Triggers, Safety, & Dimly Lit Tunnels.

Had a very productive morning once I forced myself out of bed.  I have started using this online alarm clock and it has been helping me quite a bit with my over sleeping issues.  I had a group at the womens center this morning, it was a 'healthy relationships' class.  I initially didn't want to go to that particular class because I thought it was about sexual and romantic relationships.  I have avoided these altogether in the past few years and thus have nothing to say about them.  It turns out the class is just about relationships in general and I actually really enjoyed it.  We talked about how to deal with 'contention' in our day to day lives and how to handle confrontation constructively.  I ended up sharing about my relationship with J and how he physically and mentally abused me while we were together. We talked about how my past history of physical and sexual abuse carries over into how I approach my current relationships, or the lack thereof, and about my PTSD and paranoia. I also talked about not knowing how to deal with the homeless junkies who hang out in the parking lot below my window and basically party all through the night making it difficult for me to sleep.  That whole thing has made me reflect more on how my perspective on the neighborhood I live in has changed since I got sober.  I just didn't realize how bad it was back when I was part of the problem.  Now every time I see a dirty needle on the ground or hear a car window get smashed out in the middle of the night it really fucking irritates me.  I haven't known how to deal with the junkies in the parking lot, even though they significantly effect my quality of life in a negative way, because I don't want to be a hypocrite and I definitely don't want to be a rat and run to the police.  It has gotten to the point where I am afraid to walk Kali to the park after the sun goes down because I know I will have to walk past them and I worry that they will attack me or try to rob me and she will get hurt. Most of them are mentally ill and / or on meth and they are just so unpredictable, it's not too far-fetched for me to think something like that might happen.  A lot of my old junkie aquaintances have gotten the idea into their heads that I think I am somehow better than them because I'm not getting high anymore.  It's true that I have cut off contact with all of my using connections, but it's not because I feel superior, I just don't need that shit in my life anymore.  Last night at 4am this guy Cielo, a homeless crackhead I used to get high with, started pounding at my door and yelling my name.  He's been kicked out of my building several times for sleeping in front of my door when I wouldn't let him in.  Obviously he woke me up and I couldn't go back to sleep for an hour after he left, I just sat there with my taser in my hand staring at the door and holding Kali with my free hand. I was terrified that he would try to break in.  I thought about calling the police, but it goes against everything I believe in, and I know that getting them involved would only make things worse.  I just do not feel safe in my environment, my stress level is through the roof, and it's making my life suck.  I'm going to continue to look for a sober living house to move into but in the mean time all I can do is try to not make waves or piss anyone off.

After the group was over I walked to the clinic.  I have been walking and riding my bike more often whenever I have the energy to do so.  It keeps me from having to ride the Nasty Nine and also gives me an energy boost throughout the day.  I'm beginning to see how important exercise is, everytime I do it I feel much better, it's just working up the motivation to start that's difficult.  I rode the bus back from the clinic on my way to the Food Stamp office to turn in my recertification paperwork.  My review is in two days.  The ride to the welfare office was relatively uneventful, thankfully, and after turning in my paperwork I walked home safely.

I have written before about how uncomfortable it is to ride public transportation in San Francisco on a daily basis.  You can read about it in my post 'Muni Sucks and So Does Methadone Maintenance'   for some specific examples.  At it's best, riding the Nine is just awkward.  I was coming back from the clinic the other day and this girl I have a huge crush on sat next to me in back.  The bus was packed and she squished up against me to avoid touching the total stranger on her other side.  She said hi to me, I only managed a very quiet hi back and a shy smile before I pulled out a book and started reading to avoid having to have a conversation.  The fifteen minute bus ride, with her soft skin pressing against mine, was very tense for me.  As I exited the bus I told her to have a nice day and skittered out the back doors looking like a total tool.  I was kicking myself for hours afterwards over my inability to start a conversation or even act like a normal human being around a girl I like.  Then again it was a lot worse when I used to ride the bus stoned.  I remember one time I had just smoked two or three bowls with my hippie neighbor and had to immediately afterwards get on the bus so I wouldn't miss the clinic.  As I was walking out my front door my benefactor neighbor Uncle Tony handed me a stack of cookies and cream filled oreos.  The heavens parted and angelic voices rang out from the skies.  As I sat and ate my delicious oreos on the bus I was consumed by the feeling that everyone on the Nine was staring directly at me and watching me eat, and also that everybody knew I was stoned.  A massive samoan drag queen (she looked a lot like Divine from Pink Flamingos) got on the bus and sat in front of me and I had a very difficult time not staring at her while I ate my cookies.  I was positive that this was only happening because I was high and that the universe got a kick out of throwing weird shit in my path whenever I smoked a lot of weed.  I think I also had to go to the DMV that day.  I have since stopped smoking weed in an effort to at least try to do sobriety 'the right way' even though I do not consider weed to be a drug, much less a harmful one, and fully intend to smoke it in the future once I am more confident in my ability to abstain from more destructive substances.  More on that later, I'm sure.

When a bus ride is bad, however, it is usually really bad.  The news is full of stories about muggings, even a recent shooting, occuring on Muni vehicles.  Smart phone thefts are common, so are screaming matches between passengers and random physical altercations.  I recently saw an older black lady threaten to beat up a younger latina girl for accidentally kicking her foot when the bus stopped abruptly.  The lady was being so aggressive, and the younger girl was so obviously scared and shocked by her unwarranted anger, that I felt compelled to give up my seat for the girl so she wouldn't have to deal with the older womans abuse.  I also had a guy spit in my hair once and call me a bunch of names for accidentally stepping on his foot.  At the risk of sounding totally racist, I really gotta ask, what the fuck is it with black people and their sneakers?  The shit is on your feet, it's going to get dirty, and it's going to get kicked or stepped on by another foot at some point, it's inevitable.  People need to chill the fuck out.  As I was taking the 14 Mission to a meeting on Saturday, an older man was coming out the back door as I was getting on.  As he stepped down onto the sidewalk he reached out and grabbed my ass.  I moved away and sauid "Woah dude, not fucking cool!"  to which he merely smiled and winked at me.  It wasn't until I went to sit down that I realized my (cheap and shitty) phone was in my back pocket and thought that maybe he was actually trying to steal it instead of trying to grab my ass like I had previously assumed.  I guess I'll never know.  But yea I think you catch my drift here.  San Francisco public transportation, especially the bus, is out of control.

It's not just riding the bus that's sketchy either.  Waiting at the bus stop can be an equally unpleasant and harrowing experience.  Case in point: this is the wall of a Muni bus shelter.  The glass has been punched out and the map that usually goes underneath it has been removed or stolen, but can you see what else is wrong with this picture?

No?  Look a little closer...

That's right, now every Muni bus stop south of market comes complete with its own loaded syringe full of black tar heroin!  And you all thought there was no such thing as free dope.  Incidentally, on my way back from the meeting, I checked and it was still there.  San Francisco is a really gross city.  It would be really lovely to not have to encounter peoples dirty rigs strewn all over the fucking place on a daily basis.  I would really like to at least get out of the Downtown area as soon as humanly possible.

So anyhoo, I didn't finish sharing the last bit of my Step One work with you guys in my last blog post because I was feeling too neggy, and it was tainting my writing and such, so I will post the rest of it now.

More ways in which I would like my life to become manageable

• I would like to work through my issues about my past and be able to use my experiences to help other people and become a stronger person.  I want to stop being afraid all of the time and to feel safe.  I want to feel sane and in control of my emotions and behavior.
• I want to feel more comfortable in social situations and not feel so shy and awkward all the time.
• I would like to have a better relationship with my family.  I would like to make amends to members of my family who I have hurt and for them to forgive me as well.
• I would like to be able to take better care of my body and to feel more confident about the way I look and present myself.
• I would like to have a spiritual aspect to my life and to form a relationship with a higher power that I can trust and put faith in without being cynical and over analyzing everything to death.

Basically I just want to feel like I have control over my actions, emotions, surroundings, and how I structure my time.  I want to feel safe, happy, and cared for; not only by my family and friends, but by my higher power in whatever form it may take. I want to live a life that is productive and has meaning, I want to create beautiful things, feel accomplished, and help other people.  To me manageability would manifest mainly as a feeling of safety and security, as a sense of control over what happens to me, this is what was lacking in my life when I was actively using and was powerless over my addiction.  It is hard for me to imagine what this would really look or feel like as my life has always been chaotic in one way or another, but I have to believe that it is possible for me, this is what I am working towards.  Even if I can't see the light at the end of this tunnel, I need to have faith that it's there and keep walking, even if I have to stay in the dark for a while.

Finally picked up my 24hour and 30day chips.  I will hopefully be picking my 60 day chip up soon if all goes as planned.  I am very grateful for my sobriety today and that I get to go to bed and wake up without needing to shoot heroin.  After so many years of hopelessness and slavery to drugs and alcohol the freedom I feel is really amazing.  Even when my life seems like it sucks and everything is nasty and fucked up at least I can be happy about the fact that I'm clean. It really means a lot that I was fully ready to give up on life all together and now I have a chance to turn things around.  If I can do it, I know for a fact that anyone can, so stay strong you guys and remember to reach out to another addict or alcoholic if you need help.  I'm always here to listen or offer advice if you need it.  More later.  Take care everyone.  <3 

Drained.

I spent all of today at the hospital for my worsening Hep C symptoms.  In the past month my fatigue has gotten really out of control.  Initially I attributed it to withdrawals but it hasn't gotten any better overall. I will sleep all day if I don't somehow drag my ass out of bed.  I've gotten pretty good at making it to the clinic before it closes at 2pm but some days I don't even manage that.  Last week I spent two whole days in bed and yesterday I did the same thing, sleeping all the way up to noon today.  I have blown off seven classes for my pre-trial diversion using the excuse that I have until the end of October to finish them, but at this rate I never will.  Even the threat of jail will not motivate me to wake up before noon.  I usually wake up naturally several times throughout the night and also when the sun comes up, it's getting out of bed that's the issue, I can't seem to stay awake.  I inevitably go back to sleep and then sleep past whatever it is I had to wake up for.  If I get out of bed the first time I wake up I'm okay, but it's much easier said then done.  I know this could be my depression but it is also a symptom of Hep C and my continual exhaustion feels more physical than mental.  In addition to the hypersomnia, last week when I was sick from something I ate I noticed there was blood in my vomit.  This morning I shit blood.  Lots of bright red blood.  After doing some searches online I decided to go to the hospital.

Urgent care at general hospital is directly underneath my methadone clinic.  I went there after I dosed and began the lengthy and redundant process of working my way through numerous hospital workers telling them my issues over and over again.  Someone came in to draw my blood and proceeded to stick me numerous times in dead veins, drawing no blood and hurting me, this woman refused to listen to me when I told her I have no veins on the inside of my elbow.  Those veins have been dead for years.  After butchering my arm she realized she was probably wrong and maybe I knew what the hell I was talking about.  They sent me to the ER to get my blood drawn by a more qualified technician.  At the ER I had my blood drawn again  by a slightly more competent person, but they still failed to give me the IV that had been ordered to improve my hydration.  After another multiple stabbing ordeal, a really hot med student who looked like Olivia Wilde came in and stuck her finger up my ass.  The rectal exam was positive for blood, duh, that's why I was there in the first place.  Olivia pulled a plastic speculum out of a cabinet and informed me she needed to check me for hemorrhoids and then I would go up to the OR to be prepped for a colonoscopy.  Um... No.  I left against medical advice and went home.  Not a very fun day.  Now I am scared that I am delaying the inevitable and will have to go back to get things stuck up my ass again, or that something might be really wrong with me, and it is really fucking with my head.  I fucking hate hospitals.  I wish I had thought about this kind of shit before nonchalantly infecting myself with Hep C back when I was 18, back when taking someones dirty rinse sounded like a great idea.

I am still struggling with the most basic shit.  I just don't know how to live life properly.  I just did my laundry the other day for the first time since I moved into my building.  I have lived here for almost a year.  I cannot for the life of me maintain a normal sleep cycle.  I don't have the energy to shower most days, I just recently started wearing deoderant again and brushing my teeth every day.  What the fuck is wrong with me?  Why is every little thing I do such an enormous task?  Everything I do leaves me feeling drained and exhausted and I just want to sleep forever while the world falls down around me.  I should really do something about my depression.  I think I am going to try to get back on psych meds, I have to do something, this is no way to live.

M gave me my last first step writing assignment, it was to write about what my life would look like if it became manageable and how I would like my life to change through my sobriety.  I'm going to share what I wrote with you guys.

Ways in which I would like my life to become manageable

• I want to feel financially secure and not have to worry about being able to afford necessities.  I don't want to have to depend on my parents or ask them for anything, I want to be financially independent and feel like I have a safety net to fall back on.
• I want to live in an environment in which I feel safe and comfortable.
• I want to feel sane and in control of my emotions and my actions.  I want to feel like I am safe and to no longer be controlled by my fears.
• I want to have friends who truly care about me and who support me and have my best interest at heart.  Friends who will not give up on me or allow me to hurt or destroy myself.
• I would like for my dog to be happy and feel secure and comfortable in her environment.
• I want to feel happy and have enough energy to wake up early and be productive throughout the day.
• I would like to have a job or some sort of creative outlet that gives my life structure and meaning.

That's all I've got for you right now maybe once my mood improves I will be able to write more, but I feel like my depression is tainting everything right now.
More later.  Stay strong everyone.

Falling From a Pink Cloud (and Learning How to Fall Correctly)

Recent events have snapped me back into reality, my pink cloud had officially dissipated, if you could even call it that...  I guess that given my predisposition towards the negative, it makes sense that my personal pink cloud would be miniature sized.  Fun sized?  I guess the latter sounds a little nicer, and chewier somehow (I'm thinking of nougat.)  Abstract ruminations and manic tangents aside, I feel like shit.  Just found out that another friend of mine, albeit not as close a friend as T, but someone I have known since I was 17, died this week.  Rest in Peace LES Jewels - I will miss you buddy.  This is certainly the end of an era for the Lower East Side.  I sincerely hope that this is not going to be one of those horrific months where every time I dare to check my email or my facebook I find out that another one of my friends is dead.  It kind of comes with the territory of being a heroin addict, but maybe my higher power will see fit to give the people I care about a break for a little while?  Their lives are hard enough as is, they don't need to have them stolen, seriously.

My teeth are fucking killing me.  I really need to get my wisdom teeth taken out.  It gets worse and worse by the day.  I honestly do not know how I am going to get the procedure done however without asking my parents to pay for it, and that is really not appropriate, I should be giving to them right now not continuing to be a burden and a disappointment.  Still, I contacted all the local dental schools I could find and even with their sliding scale dealies i can't afford the shit.  In all likelihood I will wait until my face swells up and I get some kind of oral sepsis before I finally do something about it.  You would be surprised at my ability to handle physical pain.  Hell I got hit by a fucking semi truck a few years ago and got right back up.  What's a tooth ache compared to that!? Uuuuugh.

There are mice in my fucking room.  Like six of them.  It started out with one, then two, then three, and now the adorable little fuckers are running around my room constantly, frollicking and playing and eating my socks.  The most precious little squeaks can be heard all hours of the night from various corners of my tiny single-room-occupancy hotel room, a joyous chorus fueled by errant kibble from Kalis bowl and fruit snacks I dropped behind the microwave on accident.  They really are cute, I don't want to hurt them, but I really would like for them to not procreate any more, or if they must, to go to somebody elses room... please?

I have not been to a meeting since Sunday.  I am, however, doing copious amounts of step work to finish up my first step by the time I meet with M on Friday to review it.  I am finishing up my chapter reviews and after that I have one more assignment and then I can move on.  I get to see if it is at all possible for someone as cynical as me to fully submit to the idea, NAY the supposed REALITY, of a higher power and believe that said power can fix me.  If that is at all possible it will be extremely significant for me, it will be fucking huge, this step is going to be really fucking hard.  I don't want to seem like a close minded douche bag who is all hung up on the whole 'God in AA' thing, that's not it.  I am just such a negative person, I over analyze everything to death, and faith has never been one of my strong points or really one of my points period.  I guess we will cross that bridge when we come to it though.  Right?  One day at a time.  As promised here is more of my step one work...

Times I tried to quit using and failed

• After I started using heroin for the first time in Baltimore and then in New Jersey I went back to Hartwick College after my very eventful summer vacation.  I brought a bundle of dope with me, assuming I could use it to wean myself off, but you know what happens when you assume... When the dope ran out I lasted maybe two more weeks at college before I stole my friends boyfriend and dropped out, then hitched to NYC to shoot more dope.  This is how I blew off a free ride to college to go hang out with a bunch of homeless kids and shoot heroin in a fucking park (Tompkins Square.)
• I was on methadone for eight months a couple of years ago while living in Maine with my ex J.  Despite being in an intensely fucked up and abusive relationship with J, other aspects of my life were going pretty well; I had a job and an apartment and was getting along well with my mother.  I got kicked off of the clinic I was at for missing some group therapy appointments (because I had a JOB that I felt was slightly more important) they did not taper me, and I relapsed after a week due to the intense physical withdrawals of kicking methadone.  I cleared out my bank account, the remnants of my settlement for being hit by that semi truck I mentioned, in about a month; it all went straight into my dealers pocket.
• I had gone to live with my sister in Co Springs after being homeless and strung out in Denver all winter.  I kicked cold turkey on her couch.  After four or so months of white knuckling my sobriety I went to Vegas to stay with my friend Ava.  I didn't know that she and her husband were strung out at the time.  I relapsed.
• I attempted to kick at my Moms house many many times with limited success.
• Same thing at my dads house in Arkansas.
• I tried to stay clean while visiting my dad in Colorado and ended up shooting dope with my brother, who has his own life shattering heroin addiction to deal with.
• I tried to kick in Maine by taking suboxone.  (See my post 'Utterly powerless over addiction') I lasted about a week before I planned a trip to NYC to get high, roping two friends into the whole thing, and ended up getting loaded and ditching both of them after promising I would not do exactly that.
• I came to SF sober-ish, still drinking and smoking weed, but I had been off heroin for a week or so.  I fully intended on staying clean once I got here.  I got high in my hotel room two hours after I got off the plane.

I have no fucking control over the shit.  I am insane.  I am sick.  When it comes to heroin or alcohol there is no fight, I just give in and give up completely.  The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  Here I am, the fucking epitome of insanity.  It's really scary...

But hey check it out you guys - I AM FUCKING SOBER RIGHT NOW!!!  I have been sober for 36 days!  100% sober for over a month.  That is something I have never done since I started using heroin seven and a half years ago.  It might not sound like much to you but to me it is a huge achievement.  You have no idea what this means to me.  It means that I am not a lost cause, I am not a hopeless case, there is a possibility that even I might get better, that recovery is possible.  We know that's not the pink cloud talking because I already fell out of that shit and I have the scrapes and cuts to prove it.  That shit is just straight fact.  It's just a beginning but at least I have that, it's at least a start.

M suggested that I start writing daily gratitude lists, probably because I am such a downer and I'm always feeling sorry for myself, and I think it's a great idea.  I'm going to close out this post with my first attempt.

Today I am grateful for the following

• My dog Kali.
• As the methadone clinic lady said this morning when I told her I was in bed puking all day yesterday from food poisoning; at least I have a bed to be in.  I am grateful that after seven years of homelessness I now have a roof over my head.
• The fact that I did not wake up dope sick this morning and that I am going to bed clean and sober.
• Having money in my account and food on my EBT card.
• That my neighbor (and currently my only friend in SF) Dwayne was able to assert his rights as a tenant to the police who came to evict him today and that he also has a roof over his head tonight as a result.
• That my health and my sanity were not completely destroyed by my addiction.
• The chance to start over and be a better person tomorrow and the day after that.

Thanks for reading you guys.  As always I wish you all the best of luck and strength in your recovery, and if you need anyone to talk to, I'm here for you. <3

Utterly powerless over addiction

 Update: After beginning work on this blog post I found out that my good friend from back east, T, killed himself earlier this month.  T was a very close friend who I have always considered my family and we have lived together and gone through alot of shit together.  I miss him terribly and wish I could have done something to prevent his suicide.  In light of his tragic death I would like to dedicate this post to T and to his family who is now grieving his loss.  I will always love you my brother, I pray that your pain is over now and that you are in a better place.  The people whose lives you touched will never forget you. <3 Rest in Peace.

T and myself in a squat in Portland, Maine 2011

Recently, it's interesting, I have started re-evaluating how I remember certain events.  My perception at the time of these events really shaped the way I had remembered them until recently, now it's like scales of bullshit have fallen from my eyes and I am starting to see things as they actually were.  I remember one of the last times I went to New York City before moving out west, I left from Portland Maine with two female friends, let's call them Nick and Jack.  Jack is a very close friend of mine.  She is one of those rare people who has the ability to drink or use drugs with moderation.  When she says she can quit something any time she wants to it is actually the truth and not one of those lies addicts tell themselves, this is because Jack is not an addict.  I have always envied and admired this quality in her, sadly I myself clearly do not possess this same strength of character, as history has shown me time and time again.  Nick does not use hard drugs.  I was experiencing a brief period of abstinence from heroin though I was still binge drinking, doing the occasional hallucinagen, and smoking weed like it was crack.   I promised my friends before we left Maine that I would not do any heroin when I got to New York.  In all reality, though I may not have fully realized it at the time, the only real reason I ever went to New York was to shoot dope.  Therefore promising not to was an impossible promise for me to make, to me, NYC is the Disneyland of heroin.  The very first night we got to New York after spending a day in Boston, we were invited back to a squat some friends of mine were staying in.  We all got really drunk, I noticed that one of the guys in the squat was shooting up in the bathroom.  Despite direct pleas from my friends not to use, I bought two bags of heroin and shot them up right in front of them.  Jack was very upset and disappointed with me, I had lied to her and betrayed her trust.  At the time I was angry at them for holding me to my promise, I thought they should understand that I was a dope fiend and I was just doing what dope fiends do, how could they get pissed off at me for doing my thing?  I rationalized the whole thing to myself, I didn't really care how they felt.  Over the next few days I continued to get high, picking up where I had left off with my habit, and stopped hanging out with Nick and Jack.  They found their own people to hang out with while I ran around with my junkie friends. After a week I had basically ditched them in New York City after promising I would not do that exact thing.  This was the THIRD time I had done this same fucking thing to Jack.  She ended up leaving New York and going home by herself, I spent a month or two there following around the boy I started doing dope with 8 years ago who I was sadly (as in pathetic) and desperately in love with for many years even though he would never feel the same way about me, running around shooting mass amounts of heroin, and sleeping in squats or on the street. Nick stayed in New York but would not talk to me, she was clearly disgusted by my lack of resolve.  I have never apologized to Jack for this incident or the two other times I ditched her in New York.  Jack has always been an amazing, immensely patient, and kind friend to me.  I am lucky to have her in my life even still.  I can't imagine how it must have felt for her being on the receiving end of my callous junkie bullshit over and over again.  This incident, for me, really illustrates the nature of my disease.  I am completely and utterly POWERLESS over my addiction.  No matter how much I want to abstain, my will and resolve completely collapses when the opportunity to get high presents itself.  Even if it doesn't, I will seek it out.  That is why seeking out a spiritual path to recovery is my only hope of ever conquering my addiction, I have shown myself time and time and time again that I cannot do it on my own no matter how much I want to.  That is the epitome of powerlessness, my life while using was the epitome of an unmanageable existence.

A lot of what I have been reading in AA with M or in groups from the Big Book lately has correlated to this concept of being powerless.  We have read several stories about people who, even though they wanted to quit drinking and made promises and resolutions to that affect, would suddenly find themselves in a bar close to blacking out or waking up from one days later and wondering what the fuck had just happened.  Bill Ws' story is full of such instances.  Every time we addicts and alcoholics have told ourselves "this time is the last time" without actually doing anything besides relying on our will power, our wills have failed us and we have gone right back to our addictive behaviors.   This has happened to me way more times than I can list, and it is really infuriating and demoralizing, I have learned that I really can't trust myself, and that I have no actual will power to speak of when it comes to drugs and alcohol.  To put it bluntly, that fucking sucks dicks, but unfortunately it is the reality of the situation.  What then can I do to put my life of active drug use behind me?  Like the 2nd step says, I need to "[come] to believe that a power greater than [myself] can restore [me] to sanity" and step 3 "Make a decision to turn [my] will and my life over to the care of God as I under[stand] him."  It's that simple, I cannot do it myself, no one can do it for me, therefor nothing short of DIVINE INTERVENTION can heal me from my insane and hopeless addiction.  I am not going to talk or debate about God right now.  No, I am not a religious person, but like I have said before I am willing to try anything right now that will help me change my life, and I am certainly not going to close the door on God and spirituality just because I harbor some negative opinions about organized religion.  There is a huge difference between religion and faith, or religion and spirituality.  I will not engage in a debate about this right now as it is besides the point.  I'm sure the discussion will be had at some point in the future.

At the conclusion of my two lists about how my life had become unmanageable I wrote the following...
Most of all my day to day life had become exhausting, repetitive, and completely devoid of any joy or hope.  I lived in horrible environments surrounded by (in San Francisco at least) fucked up people and I was turning into a bad person myself.  The brief respites of cheap happiness my drug use allowed me paled in comparison to the overall horror of my life.  Over the years I had lowered every one of my standards and morals and I had given up everything I loved to further my addiction.  I was seriously considering suicide as I felt it was the only escape from the pain of my existence.  I was too exhausted even to continue the daily cycle of my addiction.  I was powerless over drugs and alcohol and my life had become completely unmanageable.

I posted before in 'Scars on my Soul - Past Sex Work and Recovery' about my shame concerning my past actions and how I degraded myself sexually through prostitution, among other things.  (I have to qualify this at this point with the fact that I absolutely DO NOT consider sex work in general to be a shameful occupation.  I just feel that my motivations and the way it manifested through my addictions were harmful to me.  I thoroughly support sex worker rights and its' further legalization to support sex workers and make to it safer for those who practice it.)  I felt as if no one would be able to relate to me and like I had crossed a line and done things I could never take back or make amends for.  I spoke to another mentor I have met recently, let's call her S for the purposes of this blog.  She went through very similar shit as me when she was still using, she was a junkie as well and also sold her body to support her habit, though you would never guess any of that shit from seeing her now.  She is a very strong and respectable woman who is  very successful in life, she radiates confidence and self acceptance, S is an inspiration to me.  Talking to her really helped me gain some perspective and allowed me to hope a little bit for my future.  If someone like S can move on from that kind of depravity and hopelessness there is no reason why I can't as well.  I can only hope that in the future I can provide other women (or men) with the same kind of hope by telling my story.

My dad sent me an awesome package in the mail which I received the other day.  Along with a nice card and some much needed spending money, he went to an art store and bought me a huge oil painting kit, four packs of fancy brushes, another set of oil paints, and an art pad.  I was ecstatic, I really need a creative outlet, and it was such a thoughtful gift.  I love my dad.  He is very sick with cancer and I am trying to spend as much time with him as possible.  I will be going to visit him in the beginning of October, and though being around that side of my family will present a lot of challenges to my newfound sobriety, I am really looking forward to hanging out with my dad.  My father is also a recovered heroin addict, he has over 20 years clean off dope and is another source of hope and inspiration for me.  He does however smoke a shit ton of weed, and I have always enjoyed smoking with him and my siblings in the past.  Now that I am in AA I have quit smoking pot, and it is a point of contention for me because I honestly love marijuana and do not consider it to be a harmful or addictive drug.  It is going to be difficult for me to abstain from it while visiting my dad since I see it as an important bonding experience between us, and since he is dying, I do not want to miss out on any bonding opportunities that may be our last.  More on that subject later.

I am going to Ms house in a little while to finish my step one work, which i have been procrastinating on like a total douchebag.  Once I have finished it I will post it here.  Thank you for reading.  As always please comment or contact me if you need any help or support with anything, and I wish you all the best of luck and strength in your individual journeys. <3

PS - Today is my 30 day sobriety birthday!

scars on my soul

 Update: After writing this I texted my sponsor assuming she was asleep.  She called me right away, I told her what I was going through and how I was starting to feel hopeless and she helped me put things in perspective.  I need to try and pace myself instead of trying to fix everything right away.  I'm only on my first step.  She assured me that as I continue to work the program I will work on all of this shit in depth and that once I define and turn my life over to my higher power I will feel a lot of relief.  She also told me that on my fourth step I can work on the resentments I have towards myself as well as other people and situations and that my on my fifth step she will help me prioritize my shit and figure out where to start with healing myself and my life. I am really starting to trust her and am very thankful that she approached me at my first SF meeting and offered her help, I don't think I could do this without her support. I am going to try and hit an early meeting after I go to the clinic and then I'm going to two meetings at night with my sponsor and my grand-sponsor.  This goes back to the issue of blind faith, something I have never had because I always over analyze shit and quit before I even start to try.  I know I'm really fucked up but I'm not the only one and I'm not the worst addict that ever lived.  If people like me and people who have been through and done worse shit then me can recover, then I can too, I just need to have some faith.  I thought about deleting this but then I reminded myself that I am not alone in my pain and that it might help someone else to see it and know that they are not the only one who has been fucked up.

Continuing to work on my first step, it's a lot harder then I expected to actually write this shit down.  If you are easily triggered by descriptions of traumatic events, abuse, and drug fueled depravity you might not want to read this.

Times that my life was unmanageable (Continued)

• I have had hepatitis C for seven years now because I knowingly shared needles and took rinses from people who had it.  I didn't care and thought it was no big deal.  My father is dying from liver cancer right now because that is how his hep C progressed.  It is a big fucking deal.
• For five years I continued to drink heavily after testing positive for hep C even after my doctor told me I was destroying my liver and my LFTs reflecting the damage were shown to me.  I only stopped drinking when I started coughing up blood, blacking out randomly after hours of drinking and not getting drunk, and feeling pain in my liver the day after drinking.
• A month after I moved to San Francisco I got beat up and robbed on sixth street because I was there at night smoking crack and shooting dope.
• Several of my good friends have overdosed because of heroin I sold to them, gave them, or shot them up with.  None of them died in these situations because I always carry Narcan kits, but they easily could have.
• I have had dozens of friends die from overdoses, commit suicide, die on the streets, or be killed.
• I have overdosed myself on heroin twice, over amped a couple of times on meth, and twice from shooting coke and crack.  Had I not been with friends I could have died each of these times.
• I have been raped three times as a result of getting high or going on missions to by drugs in dangerous places or with dangerous people.  I have been physically assaulted numerous times.  I would intentionally put myself into situations in which I could get killed or hurt because I wanted to die.
• I was raped, robbed, and almost killed by a man I met while prostituting myself to buy crack and heroin.
• I have prostituted myself for money to buy drugs more times than I am willing to admit to myself and I completely despise myself for it.
• I have literally had psychotic breaks from reality while using drugs, especially when I used to shoot meth / coke and smoke crack.  There have been months at a time where I ran around actively hallucinating people chasing me, would hear everyone around me talking shit about me, and would see faces of my rapists on random people, loudly talk to myself and scream at strangers in the street because I was so thwacked.
• I would constantly pick at my skin or pull out my body hair (especially my eyebrows and arm hair) with tweezers while high.  I could not control the obsession and would spend entire days and nights sitting in the same spot on my floor or standing in front of the mirror picking.  I did this to the point of seriously disfiguring myself and was completely unable to stop myself.
• I have neglected my dog because I was dopesick.  I would lay in bed for days at a time without taking her out just letting her piss and shit on the floor.

As you can see I am a total piece of shit.  I am starting to understand how important this initial step is to my recovery.  I didn't realize how fucked up I was when I was using.  I thought I was a decent, moral person despite my drug use.  I would look down on and judge other drug users.  My life was completely fucking out of control.  I was lying to myself.  I understand the whole concept of giving myself over to a higher power and relinquishing my control, because I have no control over my addiction.  I am lucky to be alive.   I am terrified though that I have scarred my soul with this shit, that there is no way to heal or make amends for a lot of the shit I have put myself and the people I love through.  I am not going to use this as an excuse to feel sorry for myself, an excuse to go back to the way I was, I just have no idea how I can ever be a somewhat normal person given my past.  I'm not sure if I can handle the truth of how much I have destroyed my life.  There's just so much horrible shit, it's a lot easier to put it out of my mind and feel nothing.  Maybe I am getting ahead of myself.  I feel very overwhelmed right now. One day at a time though right?  I'm just going to focus on not using right now, tomorrow is another day.

I am going to pray, go to sleep, and call my sponsor in the morning. Stay strong everyone.  Goodnight.

Hi, I'm Erica, and I'm an addict

Wanted to share a couple of things today, mainly what I am currently working on in AA for my first step. As some, but not all, of you know - the first step in Alcoholics Anonymous is...

We admitted we were powerless over alcohol-- that our lives had become unmanageable.

Obviously this is the same for drugs as well.  I go to AA as opposed to NA for a couple of reasons which I'm sure I will expand upon later.  Suffice it to say for right now that I feel like alcoholism and heroin addiction are very similar and I can almost always relate to what alcoholics say in meetings.  I consider my main problem to be my heroin addiction, but I have an addictive personality in general, if it's not one thing it's the next.  Before I ever shot dope I was binge drinking with my friends in Tompkins Square or on the rocks in Portland, Maine and waking myself up with sidewalk slams, so it applies either way.

The exact wording of this step is, in a nutshell, exactly why I got onto a clinic and started going to meetings in the first place.  I was willing to do anything at all that might help me kick my heroin addiction, I didn't know anything except for the fact that my life was out of control and I could not continue to live the way I was living.  I would honestly rather have died than live another day trapped in the nightmare of my addiction.  It is essential for me that I never forget the reality of that nightmare, the exhausting and painful personal hell I had created for myself with drugs and alcohol and mental instability.  In order to keep that reality in the forefront of my mind I need to fully understand the nature of my old life and why it was so unmanageable.  My sponsor M gave me some step work, essentially writing exercises  that help you work the steps, the first 'assignment' was to make a list of the ways in which my life had become unmanageable.  The second was to write about some of the specific instances in which my life was unmanageable.  The second list is a work in progress still but I am going to share with you my first list and also what I have done so far on the second one.

Ways in which my life as an addict had become unmanageable

• The financial cost of supporting my habit was becoming impossible to afford
• Multiple legal issues had arisen from my criminal efforts to pay for my habit
• I was losing my fucking mind, going insane
• My health was rapidly deteriorating
• My relationship with my mother especially, but also with the rest of my family, was being destroyed by my selfish actions and unwillingness to look at my addiction
• I was unemployable and had no job prospects or means with which to support myself, I was relying on my mother to pay my rent, and stealing to supply whatever else I needed
• I felt like I wasn't taking very good care of or paying enough attention to my dog, I would subject her to stressful situations, environments, and individuals while using
• I had no real friends, lots of fair-weather friends
• My level of criminality and my criminal mentality / activity continued to increase, i was consistently crossing my previously set moral boundaries, I had no rules for myself or my behavior
• I was trashing my physical experience, I looked like crap but I didn't realize it because when I'm high I think I'm hot shit
• I was frequently put into, or put myself into, situations where my physical safety and even my life was in danger (violence, overdoses, etc)
• I was frequently a victim of physical violence and intimidation, I felt afraid for my safety all the time, paranoia set in as a result
• I was surrounded by crazy, untrustworthy, mean-spirited, and dangerous people
• I felt completely hopeless, like I had no future, and I wanted to die

 In my second list I am writing about experiences I had during my addiction that illustrate how my life had become unmanageable.  This is going to be an ongoing process for me because there is just so much shit that was fucked up about my life while I was using.  I am going to be very honest here because I know I am not the only person who has been through shit like this, and I can only hope that it will help other people to read about my experiences, so I'm not going to hold back.  If you feel like making stupid comments about the shit I have been through or the shit I have done, I seriously suggest you rethink that urge.  Don't be a dick.

Times that my life was unmanagable

• I stole a hundred dollars from my mother by adding money from her bank account to a linked paypal account she helped me set up.  I did this even though she was sending me money on a regular basis at the time to pay for shipping on my ebay sales.  This is the incident that resulted in us not speaking for the past four months.  I have yet to fully take responsibility and apologize.  
• I have been arrested for shoplifting three times this year.
• I can't return to a certain east coast city because of a (hypothetical) unresolved legal issue there.  This was (theoretically) the result of multiple drug charges over the years and failures to appear in court or attend drug classes.
• I was arrested for shoplifting at Ross when I had a previous bench warrant for shoplifting.  To avoid going to jail, and because I am a lunatic when I am on heroin, I cut my wrists in the bathroom while being detained by loss prevention awaiting the arrival of the police.  The police came and had me stand at the top of the escalator, bleeding profusely.  The entire store saw me standing there in restraints with a cop holding my arm to stop my blood from flowing out of my wrist, a pool of blood already collecting on the tile floor. This was obviously a humiliating experience. I was 5150ed, brought into the hospital for mandatory psych evaluation, and held for 20 hours before being released. 
• I got into a physical altercation with the security guard at the Fillmore Safeway.  While trying to escape with stolen coffee, dog food, socks, and people food; and while holding my small dog Kali, I was thrown to the ground.  Kali easily could have been hurt.
• I used my stun gun on a Walgreens employee who caught me shoplifting in order to flee the store because I was dopesick and didn't want to go to jail.  This is especially reprehensible because I have been attacked with a stun gun myself and it was arguably the most traumatic experience of my life. (I know that I'm getting ahead of myself, but how the fuck do you make amends for something like that!?)
• When I was selling coke and heroin in large quantities on the east coast (maybe), a customer stole a spare set of keys from my apartment and gave them to a friend to rob me.  I was alone in my apartment with my dog one night when the door opened and a 6'5'' + man ran in brandishing a tazer.  He proceeded to taze me with the stun gun upwards of twenty times leaving burns all over my face, neck, and stomach, and throw me around the room breaking everything in my apartment and demanding I give him all of my money and drugs.  I fought back and screamed for help the entire time, the adrenaline coursing through my body was stronger than the zaps from the stun gun.  He tried to go towards my dog to attack her and I used every ounce of strength I had to get her out of the room and focus his violence back onto myself so she could get to safety and hide in the other room.  He finally gave up and ran out of the apartment with nothing after I managed to open the door and scream into the hallway twice for help.  This is when I noticed the keys in the door.  Looking out the window, I saw my custy, who I thought was my friend prior to this incident, drive him away in her truck.  For the next month I holed up in my friends apartment behind three deadbolted doors sitting on his bed with a loaded AK-47 beside me.  I was absolutely terrified, yet I continued to meet with my runners and sell drugs through them in order to support my massive dope habit and my addiction to making easy money.  I still frequently have nightmares and flashbacks about this experience.

That's it for now, honestly talking about that last incident makes me really uneasy so I am going to take a break and continue transcribing my list a little later.

Besides working on my first step I am going to meetings almost every day and working with my sponsor.  I am trying to challenge my own sense of inadequecy (sic?) in social settings and working on feeling more comfortable in my own skin without being high all the time.  I feel much better in general, and I am coming to terms that I am not the party girl and social butterfly I have tried to force myself to be for years and years, there is nothing wrong with being an introvert, I just need to challenge myself and not isolate completely.

I shared in a group for the first time since going to meetings in San Francisco the other day.  I have been trying to listen more this time because I used to share a lot when I went to meetings and I did it for the wrong reasons.  I have no problem, as you can see, talking about myself and being introspective.  I have years of therapy and institutionalization throughout my adolescent and teenage years to thank for those lovely boundary issues. I went to the Elan School for three years growing up, if you do not know what that is I am sure I will talk about it later, and you can always look it up on Wikipedia as it has garnered quite a bit of media controversy recently.  Anyways, I have just as much to gain from listening and internalizing other peoples shares as I do from sharing myself. I talked about having blind faith in my recovery and the promises of AA, that even though I have no idea what recovery for me will look like because I have always been fucked up, I am willing to try anything that might help me get closer to happiness. 

More later, thanks for reading.  Please use the contact form or comment on this post if you have any questions / comments or just need someone to talk to.