Clever Blog Title #2

I’ll be the first to admit that I have attachment issues. Codependency paired with a crippling fear of abandonment and anxiety. So anyone who follows my blog will remember the agony I went through this summer in falling in love. Whenever I really like someone, I spend so much time agonizing over whether or not I should be open about how much I like them.

Cosmopolitan says men love a chase.

So it must be true.

I know I can come on a little strong, I’m an intense person but it kind of sucks feeling like you have to dial yourself back constantly? So I let out the silly, sassy and sarcastic side of myself easily but when it comes to being vulnerable I have an issue.

I’ve come to the point where I assume either no one finds the things sweet, endearing or attractive that I do OR there are so few that chances I connect who loves like this is pretty fucking slim and is that even a bad thing? Perhaps my intense nature would be tripled and I would combust.

My best friend is probably as weird as me, but I think it overwhelms him because he disappears for years at a time and watches me from afar. I’ve come to accept him for who he is, and I don’t even get upset anymore. Every time you look at your ass and see our tattoo you have to think of me, but we both know you didn’t need that. I can’t explain him to people because they wouldn’t get it so I don’t bother.

I don’t know anymore: good things hurt me. Pleasure hurts me, pain pleases me and I can’t see the line sometimes. I have always said that I am enamored by that dark side of my mind. It’s the reason I write in the first place, and cry listening to a really good song but I suppose I wouldn’t need to if it didn’t exist.. I don’t know what it is about being in the pits of despair and finding it beautiful but that’s just how it is.

I’m not afraid to be alone. I’ve come to respect, and perhaps not always adore myself but I certainly tolerate and appreciate myself enough now that I don’t need to be smacked out 24/7 or not alone.

There is something so terrifying and yet thrilling about feeling like I have no choice in something and that I am just destined/doomed/driven by some unseen force.

I’m an unnervingly open person at times, no shame in my past in heroin addiction. I’m still a heroin addict, and I still fucking love heroin but I can’t do it anymore because it destroys me. My greatest love and greatest downfall.

When I’ve done anything hard it awakens this monster that I’ve kept locked away and unfed for so long that only feels satisfied when I can’t move for a moment and I feel like I’m one more hit away from death. It’s voracious.

Funny how I stopped writing when I was using because of how afraid of myself I was.

I’m still afraid, mainly if I end up caring what you think because most people I could give a fuck what they think of me. Because I can’t change the core of who I am, I can change how I handle it and who I show it to but who I am is something I hope people can accept.

But at least my dog loves me.


I guess I should start writing again

Something in me has fucking changed.
I believed I fell in love this summer but I think it was more of a self destructive infatuation. I’ve often been the type of girl who sticks in long term relationships, but I am coming to a point where I would rather avoid it for a while. Like maybe I fare better on my own, when I have no one to take care of and I can just have fun.

My guilt complex wouldn’t usually allow me to feel this way, and I don’t feel “jaded” per se. I just need a fucking break from being someone’s girlfriend. Being expected to be home, be faithful. I do all of the extras too like do their laundry, cook for them, pack them lunches, back rubs, listening to all of the rambling when we’re out of our minds.

I notice the same tendencies in the men and women I date, and perhaps that says more about me than anything else.

When I broke up with my first and second long-term boyfriends, respectively I went through quite a lot of emotional turmoil. I drank myself into blackouts for two months straight with the first, and with the second… let’s just say I made some poor decisions.

But with this most current “breakup” it was only a couple of months but it was heavy, because of the poisonous mixture of our similar and polar opposite characteristics. So addicting but very toxic. Mixed signals, screaming matches… perhaps it isn’t a good idea to date someone with a temper as hot as your own? Or another addict… but I have a problem with problems.

It fucked with my recovery, my mental health, and dating someone who is a sociopath who believes they are an empath is an extremely frustrating scenario. Denial. It wreaked havoc on me in the beginning, but interestingly enough as time progressed I just became numb to the entire experience.

And yet, despite my tendency to become attached to people way too quickly here I am not giving a fuck about this entire situation. I just don’t care. I don’t know why, I did love and care for him but as time progressed and I could see he had nothing for me underneath that very believable front I guess I realized I wasn’t losing anything.

It sounds harsh, but it’s just my experience.
I haven’t shed a single tear since I ended this, and typically I invest my entire self into my relationships and I feel so torn apart afterwards but I just feel nothing other than a mild annoyance, and just empathy mixed with a bit of pity.

Watching someone struggle with addiction is extremely difficult for me, and I feel responsible in some strange way, perhaps as another addict, that I must do something to help you through this. Watching the denial, hearing the exact same things I used to say come out of his mouth like: “I’ll just do it once a while, I can’t stop completely.” “I need this to work.” “I’ll just get it in higher quality, so I don’t need as much.” is fucking heartbreaking.

I resonate with other addicts better than anyone else, so everything is more intense with them: conversations, trips, sex, or any form of intimacy is so utterly intoxicating but on a level that is a bit dangerous.

I do everything with such intensity that it’s hard not to become addicted again.

Dedicated to my sad girls

Some people try to avoid feeling sad

I have always felt so drawn by it, and I never understood why before
Something so beautiful in the melancholy
Sadness is profound, and vast
It must be respected
It’s like death
It makes us angry, and question life but it is necessary and it is one of the few things that make enough sense to come back to

My sadness gives me purpose
My sadness enables me to create

I find my strengths within my weaknesses

Don’t read if you don’t like crazy :)

It’s time to put all of my cryptic blog posts into perspective because I’ve had a weird fucking week.

I’ll be the first to admit that I have attachment issues. If I feel really connected to someone I focus on that a lot because it made me feel good, which on its own is a small enough feat to deal with. However, I have also been weaning down on my methadone. I went down 2mg on Friday which doesn’t seem that big but the usual dosing ratio for weans is 10% or less and I am now on 28mg. It’s a big jump. I don’t feel any withdrawal symptoms, nothing worth taking note of at least; so far my wean has been a pretty comfortable experience as far as I can tell. Compared to heroin withdrawals, it’s wonderful.. and the fact that the weight I’ve gained is melting off makes me happy too. I was at 130 mg which is a relatively high dose, and after a year of stability I was asked to wean at least below 120 because they don’t know the long-term effects of dosing that high for long periods of time.

I was so scared, and then a few months later I saw I had gained like 70lbs in recovery. 20 of that was probably needed, and the rest I despised. I’ve lost about 30 now, so I would like to go another 20. But I didn’t begin losing weight, regardless of how well I ate and exercised regularly until I went below 50mg. High dose = weight gain.

Anyhow, some other things are going on between my hormones and my doses. I have only been in a few serious relationships.. I had a girlfriend early on, I was young… 2 years on and off, then my first serious boyfriend and I started dating when I was 17 and I stayed with him for one week short of 5 years. Things got so toxic and ugly, we began dating when I was still using and continued after the fact. Things were just… ugly. I am always hesitant to call people “abusive” but I am learning you can still be a decent person, and an abusive one. There are beautiful people with hideous qualities, as in: every single one of us.

We broke up two years ago, and have remained in some sort of contact since although it was usually sparse until the end of this May after my “current” (at the time) boyfriend and I had broken up. We did psychedelics and went to a concert, I think it made him feel really nostalgic, as those things tend to do. But since then I have felt a sort of pressure from him, knowing he is suffering and missing what we once had. I am uncomfortable, because I am still grieving from a recent heartbreak at this time but he gets so wrapped up in how hes feeling.

I had been so depressed these past few months, and a few weeks ago I started finally feeling like myself again. I decided to get my tattoos fixed up, go out again, and be happy, and treat myself to the things I wanted to do. Live and not just be alive.

I have had these experiences, that I can’t get into too much because my parents read these blogs (hi mom) and I have no idea what it all means or if it will mean anything a month from now. It makes me happy, it’s kind of beautiful and I’m addicted to an experience instead of a substance.

I decided now was a good time to talk to the ex I had been hanging out with again, and ask him if he would ever be satisfied as my friend or if it would hurt him watching me move on still? He reacted in a negative way, and then apologized. Then lashed out at me again, in, I dare say: an abusive manner (which is a bit soul crushing).

I had a real good cry after that one.

I continue to enjoy my life, and then the boyfriend I broke up with in May who shattered my world for a little while decides that 4am is a good time to call me up, drunk from a blocked phone number, but say nothing. Just to wake me up.

I had no idea who was calling so I decided to hang up.
Then an unknown number asks me to check my spam box.
And then it’s a big outpour of regrets and “I fucked up” ‘s and “I miss you” ‘s and what else you’d expect from a horny drunk dude.

I knew this would happen… and never mind that this is the same night I think to myself for the first in a while throughout these three years (it does happen from time to time) that “Hey, I should just fucking get high. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, and no one really has to know do they? Why does it have to be a big deal. I’m not the same person I was before.” I know I act manipulative when I ask people to get opiates for me, and they shouldn’t listen to me. Listen to your gut people, it IS a bad idea, those warning lights are there for a reason. I am good at being manipulative when I want to though, I forget that sometimes.

I was strong through this bullshit with my ex though. He continued with it yesterday, and I am so fucking glad that I love myself enough to not give a shit. (If you’re reading this, because you realized you fucked up after you cheated on me and treated me like garbage. Good. Learn from your mistakes, and treat the next girl better than you treated me. Spite is easy, I wish you well… just the hell away from me.)

SO by yesterday afternoon I am bugging the fuck out with anxiety. But I can’t go to yoga yet because I don’t want to mess up my butt tattoo again. So I go on a 15k bike ride, and nope. Still don’t feel better even after all that sun and biking. So I text the fuck out of people, and piss them off and make everyone sick of me and my rambling anxious ass so I decide I’m gonna get some drugs.

I don’t have money but I can plan to get drugs.
And by drugs, I mean opiates… I’m not perfect and I am not in narcotics anonymous, or an abstinence based recovery. I drink mushroom tea, I smoke weed (although its more socially acceptable for me to somehow because the government agrees I need it medically?), and I drink alcohol from time to time. But I am going to fucking college, and I have my shit together for once in my life while also being able to be a little bit crazy because that’s who I am.

I’ll pick up later. I’m going to bed, because I’ve made an anxious ass out of myself. I wake up in the morning, someone I care about thinks I’m annoying this morning too which always makes me act like a kicked puppy. I’m crying, I realize I should probably go to yoga but I feel so shitty and I have CRAVINGS FOR DRUGS.

So, I do something smart for once and call my addictions counselor and leave her a very sad message. She phoned back within an hour and probably thought we were going to have a short call, but when I got into what my week had been like she listened and her voice was like the calm in this storm I needed to remind me of how fucking good I’ve been doing.

So now I’m on my fourth joint in the last 40 minutes or so, I’m crying but its good, I have my yoga class booked and I cancelled my bad idea plans.

Want to see more of the emotional roller coaster of my mind?
Tune in, I have no idea when! I either write 6x a day or once a month. 🙂


Laying in a dark room with sad music

You know when something or someone is bad for you but you continue to indulge yourself anyhow?

I’ve gone from a place of utter despair and helplessness to feeling kind of good about myself for the first time in a while. I get so carried away with how I feel sometimes, and then I feel like an idiot. I think I put substance into something that never existed in the first place.

I feel so receptive to people, and think I pick up on certain things but perhaps I’m just fooling myself here. I’m just grasping at straws for something I wish I had. I don’t fixate on a certain outcome when any kind of friendship, relationship, etc. forms but I am often reminded of how idealistic I can be.

I want to accept feeling this way, but I don’t know how I can stand it some days.
I can’t stand myself today, and when I try to talk about it I sound like an idiot and I push people away from me that I want to pull closer.

I believe in times like these, that I am just better off closing myself off to the idea of relationships in the future. If I never intend to go there again, with anyone, I can’t disappoint myself or put my expectations as a delusional level.

I’m crying so much that my neck is leaking… I don’t know why per se. I mostly just feel like an idiot, but I’m glad I document the way my thoughts turn up and down and up and down over and over again so that I can study it maybe. I’m too guarded to become heartbroken again, I don’t know how to be patient anymore.

I feel so consumed by my thoughts, and what I’ve been experiencing but I feel utterly alone in this experience and it depresses me.

I’m fine by myself, I’m functional and productive and I experience joy. I suppose because of the type of nurturing person that I am that I enjoy being able to make the most of those qualities.

I just want to sleep for a very long time.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately but it’s something.

Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality

I would gladly take on every ounce of pain for you.
Not that I don’t believe you are capable of handling your own burdens, because I know that you are strong.

Just give me all of your sadness, fear, resentment, and anger
I can take the weight
Take it out on me
I’ve been learning to go with my gut, and my heart… and to ignore my pesky brain.

A part of me tells me that I need to run away
But I already know that won’t happen
Something is so satisfying about just giving in
Not to be confused with giving up

Something so helpless and beautiful about losing control
I have always been so focused on keeping certain parts of me in check
Not that I don’t like to be wild, but I often fear letting myself out because of those who cannot handle me

I feel both fearless, and yet terrified
It’s electric

This feels familiar and yet foreign, like something I haven’t ever experienced but somehow it feels like home

This is usually when I run
But something tells me to stay

Bring on the uncertainty, and the pain, anxiousness and disappointment
It’s all a part of this ride
Perhaps I’m the one who’s electric, every feeling big or small is some form of shock that varies in intensity

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning, being smothered by my mind, the weight can nearly crush my soul

As of late I feel so empowered by my emotions, and this intensity
I have desires, and at times they consume me body, mind and soul

I just don’t feel afraid anymore of what might happen if I take chances
I went from one extreme to the other in how I lived addicted to heroin, to locking myself away in my room the majority of the time

Now that I write that, I realize that isn’t all that different from using heroin
I would go out to score, or to make money and then I would buy drugs and go home
Which is probably why it took so long to realize I was having seizures

I just wanted to be alone with my sickness

But I have lived in such fear these past three years, and of what?
I am not a fragile, broken, little girl who needs to be supervised
It’s not as if deciding to go out on Friday night will mean that I’m suddenly going to wake up in 2013 again.

I just want to do more than simply breathe, I want to live.


Just some words

It feels like I’ve been asleep for a very long time. Perhaps asleep isn’t the best description… I feel like I’ve been in a fog that I wasn’t aware of until just now. That parts of me have been sleeping these past few years, and I am realizing that they are still a part of me.

Parts I had suppressed for my own “well-being” in the name of recovery.

I feel so raw, like the outer layer of my skin has been removed and I am exposed to the world. I had forgotten how it felt to be so consumed by a feeling, or another being. To feel afraid and vulnerable but also exhilarated from the uncertainty.


I feel inspired, like I have been quieting my passion because of the way I am sometimes rejected for it. I often tell people, not to feel shame or that there is “something wrong” with them because of these intense emotions, picking up on the emotions of others.. perhaps I should take my own advice? We are rejected by so many people because we are taught from a young age to bury what you feel and perceive if it might make someone “uncomfortable” (which, incidentally is also a product of this upbringing we are subject to on a mass scale).

I get so angry that I shake, I get so sad that I physically feel numb and like my limbs are made of lead, I feel so happy that I could cartwheel instead of walk. I love so hard that it burns me. Sometimes I am so overwhelmed by the grief of those who I’ve lost both physically and emotionally.

I like to get hurt, and I feel compelled to hurt myself when I feel so intense that I need to bring myself back to my body- but I can’t tell anyone when I feel this way or they feel obligated to stop me.

But why?
Because it’ll leave a scar?

I am always looking for some way to channel my emotions, and in many ways I have that. Whether I’m getting tattooed, doing sun salutations, riding my bike, pouring my soul into someone else, writing, playing piano, singing, dancing in the shower or in the crowd… whatever it may be. There is a way to channel these things, but that doesn’t mean we have to eliminate these feelings. It’s merely a way to comprehend them, and ride that wave. I am growing used to some discomfort.

Life is funny sometimes.


Can’t sleep: words will eat me

There is something painfully beautiful about sadness.
Something I love about feeling trapped within my own feelings and thoughts.

Something so good about giving in.

Can we help the way we feel? We can proceed with caution… but perhaps I need to embrace myself. I used to think that sadness was my primary inspiration, but perhaps its love. Love is painful, its delightful, exciting,

I don’t even know what to call how I feel. I am already in so deep, I’m furiously trying to rebuild the walls I tore down in such a rush. I am listening to the same song on repeat over and over again because it feels like the words are bleeding from my soul.

I can’t sleep.

How do you capture something without scaring it away? Hunting was never my forte.

Am I sick?
I’ve always been told this was sickness, this intensity. Overwhelming emotions, crying from happiness, shaking, muttering reassurances to myself, doing the sign language alphabet repeatedly because I like to do something with my hands.

Chewing on my lip ring, tongue ring. Orally fixated, because it stops me from talking.

Keep me away from keyboards…

Perhaps I need something to completely obliterate this cage I’ve built around myself. I tell myself its for my own protection, but I am beginning to see that it is hindering me. There’s no room to fly in this thing.

Delusional or Intuitive?

Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between intuition and delusion. I feel so connected to someone, but maybe they’re just using me? I worry they’re using me, but maybe I’m just being hard on myself? I worry that people just find me overwhelming, or get tired of me too quickly. If I spend a lot of time with someone I fear that they’ll grow to hate me, and my faults- but when I rarely see someone I really enjoy I feel a bit lost.

I feel like I should guard myself from falling in love, heartbreak is a part of life but it makes me want to kill myself when it happens. I know how disappointed I feel when I get my foolish hopes up. I get attached to people too easily, and I get too intense, and then I scare them away. Perhaps I am better off keeping my mouth shut, lest I stick my foot in it again.

So what do I do, keep letting my heart get the best of me and hate myself for it repeatedly or should I just avoid people that I really connect to.. I don’t know how to handle this level of emotional intensity, which is why I have a history of self-medicating. I need to dull my senses somewhat to get through today, tomorrow and so on. I feel like I’m being burned, but that’s not even a good analogy because physical pain is something tangible that I even get enjoyment out of at times. Sadness, melancholy breeds creativity but I feel sometimes that it will be the death of me.

Will people stay around if I act like I don’t care, instead of getting excited about something potentially amazing or will that just push them away further. I feel stuck because in my experience, the only way that someone will want to stay around is if I keep parts of myself hidden. Which is depressing because it leads me to believe that no one can ever love every part of me, or me as a whole because there are parts of me that perhaps no one can love.

Its frustrating, being able to pick up on people’s emotions but having absolutely no idea what they’re truly thinking.

Sometimes I want to smash a brick into my head until the only word I can say is “salad.”


When Love and Ownership are Conflated

Some people confuse love with ownership, or perhaps view them as one in the same: as if a human being can ever truly be owned and contained into something smaller than it is meant to be. My soul is bigger than my body, and even I can’t hold onto it sometimes so how could someone else?

Love is creative, it is wanting to share your knowledge and profound experiences with those you love. Love is freedom, and wanting those you love to be free to take advantage of every experience possible.

Love is limitless.
And love is never to be used as a tool of abuse, or it stops being love and becomes something much more sinister.

If you love someone, you love who they are. Encourage the changes they make that are positive, but expect no change. How can you say you love someone if you wish they were someone else?

This is coming from someone who has been the burden of the family, (probably still am to a large extent, I’m just a productive burden now) and the failure. Wallowing in my own filth and a pile of needles and seeing no way out. I still don’t believe that love, if it is truly love should be a conditional concept.

Maybe I sound idealistic, but isn’t that part of what makes life so wonderful? Having a little bit of hope, ideal and some sunshine to get through the rain? Whatever it is in us that makes us persevere in times of emotional turmoil.

Especially for those of us who carry the emotional burdens of those who surround us. We know who we are, the “mentally ill” and emotionally “unstable.” You are not sick for feeling the sadness of the guy on the bus, or the excitement of the kid you see getting a balloon animal. It’s called being observant, compassionate and empathetic. It is a virtuous quality that I refuse to have extinguished by anyone or anything.

Life is so finite, I see no reason to not relish in every second and indulge in every possible opportunity that presents itself to us. I want to leave my mark on this world, and positively impact as many people as I possibly can and enjoy.

I suppose my advice of the day is that, if someone cannot be happy for you when you are happy… this person doesn’t love you.