the Banner Press from 1993." Poor Keaton was so interested in it as I snatched it out of his hands before he could see what I would never want him to. I may cross that bridge one day but not at that moment. He is 11 and would tell whoever he came in contact with.
And here's why....
After coming back from Austin to live at home with my parents. I did find a job doing hair in a little shop. I was sooo incompetent. This was not for me and I knew it. Staring at the clientele as they left the building scrutinizing over every hair. Never feeling like the haircut was right. Torcherous,but I had a job.
Leaving behind my friends in Austin wasn't easy. Leaving that lifestyle behind was even worse in my eyes. Back in this lazy town with absolutely no night life, period. There were still the people here that we had left behind. Long story short I tried to make the best with what I had to continue on the road I was on. Parties and hanging out at other stoners houses was a nightly thing for me.
These are the times that become so confusing for me.The timeline. In my mind I think I know in what chronocological order they belong but then I know there was no way. All I know is that these things happened and that's that. If I had to put a time on it I think this day happened before I moved to Austin. OK,sorry it drives me nuts.
Twas a rainy day and as usual I was in bed until at least noon, it may have been 2. I remember waking up and looking under the blinds to the world outside. The sun was bursting through the rain clouds. Immediately excited, knowing I had a short window of time to accomplish what needed to be done. Springing out of bed and grabbing the phone as every criminal needs an accompliss. The unlucky girl would be Doris. She was a 6 foot tall, 350 pound, 18 year old , freckle faced girl, who most people mistook for a man. Well, she dressed like one, again with the combat boots and army fatigues, she had the presence of a giant. She was strange and different and I loved it. We were pals and she was on board with the days plans. 30 minutes later I was picking her up and we were off to 3 bridges where the cows were fed the exact right type of grain to produce the lovliest mushrooms after a rain. Armed with our hefty sacks we entered the pasture and began picking. Mushrooms were every where. Our eyes were bigger than the time we had allowed to us, as we were tresspassing. By this time, I remember it being close or after 5 and the traffic of people going home from work. We loaded our booty and headed for her apartment.
We were being followed and I knew it was over. The sherriff was coming to get me, as we reached the apartment there were by this time several cop cars arriving with us and we were caught. Taken to the police department, questioned and released. That was it? We were not arrested. Just comfiscated the mushrooms and let go. Whew! That was close.
Moving forward a year, I was back from Austin ,working and I guess trying a little bit to do the right thing. Although I was still on drugs. Chatter was going around town that there was going to be this big drug bust. A round up of sorts. Thoughts of that day so long ago came flooding back. Could I be a part of that? I remember sitting at work one day talking to my fellow hairstylist and telling her about it and that maybe I would be involved in it. I was right.
Two or three days later while I was at work, in came the police and notified me that I was under arrest and needed to come with them. As we walked out of the door of the salon it was quite a show. Several cruisers were there to get ME. Like I was going to run or something. Along with the newspapers photographer. This couldn't be good.
Booked at the station and put in a holding cell. Sitting there with the few other women that were arrested in the same sting. It seems I was the story that day, because, as they were letting me out to speak with my lawyer, somehow TV cameras from the show City Under Seige were let in the back to approach me and question me about what I did to get here. Shocked and pissed about it because I could see the police in the background smiling about their accomplishments. I was none too pleased. I made a smart remark and my lawyer jumped in front of the camera. Bail was posted and I went home to the shame and embarrassment of facing my parents.
Next day...I was in the paper. Not the Brenham Beat people which a little exerpt in the paper listing 911 calls and arrests. I was on the front page of the paper. My picture the one they took as the police walked me out of my work. Headline news. I couldn't believe it and personally I was enraged. I was made an example. They held on to my case for a year so they could do this. I still think it was shady. Besides the paper I was also on the evening broadcast of City Under Seige which was kinda like Cops but it was based in Houston. I am from Houston and so are all my Aunts and Uncles. Needless to say the phone was ringing at our house.
My second arrest. Remember? I got caught shoplifting earlier in life. The court was not too pleased with me and my behavior. 5 years probation (ejudicated) 250 hours community service. Hefty fines which my parents paid and I never knew the amount and at the time was so screwed up didn't even ask. Enabled? Little bit.
This was meant to be a wake up call. Turn it all around and go on the path of the straight and narrow. Yeah right. By all accounts it did nothing but make me mad and hate where I was even more. It was on, and I was rebelling against any and all authority.
To be continued....
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
ME...ON A RUNAWAY TRAIN TO NOWHERE
It takes a few days for me to go over my thoughts about what I have written and where I would like to go from here. How does this make me a better person? What did I learn and take from the experience? I am here to learn about me and figure it all out. So far I see that from the beginning I was a frail person that wore her feelings on her sleeve. Having learned how to cover those pains became tiring and I obviously needed more to hide from the feelings I didn't know how to feel.
That led me on the path to using drugs. Once on that road I completely lost track of myself. I no longer had that...that thing that others have...that...for lack of a better word... inner voice telling me that it is wrong. I couldn't stop. The train had left the station,destination unknown. What started as a party train full of fun times and many people, slowly but surely one by one people got of at there stops for various reasons I wasn't concerned about. The only people boarding this train to nowhere were stowaways. Refusing to get off I found myself alone in the end, long way from home and not knowing how to get back. Help was offered to me all the way. Hands put out for comfort along the way. Using those times to recover just long enough to get back out there, left the friends I did have feeling used and....well... done.
Irresponsible comes to mind when I look at this. Did I ever take responsibility for my irresponsibility? Absolutely not! Was I capable of doing so at the time? Yes! Maybe just maybe this is what left me living life in denial and moving over to food instead of drugs. I never finished what I started. Replaced it is all I did. Again. I am getting too far ahead of myself right now. So much more to write about before I even get close to removing myself from a life on drugs.
Time line from where I left off is pretty much getting close to the end. About one year left of full swing drug use. Escalated risks. Hard to believe so much could be packed in one year. My train was moving fast and was about to derail. Trouble was on the horizon and there was no way for me to avoid it.
Did I ever consider that I needed help? No. Help? Was there help for what I was doing? How could I have? Half the time I had no idea how to deal with anything other than to medicate myself in some way. It all boils down to me being completely blinded by my addiction. Decisions I made in those days were not made by a person in her right mind.
Carrying this load with me for many years after the drugs were long gone has put me here today. Wondering...Pondering...Begging for that answer.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
SHINING MY SHELL
Some days are just the same as others. They run together like watercolors on paper. Before you know it you have painted a picture with time. Only to be seen when you step back to take a look. You see the true beauty of the work you have done. Days turn into weeks turn into years. Although I try to cherish each day sometimes before I look up a month has passed. My children are older and changing. Where does that time go? I am not certain if this is good or bad. Knowing that times in my life flew by without me noticing is sometimes disturbing for me. Where did that time go? Was it important? Am I missing something from not knowing? Trusting in my self that if it were crucial to my future I would remember, is all I can do.
Having opened my eyes to my past, present and, future I am going to try my hardest to document my past, live in the present and look forward to the future. Brightness ahead, brightness of living out each day taking good care of myself. Allowing my children to be who they are no matter what and know that it is ok to be different. They are loved and conforming to others to fit in is not the solution. The light I see in the future does shine bright for me. I know I can handle what comes my way. I am not alone. I do not walk this path alone.
Connecting with myself ...Being that I have been a people pleaser for as long as I can remember has hurt me. Doing for others before myself has kept me in the back like that leftover plate in the fridge that gets pushed back day after day until, oops.
Leaving myself out of the picture a lot of times. Literally when I look at the pictures of my family I am rarely in them. I am behind the camera. When someone did get a shot of me I was mostly mortified by the glimpse that camera got of me in that one close of the shutter. Not only was I completely unrecognizable to myself I also looked so sad. The life in my eyes seemed depleted. Denial was living in me. I lived a lie. Rarely knowing the person in the picture,this wasn't me. Couldn't be...How do I make the connection again.
Love the image of myself. Be proud of who I am and how I look along with the aura I put off. Find the well of life that is flourishing in my soul and show it to the world with out fear of rejection. Fear of failure, fear fear fear. I am no longer that child afraid of the hand coming out from under the bed so why should I live that way. Staying in my home, not venturing out to be seen and be a part of society. I refuse to continue down that lonely road. I am here, I am 39 today and, feel as though life today is limitless. I won't be bungee jumping anytime soon. That is not what I mean. Baby steps. I am coming out of my shell a better person. One day I may abandon the shell and live completely free of the weight I have carried around in my shell,emotional and physical. But for right now I am just shining the shell I am in and making it a lovelier place to be..... For me.
Having opened my eyes to my past, present and, future I am going to try my hardest to document my past, live in the present and look forward to the future. Brightness ahead, brightness of living out each day taking good care of myself. Allowing my children to be who they are no matter what and know that it is ok to be different. They are loved and conforming to others to fit in is not the solution. The light I see in the future does shine bright for me. I know I can handle what comes my way. I am not alone. I do not walk this path alone.
Connecting with myself ...Being that I have been a people pleaser for as long as I can remember has hurt me. Doing for others before myself has kept me in the back like that leftover plate in the fridge that gets pushed back day after day until, oops.
Leaving myself out of the picture a lot of times. Literally when I look at the pictures of my family I am rarely in them. I am behind the camera. When someone did get a shot of me I was mostly mortified by the glimpse that camera got of me in that one close of the shutter. Not only was I completely unrecognizable to myself I also looked so sad. The life in my eyes seemed depleted. Denial was living in me. I lived a lie. Rarely knowing the person in the picture,this wasn't me. Couldn't be...How do I make the connection again.
Love the image of myself. Be proud of who I am and how I look along with the aura I put off. Find the well of life that is flourishing in my soul and show it to the world with out fear of rejection. Fear of failure, fear fear fear. I am no longer that child afraid of the hand coming out from under the bed so why should I live that way. Staying in my home, not venturing out to be seen and be a part of society. I refuse to continue down that lonely road. I am here, I am 39 today and, feel as though life today is limitless. I won't be bungee jumping anytime soon. That is not what I mean. Baby steps. I am coming out of my shell a better person. One day I may abandon the shell and live completely free of the weight I have carried around in my shell,emotional and physical. But for right now I am just shining the shell I am in and making it a lovelier place to be..... For me.
Monday, March 2, 2009
1992-3ish
It occurs to me that sitting at my desk, working, is the time when I do most of my thinking. Coming up with the next thing to say, the next memory to document. Once I enter the door of my house it is on. No time to worry about what went wrong. No time to dwell over the past. Life is abundant in my home.Puppies greet you at the door tales a wagging looking for the first of the attention to be given that evening. My son is always coming up with some new experiment to try. God help us. Entertaining is the thing he likes to do. Jokes and underarm farts are a common thing when he is around. My youngest daughter, the artist, always has the latest masterpiece to splay in front of me daily while I prepare dinner. In walks the hubby to give that kiss I am ever so grateful for daily. I feel like a 50's housewife working in the kitchen, things are smelling good and in walks your husband gives you a "hello,dear" and a peck on the cheek.
Uh..wait a minute..
I worked 8 hours today . Snap out of it. Moving on. I could never be bored at home with the constant love and attention they give me. I hear I love you from them in some form every day sometimes all day. Whether it takes the form of a song or a picture or simply a big squeeze and kiss. I am at my best when around my family. Point being I am grateful for this time I have at work to think about me and my life and pick it apart. Only keeping the best of the best that will keep me healthy and happy. So let's go there...
Austin, Texas 1992-3ish. I have to admit I lost track of time in those days. I know it was summer. When you don't have to know what day it is, you don't. Fridays meant nothing to me I was out 7 days a week. I had no job. I was a hairstylist and wanted to do MAD hair. Well, I found out very quickly that punk rockers do there own hair. Literally with the cheapest product you have ever seen. We lived a few apartments down from 2 punk rock guys and I wanted to do their hair. Their names-Turtle and Dave. Dave was a character, his hair was as red as cherry kool-aid , colored his teeth black with sharpies and wore a band-aid on his face. His clothes were torn and dirty. He smelled. Looks can be deceiving because he was a very nice kid. So I introduced myself and wanted to know where he gets his hair done. Quickly informed he did his own and was able to see it first hand one day, as he poured Clorox in his already bleached hair, then when it was bleach yellow he put cherry kool-aid in it. Wow. Can you say, over processed? Well that is an understatement. Having met several of his friends all of which didn't have a dime and all did there own hair, Elmer's glue for the mo hawks and most had a jar or two of manic panic for color. I could see I wasn't going to make a dime in Austin trying to do punk rock hair. I went to the drag one day to find a job. Just one day.
My roommate on the other hand had a full time job and was diligently working and being responsible. She was serious, she was here to live. The love of her life was here and she wasn't going to mess it up. I,on the other hand had just lost the love of my life and didn't give a rats ass about responsibility. I was here to party. Party I did. I never even made it out of the house to go out each night until around 11pm. Months went by and I was not a contributor to our living environment in any way. Food stamps and checks from home were the only thing that kept me above water.
My looks had changed dramatically,I was no longer the pretty girl that was engaged to be married that same year. I had cut my hair off, very very short in fact it at times was shaved in the back and sides leaving hair on top to prove I was a girl. I colored what hair I had purple and wore the same thing over and over. No jewelry other than beads and rubber bracelets, army fatigue shorts with a men's v-neck white tee with army boots given to me by a friend who had been in the army. Most of the time I wasn't very feminine. Leaving a club at 3 am alone and having to walk to your car is not the time to bring attention to yourself. Only people out at that time are the homeless and the leftovers like me.
My routine for months was the same. I really don't remember when I slept in those days.I know I did but it wasn't my biggest priority. Found a club right off 6th street named Mercado Caribe that would allow me to enter for free. Still don't know why they did because I never talked to any of the people who worked there. Can't begin to guess but they also let me drink frozen sangria's for free every night. Thinking about it all I can come up with is the guys from the band that I followed. We had all been in there together a few times at gigs and sitting in the back smoking dope before the shows is my best guess as to how they knew my face. Didn't matter I got in free and that is what I did . I went to listen to music only. I rarely socialized with anyone other than to smoke dope. I spent most of my time in those months on acid. Cheapest and longest high I could find. I never had money for pot but I know I smoked it every day. It was abundant. Parked in the alley behind the club went in and sometimes drug a few stragglers back to the apartment to hang out until morning. Needless to say my roommate who had to work the next morning did not appreciate my friendliness.
What went wrong? Couldn't tell you. After months of the same thing, not ever finding work always bringing home other drug addicts, feeding them our food and being disrespectful I came home one night to an empty apartment. She had moved out with her boyfriend. The gig was up. Rent was not paid had no money to pay it. No money to buy gas or cigarettes anymore. Had burned my acid dealer because I would eat all of his acid instead of sale it. Running out of options for the most part. The last straw was when my car broke down. Stuck all by myself in that lonely apartment. Realizing what I had done never entered my mind. My dumb ass was in the hole I had dug, and couldn't get out by myself. The friends I had made over the past 6 months were just as bad or worse off than me. The last memories I have of the apartment were laying in bed watching the koresh davidianship burn to the ground. It crashed and burned with all the lives that were taken and I was this selfish lost person watching it with no feeling at all about it. I remeber not being affected by the travesty. I was gone..a waste.. fried.
My parents came to get me...I was going home. Loaded my car on a trailor and I went back to the place I had run from in the first place. Going back to Brenham having been on drugs for 6 months straight and looking like someone else was bound to be a problem...right?
Uh..wait a minute..
I worked 8 hours today . Snap out of it. Moving on. I could never be bored at home with the constant love and attention they give me. I hear I love you from them in some form every day sometimes all day. Whether it takes the form of a song or a picture or simply a big squeeze and kiss. I am at my best when around my family. Point being I am grateful for this time I have at work to think about me and my life and pick it apart. Only keeping the best of the best that will keep me healthy and happy. So let's go there...
Austin, Texas 1992-3ish. I have to admit I lost track of time in those days. I know it was summer. When you don't have to know what day it is, you don't. Fridays meant nothing to me I was out 7 days a week. I had no job. I was a hairstylist and wanted to do MAD hair. Well, I found out very quickly that punk rockers do there own hair. Literally with the cheapest product you have ever seen. We lived a few apartments down from 2 punk rock guys and I wanted to do their hair. Their names-Turtle and Dave. Dave was a character, his hair was as red as cherry kool-aid , colored his teeth black with sharpies and wore a band-aid on his face. His clothes were torn and dirty. He smelled. Looks can be deceiving because he was a very nice kid. So I introduced myself and wanted to know where he gets his hair done. Quickly informed he did his own and was able to see it first hand one day, as he poured Clorox in his already bleached hair, then when it was bleach yellow he put cherry kool-aid in it. Wow. Can you say, over processed? Well that is an understatement. Having met several of his friends all of which didn't have a dime and all did there own hair, Elmer's glue for the mo hawks and most had a jar or two of manic panic for color. I could see I wasn't going to make a dime in Austin trying to do punk rock hair. I went to the drag one day to find a job. Just one day.
My roommate on the other hand had a full time job and was diligently working and being responsible. She was serious, she was here to live. The love of her life was here and she wasn't going to mess it up. I,on the other hand had just lost the love of my life and didn't give a rats ass about responsibility. I was here to party. Party I did. I never even made it out of the house to go out each night until around 11pm. Months went by and I was not a contributor to our living environment in any way. Food stamps and checks from home were the only thing that kept me above water.
My looks had changed dramatically,I was no longer the pretty girl that was engaged to be married that same year. I had cut my hair off, very very short in fact it at times was shaved in the back and sides leaving hair on top to prove I was a girl. I colored what hair I had purple and wore the same thing over and over. No jewelry other than beads and rubber bracelets, army fatigue shorts with a men's v-neck white tee with army boots given to me by a friend who had been in the army. Most of the time I wasn't very feminine. Leaving a club at 3 am alone and having to walk to your car is not the time to bring attention to yourself. Only people out at that time are the homeless and the leftovers like me.
My routine for months was the same. I really don't remember when I slept in those days.I know I did but it wasn't my biggest priority. Found a club right off 6th street named Mercado Caribe that would allow me to enter for free. Still don't know why they did because I never talked to any of the people who worked there. Can't begin to guess but they also let me drink frozen sangria's for free every night. Thinking about it all I can come up with is the guys from the band that I followed. We had all been in there together a few times at gigs and sitting in the back smoking dope before the shows is my best guess as to how they knew my face. Didn't matter I got in free and that is what I did . I went to listen to music only. I rarely socialized with anyone other than to smoke dope. I spent most of my time in those months on acid. Cheapest and longest high I could find. I never had money for pot but I know I smoked it every day. It was abundant. Parked in the alley behind the club went in and sometimes drug a few stragglers back to the apartment to hang out until morning. Needless to say my roommate who had to work the next morning did not appreciate my friendliness.
What went wrong? Couldn't tell you. After months of the same thing, not ever finding work always bringing home other drug addicts, feeding them our food and being disrespectful I came home one night to an empty apartment. She had moved out with her boyfriend. The gig was up. Rent was not paid had no money to pay it. No money to buy gas or cigarettes anymore. Had burned my acid dealer because I would eat all of his acid instead of sale it. Running out of options for the most part. The last straw was when my car broke down. Stuck all by myself in that lonely apartment. Realizing what I had done never entered my mind. My dumb ass was in the hole I had dug, and couldn't get out by myself. The friends I had made over the past 6 months were just as bad or worse off than me. The last memories I have of the apartment were laying in bed watching the koresh davidianship burn to the ground. It crashed and burned with all the lives that were taken and I was this selfish lost person watching it with no feeling at all about it. I remeber not being affected by the travesty. I was gone..a waste.. fried.
My parents came to get me...I was going home. Loaded my car on a trailor and I went back to the place I had run from in the first place. Going back to Brenham having been on drugs for 6 months straight and looking like someone else was bound to be a problem...right?
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