i haven't

snorted a line
smoked a joint
popped a pill
in a whole year.

i haven't
been fired
moved out of state
been late on rent
in a whole year

i haven't
ruined a family dinner
locked myself in a room for three days
wanted to kill myself
in a whole year

i haven't
woken up somewhere i didn't want to be
stolen from my work
lied about using
gotten a nose bleed
been afraid to look people in the eye
hated myself and wanted to die
in a whole year.

there's prolly some connection.

in the last year i've
faced some of my biggest fears
dealt with life without the help of narcotics
become less of a liar
fought through fear to look at myself
accepted myself as human
asked other people to help
and let them.

i've made some of the best friends i've ever had
both in real life
and on the interweb
i've found true love
and lost it
and lived through it

i've faced death
and lonliness
and consequences of bad behavior.

i'm so blessed to be here and to be
present.

i have some goals for the year ahead.
the most important of which is to
find happiness
in the present.

to be happy where i am
not
where i will be when [fill in the blank]

i'm being laid off from work.
they are paying for school.
i have some fear that things won't work out the way they should
ahahaha
like i have ever had any control
over the way things should happen
and shit, if i did, i'd fuck it all up.

so i look for a new job
with the same employer
and put the results
in god's hands.

things are good today.
there are things i want that i don't have
but my happiness is not contigent on them

today.

home tomorrow off tuesday back at work on wednesday

things are good thanks for
your thoughts and prayers.

i love you all
especially you.

i will prolly update tuesday
that's my anniversary.

i'll be drug and alcohol free for one year
on halloween.

fuck that's a long ass time, dudes!

just popping in for a quickie

the viewing was nice she looked great i swear i wanted to take pictures but apparently you don't do that. heh.

the service was simple and pretty and i said that shit even though i had to stop while i wiped the tears away so i could read the last little paragraph of what i wrote.

it was very nice but the hardest part was when my 3 year old nephew said "goodnight mommom." fucking kids i tell ya. get me everytime.

i'm so grateful that i got to go home for a few days and regroup and be with friends. it gave me the extra little strength i needed to not lose it down here.

i am blessed.

oh ya and just so you don't think i'm entirely sane... on the flights down i just closed my eyes and pretended that my true love was sitting next to me saying all the right things as i know he would. i daydreamed that we put the armrest up and that i laid my head on his shoulder while i cried quietly and he brushed the hair behind my ear. it made all the difference in the world. i love him. more now than ever.

see? crazyland here i come!!?!

interment is today at one and it's raining just like it's supoosed to.

maybe today they'll let me take pictures.

my mom told me they're leaving me time to say a little something about my grandmother at the end of the service

this is what i came up with:

most of my life i’ve been wondering where in the world my wild streak comes from. i’m sure my family has spent time wondering the same. this week it dawned on me that i came by it honestly.

mommom gave me my wild streak.

she was not one to speak only when spoken to, nor was she one to keep her opinions to herself. and because i loved those things in her so much, i’m able to love myself a little bit more today. and i think she would be happy about that.


what do you think?

wanna hear some shit?

of course you do.

so the other night i had a sex date. yes, i'm having sex and no i'm not talking about it because he's asked me not to write about him on my blog.

if i were going to write about him i would tell you that we are good friends, we are honest with each other and we're fucking. if i were going to write about him i would also tell you that neither of us wants a relationship and that if we did, it wouldn't be with each other. well, let's just say that if i wanted a relationship right now, that i'd be looking elsewhere. if i were able to tell you about him, that is.

cuz he doesn't want kids. and i do. and that's like a pretty major thing. there's other stuff too, that i would tell you if i were going to write about him. but i'm not.

so i go over there to have sex the other night and in the middle of it, well the begining actually, i realize that this is not what i wanted or needed. so i stop.


this is big people. i stopped in the middle of having sex. odd.

i say that the only way i know out of this is for me to leave.

he says i don't have to leave just cuz we're not going to have sex. he's a nice boy.

he says "do you want to be consoled?"

i say, "desperately, but not by you." i think it came across not so harsh in person as it sounds typing it just now.

he doesn't love me. we are not in love. that's fine because we both know that. i have been open and honest with myself this time around. and with the people who are in my life.

honestly i tried NOT to have sex with this guy and it didn't work. so now i just get to be honest and open about my feelings. i get to watch it and be honest and make sure no one is getting hurt, especially not myself. cuz i'm good at that.

so after i leave it dawns on me what happened. i send him a text message.

"i'm sorry. i need to be emotionally loved and not physically. i just got confused. i'm sorry."

WOW. again people i need to say WOW!!! where in the hell did that come from? who the fuck am i alluva sudden dr. phil? how in the fuck did i get so in touch with my feelings????

i'll tell you how. every experience in the last few months has lead me to where i am right now. i chose to take myself out of a painfully wrong situation. that is growth mutherfuckers.

because i've been able to look at some hard truths about myself and discuss them with others and do the tough stuff, i'm able to have this vocabulary. the words to match up with the feelings.

my fucking grandmother died. i need someone to hold me while i sob. to brush back the hair from my face while i get snot all over his shoulder. i need and want that. someone who loves me.

i don't have that right now. and while it sucks deeply, i will live. oh my god how much better is that than what i would have done in this situation two months ago???

two months ago one of two things would've happened...


1. i would lay there having sex feeling miserable and hating myself for it all the while resenting him for not being who i needed him to be. i would leave his house crying and feeling like a hooker.

2. i would instantaneously convince myself that i was in love with him even though i know i'm not. then the next few weeks would be an exercise in getting him to fall in love with me. and when he did eventually profess his love for me. i would be over it and leave.

but neither of those things happened! i took care of myself. because that is what i am in the habit of doing these days!! yay! everything that has happened in the last few weeks has lead me to exactly where i am. making sane choices in the really tough times.

due, in large part, to being loved for exactly who i am. i know that there is someone out there who will let me cry on his shoulder. i know because i have "met" one of him. THE one? who knows. if i had my choice, yes. but that may not be god's plan for me. but i do have faith that if i keep taking care of myself like this, that i will be in a much better place. i will be able to love myself. and therefore able to love someone else.

last night i had peppermint tea. and i knew that i was loved.

it's happening, interweb! i swear it!

lest you be left with the thought that i don't love my family...

my grandmother was a queen. she was a strong willed woman with an opinion way before that was in vogue. she was a model, a secretary, a church founder, a wife, a mother, and a caretaker.

my grandfather (rest his soul) had 2 heart attacks in his forties. she nursed him back to health, moved her whole life to florida at an early age so that her husband could live out the rest of his 83 years.

once he had recovered, they traveled all over the country in a holiday rambler. my grandparents lived in florida but were present for every single christmas. we'd see them at the very least twice a year. they were the most kind, loving, giving people i've ever had the opportunity to know.

and right until the end she was a pisser. dispensing sex advice and shopping tips from her last hospital bed.


my dad, her son, is the smartest man i know. and i don't say that flippantly. a peabody graduate that can play nearly every instrument known to man. when he wanted to go to peabody, he found a scholarship. and when he wanted his true love, my mother, to go there too? well then he found her a scholarship as well.

he played stand up bass in jazz bands at clubs while my mom sat in the back and did his homework. eventually he gave up his dreams of becoming a professional musician so that he could start a family.

when my sister and i were young he was the housefather while my mom went back to school to get her masters degree. he drove me to the bus stop every morning and waited for the bus with me. all while becoming one of the most successful and well-loved insurance agents in maryland. he put both his children through private school and then college. he worked sometimes 80 hour work weeks and had the most loyal clients because they knew he was one of the only honest men in the business.

he was a provider in the true sense of the word. men these days could learn a thing or seven thousand from this man.

and women could learn a great deal from my mother. i always say that my mother is a saint. and god bless her she is. she keeps us all together. i have always known, every minute of every day, that i was loved by my mother. and she has been the rock that holds my dad together. keeps a clean nice house without being obsessed by it. doesn't care for decorating yet always managed to have a comfy home.

she has one of the most beautiful singing voices i have ever heard. she has perfect pitch. perfect fucking pitch, people!! tell her to sing an e flat in the second octave and she'll be right the fuck on unless the piano you're testing her with is out of tune. i shit you not.

she has been quietly spiritual her whole life. centered in god's love but not pushy about it. you'd never even know that her father was a presbyterian minister if you didn't ask her. she has that quiet calm air about her that is sometimes confused with shyness. she can comfort a sick child like no one else.

and then you have my sister. wow. let me start by telling you that she's been sending out christmas cards since she was 15. she's the most organized, neat person i have ever met. her handwriting is perfect. she has a way of taking care of things that is so matter of fact that the crisis is over before you can even blink. she is giving without wanting or needing the credit for it.

she married a widower with three kids. three fucking kids, people. two boys and a girl. she stepped in and raised those children as if they were her own, because, well, they are. i know their mother is looking down and thanking the god lord for finding her husband a woman like my sister. i can't think of any other 20 something better equipped or suited to do what she did.

even today, she gives of herself without pomp or circumstance. she sees things that need to be done and does them. she is a gift. and i can't begin to tell you how glad i am that she is back in my life.

cuz let me tell you, i can bullshit myself, i can bullshit my mom and my dad. but there's no bulhshitting the sister. she's that good.

guess which one's mine...

some observations

1. death makes me lonely

2. i underestimated my mommom right up until the day she chose to die.

3. not having a boyfriend to take to a funeral makes me feel like a failure.

4. saying i love you over and over to an ip address on the screen is not healthy.

5. dad deals with death by drinking and listening to cuban defectors playing hammond b3s at these-go-to-eleven volumes.

6. my sister is on a mission to uncover the facts by any means necessary. and if you can show her where your feelings are she has a bandaid for them.


7. mom lies about dad's availability on the phone like an old champ.

8. having the family together again was JUST LIKE OLD TIMES.

9. i will be staying with my friend jan in florida. my other choices were a hotel room with my sister, her husband, and 3 of her 4 kids or my grandmother's old condo with my mom and dad. thank god for jan.

10. the racontuers song together was written to me. and i am now living to learn and learning to live. the sunset will be ready in 2 years. (with a 6 month margin for error)

11. i got new socks and new slippers. the new socks are my dead grandmothers. apparently i have some weird sock issues.

city dog country farm

i forgot to say thank you for all your condolences... thank you. so much. you guys are fucking awesome.

ok i don't feel like doing this anymore.

we went to see my grandmother one last time in her recovering almost better room. we walked in and she tried to wave us off until she saw my sister.

i think she was trying to go. but then she saw my sister had come. and so she brought herself back to say goodbye. i didn't know that then.

her oxygen was very low 65 for you nurse types and so the doctor was called he ordered an ekg we're sitting in her room terrified i text my friend that my gma is dying.

they get her more oxygen the doctor comes. he immediately puts my sister in a time out. i love him. he takes control and says her heart is in atrial fibrilation like when the president puked on the ambassador to japan. he orders her back to ICU.

dad and i watch helplessly as the nurses on this not-so-special-care floor try to get her ready to move with two oxygen tanks and all the tubes. it is painful. they are not at the top of their game.

i text my friend that i'm sorry that i overeacted and that she wasn't going to die just now.

we wait in the ICU family waiting room while they get her set up. it seems like hours we're on the phone all the time bugging the nurse when can we come in. not yet. dad gets angry because he's scared. it's been an hour, ok maybe 45 minutes.

finally the nurse comes out. she is very calm. she apoligizes for keeping us waiting she wanted to stabilize her before we saw her. it is immediately clear that this woman knows what she is doing. my sister calls her an angel.

my parents go in for 10 minutes or so and then send us in. she looks calm. we say good night. my sister kisses her.

i say goodnight and am walking out the door. my grandmother calls my name.

"kiss me" she says.

i go over and kiss her on her forehead. we leave.

we go eat, we are relieved, feel she is in good hands. everyone calls the nurse an angel. we go home and everyone falls fast asleep. until the phone rings at 615am. mom can't get it fast enough, the machine clicks on, it's the doctor, he says she's taken a turn for the worse.

my mom calls the angel who tells us that she was just with her but now she's gone.

my dad weeps audibly in the upstairs bathroom.

well, now.

so.

hard to know where to start here.

so friday night i hung out with some very good friends. i slept very well and was underway by 800am saturday morning. 930 or so the father of the new baby called to tell me everyone was healthy ten fingers ten toes.

i think i kinda new then that my grandmother was going to die.

i got to my parents, we ate some fried chicken and then went to the hospital. we showed up at her room in "special care" and the bed was gone. my mom, dad and i walked the nervous walk to the nurse's station only to be told that she'd been moved upstairs to the more stabilized floor or whatever.
we sat in the "day room" while they got her set up. the "activities director" for the floor was in there getting ready for the afternoon's activities. she was going to be washing and setting hair that afternoon. she was very talkative and i wanted to kill her.

we finally got to see her. her breathing was laborious. to say the least. i have to say that i doubted that she was having that much trouble. she's always been a drama queen (takes one to know one) and so i just figured she was putting on a bit of a show for us. i know. i'm a bitch.

so we stay for a short bit. she writes on a piece of paper that she's seen the holy spirit and is at peace. she's ready to go.

dad says she looks better, mom says she looks better. we go home and wait for my sister to drive down from the airport.

sis arrives, dad gets back from seeding the lawn at his new house. he's trying to get the seed down before it freezes.

we all get in the car to go see the new house and then head to the hospital so that my sister can see mommom. the plan is that we will then go out to eat. this is big news, as my dad ALWAYS cooks. no matter what. the fact that he's agreeing to eat out twice in one day is a big deal.

in our travels before the hospital we have a little talk about mommom.

"she looks much better" - mom

"she sure does. way better than yesterday." - dad

"i think you two need to prepare yourself that she's going to hang on a lot longer than she wants to. she's ready to go but her body is not." - me, after apparently recieving my medical degree from tami and johnnies chicken shack.

oh, mocking bird, have you ever heard, words that i never heard

she's gone.

mommom left this earth at around 615 this morning.

my sponser had her baby boy yesterday at 731am.

one in. one out.

p.s. we are still carving pumpkins if i have anything to say about it. and yes, jimh i will post pictures.

werd on da streetz

is that this lady needs me to bring the funny.

oh it's already been brou'in...


you may or may not know that my grandmother recently fell and broke her hip. she's been feisty her whole life so when she responded to this last episode with sleeping and sighing, we'd taken to worrying about her.

i stopped in to see her last month on the way to my folks' house and she was just not trying very hard to be rehabilitated.

my folks had taken her back to her own place from the rehab place a week ago friday. then on tuesday my mom told me they were taking mommom to the hospital by ambulance because her "oxygen was low." so they found lots of scar tissue in her lungs. (my mommom has never smoked, but my pop smoked like a feind his whole life - insert second hand smoke rant here please signed kali the ex-smoker who lives in a glass house)

so just now when i saw my mom's cell phone number on the caller id here at work i got more than a little scared.

"hi it's mom!" she sounded in good spirits so i breathed a sigh of relief

"howzit goin?"

"oh, not too good. we're just on our way back from seeing mommom and it's like she's just given up." her voice starts to crack on the last two words and i realize how much she was working to hold it together on the greeting. "i was wondering if it was feasible for you to come down this weekend."

she's full on crying now.

and i don't know about you but when i hear my mom cry it breaks my mother fucking heart. (don't tell her that though please it would just make her feel bad about breaking down and that's the last thing she needs.) before i could say yes i hear some grumbling in the background. "your dad is mad at me for crying, but it i think it would just do him and me a lot of good if you could come down."

"yes. i will be there"

more grumbling. "dad says if you have plans..."

"nope no plans, i'll pack my dogs up in the morning and we'll be there."

"yeah, that'd be great. it might give her a little shot of hope to see you."

"great. i can't wait to see you and her. i love you mom."

"sorry for crying"

"mom, please don't say sorry for anything. i love you and i will be there in the morning."

so i lied about the plans. i was supposed to play b-more host to jay-v and melyni this weekend for flugtag. and i was looking forward to hanging out. but obviously i can't.

i don't know if you know, dear blog, how fucking huge this is. i have spent the last 10 years of my life being as far away from my family as i could get. so as not to have them notice just how unaccountable i am. i've missed knee surgeries, hip surgeries, back surgeries. i was not there for the time when my dad was bed ridden and my mom had to make his breakfast and lunch before she left for work. i was not there when she came home and had to change the bed pan. i didn't even call.

i have been on ALL accounts unaccountable for as long as i can remember. i was 10 minutes late to my sister's wedding. i missed the birth of my nephew. i was fucking emotionally unavailable at my poppop's funeral and could only be there for one day as i had to drive back down to the keys to finish the run of some fucking play.

it had gotten to the point where people in my family would just call me after shit happened as they knew there was no chance of me being available during.

in this past year so many amazing things have happened. 2 that really fucking drive some shit home though. one is that i am available. i show up for things, i've been to my folks house more in the past year than in the previous 10 years combined.

the second? well the second probably deserves a post of it's own. so be it.

so when my mommy asks me if i can come home this weekend? dude, you fucking bet.

(thanks god, for getting me out of me)

***UPDATE*** my sister is coming too!! talk about your perfect segue!
***UPDATE #2*** they're inducing my sponser tonight at 630pm!!!

OK GOD I GET THE PICTURE YOU CAN STOP NOW - heh.

FUCK

fucking fuck fuck fucker fucking fuck
FUYCHP#Q(&CP@BOP%#OIB&OH#$m9084t5p985890&*^$@*%$#

fuck.

i'm pushing the emo post away with the obligatory blogger SELF PORTRAITS!!!!

i am somewhere cool in parachute pants and a black sabbath tshirt!


i am in roswell in 1999 a full 5 years before those skinny bitches made sophia lauren sunglasses popular!!!


i am at the top of el yunque on my 25th fucking birthday! skinny skinny two tattoos!


i am driving the best bus ever cross country with my boyfriend!


the best bus ever celebrates christmas!!


that's my sister, my dad, and me! those freaking geese were HEAVY!!


i am shaking the deer's hand i do not know why!?!?!


we were on the road for a month and i apparently wore the same thing the whole time! except i bought that hat in arizona for $5!!


that's bill and me my ex is taking the picture we rode to san fransisco so that i could audition to be an mtv VJ nope they didn't hire me (i was surprized too!)

oh ya part 2 is up

go then, GO!

so

sunday.

i don't want to speak specifically to sunday.
i will tell you that
sunday i believe i heard my heart break
like a necco wafer.
snap

and that every piece of me wanted to
wall up
retreat
duck and cover

but that's the exact opposite of what i've learned
in the past few weeks

if you find someone
who understands you
completely
every time

like you don't have to finish
sentences
or qualify statements

you know the kind

someone who knew you before
you opened your mouth

someone who you can stand
in front of
nakid
intellectually
and emotionally

if it doesn't make any sense
and you've stopped trying
to put things
into context

don't fucking take that shit for granted.
don't be afraid to feel it.

and don't be sad
when it's gone

just be fucking glad you ever
had it.

cuz you are one lucky bitch.

and it if ever comes back around
be just as ready
to cut open your chest again
and bare all

or else you'll miss it.
and that'd be a shame.



what the fuck do i do with this gas now?

ACTING! ... GENIUS!

so ya, i'm alive.

fucking thing.
after the gas was siphoned we put new gas in and FUCKING NOTHING!

and it was 6:45 already and maria was coming at 7:10 to pick me up so i rush upstairs to take a shower to wash the gasoline smell off. unfortunately they don't make a brush that goes down your throat to scrub the gas off your pipes.

so 710 i say goodbye to sam after walking the dogs and maria picks me up and we head off to our meeting. the whole way there i'm burping gas and telling maria what happened and she's opening windows and doing the who farted wave. mind you there is no gas on my person, i've scrubbed and changed clothes and am just breathing gas at this point.

seriously, i'm a freaking gas pump. we get to the meeting a few minutes late so i squeeze in next to my friend dave and he automatically smells it. at this point i'm feeling faint, almost high. everytime i burp it's pure ethanol. fucking hot, right?

i get through the meeting without puking. no small feat, mind you. we hang out for a bit, everyone jokes about me having to change my clean date, ah ha ha, very funny i'm gonna puke all over you.

and then we're off to the party. first stop, though, i wanna get flowers for the host, seth. i like when girls give guys flowers. so we purchase a potted mum and head on our way.

i still feel high-ish and now i'm nervous because there will be people there that i don't know and i reek of gasoline and what do i do when i get nervous now that i'm not using????

that's right -- I ACT!!!

i'm on stage everybody look at the loud crazy girl!! crimony will this old behavior ever go away?

so i roll into the party into the backyard (it's a bonfire party - THE BEST KIND) and i'm all loud and obnoxious. i set the mum down he says thanks and i give some self deprocating crap about the cashier saying that she hopes the frost don't get 'em.

"i was like thanks, anti-salesman" huh huh... oh god i'm doing it i can feel it i won't shut up now i'm nervous there are people i don't know here.

"i swallowed like a fucking cup of gasoline today!" (up from a half a cup the last time i told the story which was up from the actual ounce or less that i'm sure to have ingested)

oohs ahhs from the crowd how'd you do that, what'd you do that for, yada yada.

i freaking hijack the party with tales of the day and by the time i'm done everyone knows i'm an obnoxious asshole with self esteem issues. so there.

in the quick moment of silence during which i'm taking a breath one guy speaks up, "hey did you call a motorcycle shop about a socket wrench today?"....

gas huffer

so we cleaned and replaced the plugs and...

nothing. a little sputter then nothing. lots and lots of starter fluid was sprayed and not. one. thing. ok i lie, there was some turning over of carbs it was very close brum brum. then nothing.

so. let's change the fuel.

after discovering that the boy offed with my gas can, (to be honest he DID buy it) sam takes me to the auto parts store again. (a different one because he thinks it's closer, which, really it might be.) as i'm standing in line with the gas can my friend brad calls. i hit "ignore." i'm worried that he's interested in more than friendship too. (is anyone else sensing a pattern?)

shit. wait. what'd i do that for? he has two motorcycles and manages a car garage. so i call him back.

"dude. this bike. i tried a new battery, nada. cleaned the plugs, nothing."

"so, it's the fuel."

"on it right now, boss. if that doesn't work i'm calling it a fucking day and i might need your help tomorrow."

"sounds good, let me know."

as we're on the way back to the bike, my friend maria (A GIRL!) calls. she's the one i'm going to the party with tonight. we decide she'll pick me up at 7:10 for a 7:30 meeting then off to the partay.

ok. now. let me tell you this one thing about my bike that you're just going to have to accept. there is no petcock. there is no OTHER WAY to drain the gas from the tank other than syphoning. accept this please. apparently no one else can.

so i cut my garden hose. heh. ya whatever, it was split anyway and a huge pain in the ass. so i fucking cut a piece of it to use as tube.

we ready the emptied laudry detergent bottles, stick one end of the hose in the tank and in my very matter-of-fact manner i begin to suck on the end of the hose.

no matter that i've never syphoned gas in my life. no matter that the hose isn't clear so i can't see when the gas is coming down the pike so to speak. no matter that i don't feel anything coming so i suck so hard that my cheeks become pits.

rush of gasoline (highest octaine, by the way) enters my mouth and before i know it, down my throat. i close off my throat as soon as i can (way too late) and spit out the full mouth of gasoline and choke on the rest that went down my pipes.

sputter sputter choke gasp retch sputter sputter retch.

i must've said "i'm gonna puke" 24 times.

no thanks, i got it.

so eventually i got sick of sitting there in the fucking car wanting to kill every runner that ran by saying "more cowbell."

i turned the car around and ended up at a grocery store. fuck it. i went in and did some grocery shopping and then zigzagged my way back to my house. unloaded the groceries and then drove to work to check the internet to make sure the world was still turning on it's axis. which, you'll be happy to hear, it was.

so i get all uplifted from the interweb and then head to pick up the motorcycle battery. on the way i call my sponser to tell her i really do have to talk to her to fill her in on some stuff so i'll stop by after i get the battery.

on the way to her house i see i have a voice mail message. it's my friend sam. an old skinhead buddy with whom i've recently been reaquainted. he wants to take the dogs to the park. it is a beautiful day. i call back.

"hey dude. i'm stopping by my friend's house and then i'm going to throw this battery on my bike to see if it works. it is not my experience that the first thing i buy for my motorcycle fixes it, but in the odd event that she starts right up with a new battery, i'll give you a call and we can take the dogs for a run."

i talk with my sponser for about an hour. i love her. i tell her everything that's been going on in my life. she doesn't judge. she's supportive. she loves me.

so i head home, hook the battery up and no dice. some cranking but no start. fuck. i douse the carbs with starter spray. turns once and then nothing. fuck. guess it's the plugs.

i call the motorcycle shop suggested by my friend seth.

"hey i have a question to ask but you can't laugh at me."

"uuh, ok..."

"what size socket wrench do i need for the plugs on my gsxr?"

"5/8's"

"awesome, thanks."

so off i head to the parts store to get a socket wrench. i call sam.

"hey. i'm headed to the parts store to get gumout and a socket wrench for the plugs."

"i have a socket wrench"

um, yeah. i'm not very good at accepting help from men anyway. but i have an inkling that sam is interested in me for more than friendship, so i turn down the help.

"no, it's ok, i need to get one anyway. i'll talk to you later."

when i get home from the auto parts store, i'm not too happy to see that i bought a socket wrench with a 1/2" drive on it. my breaker bar has a 1/4" drive. short version? i bought the wrong fucking socket.

after i fight off the urge to throw the wrong socket through my living room window, i call sam.

"ya, i bought a socket with a 1/2" drive."

"ok, gimme a few minutes to put some clothes on and i'll be right over."

it's now nearing 4pm.

broken

all in all a pretty good theme for this past unintentionally long weekend.

fucking broken.

let's start with saturday, because, while a pain in the fucking ass, it's a better story than sunday, october 15, which will now be refered to on this blog as "the day the music died." end of conversation regarding sunday.

so, saturday started out banaly enough. (is too a word i looked it up)

i slept in until 9:00am then called my sponser. we were supposed to get together.

"lemme get myself out of bed and get these dogs walked then i'll be over. 45 minutes, maybe."

so i do that stuff. i know i've said this before but my fucking boy dog is the best ever. he never wakes up in a bad mood. he's always anxious to greet the day and acts like he's in love with me all over again every stinking morning! he's the best.

(*sidenote, yesterday while i was sick in bed i asked the boydog if he would be my boyfriend. he seriously sighed and looked at winnie - the girl dog. as if to say, oh mom, you know i've already got a girlfriend. heh. he's the coolest and yes i'm a total loser)

so i get 'em walked and hop in the car to head to my girl's house. i hit some traffic which i assume is for the saturday farmer's market. i call to say i'm running later than i thought due to traffic.

"hey, looks like i'm hitting some traffic. i'll still be there, just a little later than i thought."

"that's fine, honey. can you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?"

so i get the smokes and i'm on my way again, when i start to see orange cones and lots more traffic. on my left i start to see some runners with numbers. aw shit, it's the fucking marathon. i inch my way up 33rd street for the next half hour. then i'm stopped completely for 30 minutes. no lie. 30 minutes.

so i sit and try to practice patience. i'm supposed to fix my motorcycle today, but other than that and a party later tonight i've got no where to be.

i call a couple of motorcycle shops while i'm sitting. first the one that my friend seth suggested. no dice. they're out of the battery that i need for my bike. another shop. $85.00. fuck that. $85 for a battery. and then another. $65. fuck it, i'll take it. i give them my credit card # over the phone and say i should be there by noon to pick it up.

i hang up the phone and wait. there's a marathon supporter on the other side of the road yelling suppport to the runners.

"way to go number 1165! keep smiling! woo hoo!"

and ringing a cowbell. and ringing and ringing and ringing.

i call my sponser.

"i'm 50 yards from where i called you last 45 minuts ago."

"aww honey, what's going on?"

"the fucking marathon. and do you hear that cowbell? i'm having fantasies of running over to that woman, tackling her to the ground with a strangle hold and shoving that fucking cowbell down her throat."

"oh man, that sucks."

since i quit smoking on january first i knew this next part would be understood.

"yeah, i'm sitting here totally pissed off and i have a pack of cigarettes staring me in the face. and they're MY BRAND!"

check it out

i'm like a buzz bomb

stripper mentality

Hey. You wrote this yesterday and I've not been able to stop thinking it over:

who the hell knows how i got this way. my daddy gave me plenty of attention when i was younger. he worked a ton and maybe my perception of it was askew? who the fuck knows, but the bottom line is that i was trying to fuck myself worthy. and we all now know where that got me.

With two girls it bothers me a lot. Because this is exactly the kind of behavior I don't want my girls to fall into. It especially bothers me because my older girl already appears to seek approval from other people for about everything. She just seems to naturally lack something that tells her she's OK regardless of what other people think. My other daughter ... natural born leader, alpha personality.

So, what I wonder is if your external influences could have played a big role in your self-esteem issues? You know, punk and the punk scene talks a lot about empowerment, but the reality of the lyrics and actions pretty much teaches folks that nobody is worth anything. I wonder ...

Not trying to offend or anything. Just being a concerned poppa and blog-friend.

- Cullen

dude. funny you should mention. and man i commend you on trying to be the best father you can be. seriously. that's huge.

last night i came to a huge epiphany about this shit. i mean like fucking breakdown and cry at the kitchen table stuff.

let's see if i can do it justice w/o taking up two screens:

i'm on the fourth step in the twelve step process. a part of the fourth step is listing resentments. people about whom i have reoccuring negative thoughts. it's a rough process because there are people that i don't think i should feel negatively about but i do. but the step makes it clear that real or imagined, we need to get this shit out.

so i have this list of people that when i think of, something in me rolls her eyes, or gets irritated or however you want to put it into words.

so i have this list. and it's mostly men. the step directs us to write the events proceeding the resentment. then it says go back and describe your motivation in these situations, or what you believed that led you to act this way.

over and over again it's this thing about not feeling loved because this or that man didn't love me. not feeling worthy of the love. not feeling loved the "right" way. so i'm going down this list. same shit, re-writing the same shit. and i get to my father's name.

and i break down and cry. it's the same shit. not feeling worthy of my dad's love. textbook low self esteem male approval seeking behavior. i hated it. i was telling someone just this morning that nothing frustrates me more that being the fat part of the bell curve. then i quoted a good friend of mine who always said "generalizations are called that because they are GENERALLY true."

so there it is. is it true? well, if you asked my father, he would say that he loves me unconditionally. no matter what that i'm still his daughter. my perception, however is not that way, it's different. that he would love me MORE, if only [fill in the blank.]

again. this may or may not have anything to do with reality. is there something my dad could do/could've done to make a difference? i dunno. because that's not what happened.

don't know if that helps or hurts, cullen, but that's my experience.

it's a good thought about the punk, but i feel i found the punk because of my feelings, not vice versa. ya know? like the feelings were there and then when i heard mike muir singing about 'em i was like -THERE! that's it! that's what i've been feeling....

you tell me

political blog?
funny blog?
more deep shit?
a mixture?

where do i go with this thing now?

i mean cuz there's more shit i could hash out here... about my addiction, my past. it would be nothing but helpful for me.

but i can also write "real time." like a moving forward type thing.

derno. you tell me.

full circle

so when i started this narrative i was attempting to answer three questions.

How exactly is it that you conducted yourself at the restaurant that was so dispicable?
Who did you cheat with?
How are YOU with the whole break up thing???????????????????????????

now that i've covered the first two in some detail. it's time i go about answering that third and final question.

hmmmmm. well, if you've read this you know how i WAS feeling about the whole break up thing. bad. really bad. the thing is, though, that it's not new behavior. i mean christ, i've been doing this since i was 14. looking to men for self worth and then sleeping with them and then being over it and dumping them. truly.

something is obviously wrong with the way i process this type of information. as has been suggested, i suffer from extremely low self esteem. that is not an excuse but a statement of fact.

who the hell knows how i got this way. my daddy gave me plenty of attention when i was younger. he worked a ton and maybe my perception of it was askew? who the fuck knows, but the bottom line is that i was trying to fuck myself worthy. and we all now know where that got me.

and when i'm not getting what i want or need from a relationship, instead of fixing it or giving it attention or god for fucking bid being honest about it, i go sleep with someone else.

so in answer to the boy's text message. yes. yes the cheating coincided with the mental breakdowns. but the mental breakdowns happened BEFORE the cheating. i'm so twisted that i thought sleeping with other people would fix me.

see? just like a drug.

and just like a drug, it's never worked. never long enough. never. not once. and yet i keep going back to it. insanity. in the truest sense.

for all of you who do not know, i tested negative to HIV and any other STD. so i text him saying "my blood tests came back negative."

that's the last communication we've had. and i suppose that makes it easier, no fuck that, i KNOW it makes things easier. because i know that we weren't meant to be together. not now. we were meant to go our seperate ways.

does that make it easier? oh hells no. i cried like i lost my best friend. for days. i haven't cried in a few days now, thank you. things are on an upswing. school is going well.

but i cannot forget what happened here. or else i will never learn from it. it takes effort to change. this i know.

remember when this blog used to be FUNNY?!?!

go here.

and for chrissake, COMMENT!

work pants

i asked him to sit down at the kitchen table with me.

it used to be our kitchen table. my best friend's friend gave it to us. we went to pick it up in his jeep. his cousin has our other kitchen table. he was going to paint it and give it to us as a christmas present.

"there's something i need to tell you and it's not pleasant so i'm just going to say it, ok?"

"ok."

i had written the line in my journal ten times. i'd practiced it in my head, i'd said it out loud.

"i had unprotected sex outside of our relationship and then i came back and had unprotected sex with you."

physically i tensed up to wait for the ensuing barrage. outside i remained calm. i stared into his eyes.

nothing.

"i got tested on thursday and i'll have the results in two weeks."

"you have reason to believe that you put me at risk?"

"well, i went to give blood and then wouldn't let me because i had had unprotected sex with an iv drug user in the last 12 months. i got home that night and it sunk i what i had done.”

“that’s when it sunk it?”

(brace yourself) “yes. i’m so sorry.”

“who is it?”

“i don’t think i have the right to put someone else’s shit out there.”

“but it’s an intravenous drug user?”

“yes.”

interminable pause. i sit with my hands folded. scared. ashamed. not wanting to soften the blow. feeling like i deserved whatever is coming next. he’s going to tell me that he knew. that he was right for telling me it was an inappropriate relationship. that he knew i was cheating. that i had lied to him once again. all of it. he was right. i was ready. yell away. tell me i’m a bitch and a slut and that i fucked you over.

“well i guess that’s it then, right?”

“i don’t know,” i say. right then i wanted to be with him worse than ever.

“yes. it’s over,” he says. “i haven’t really been into it these last couple of weeks, so it kind of gives me a way out. makes it easier.”

that sunk deeper than any name calling. a buckknife on valentine’s day to the heart.

i hand him the work clothes that i had washed from the last time he spent the night. tell him he can come get his last few things anytime. and he leaves without even looking back.

minutes later i get a text message:

“does the cheating coincide with your mental breakdowns?”

let's do this.

the next 2.5 days were the most intense in my recent memory.

i spent most of that time in prayer or consultation with someone else who was trying to practice spiritual principles in his/her life.

i have two sponsors. one moved to NY and i talk to her on a weekly basis at least. and one here in baltimore, who is actively taking me through the steps.

i spend most of these two and a half days either in prayer or on the phone with one of them. other times i was talking with other people in the program including one friend who i will always have a bond with because of this trial by fire.

"fuck i fucked up."

"ya. you fucked up, but it's not the end of the world,"

"yes it is."

"it's the end of the world? damn... seriously dude, i hate to say this but you'll go through worse in recovery."

"fuck. it's fucking hard. i just want to fucking cut and run."

"ya it's hard. fucking life is hard, dude. recovery is hard."

"then why the fuck do we do it?"

"i dunno, you tell me. why do we do it?"

...

"because it's harder the other way."


well. yes.

so i journal about what i'm going to say to the boy. we've had fights in the past but i don't want this to be like them. i don't want to defend my bad behavior. i want to tell him what i did and then shut up and be ready to take what he needs/deserves to say to me. so i pray for courage. humility. for the ability to shut the fuck up. for strength.

during these days it also occurs to me that i have a choice as well. i mean here i am thinking he's going to say screw you, you're a fucking slut like i always thought you were. but what if he doesn't? what if eventually he wants to try and work it out? what do i want? do i want to stay in this relationship?

so it comes to me that i just don't know. and that it's ok to not know. that in my limited experience that my favorite decisions are ones i've made with a calm rational mind. and that takes time.

so sunday morning i go to an early meeting and then call the boy. ask him to come over. tell him i need to talk with him about something.

"are you pregnant?" he asks over the phone.

"no. no, it's not that." something sick inside of me wishes that were it.

eventually he comes over. i greet him and we hug for the last time ever.

multi point perspective

ok so if you're keeping track (and even if you're not) it's thursday morning. last night i went to try and give blood and then spent time with my boyfriend, and then the world came crashing down around me.

oddly enough, it's thursday as i write this as well. only right now it's three weeks later. but don't let that confuse you, let's just get back to the story.

------------------------------------
the blood test was painless. well not really because i'm bruised. as i've stated before i have shitty veins. but somehow the fact that it hurts is oddly comforting. in this moment i almost understand cutters. i feel like i deserve the pain. and like it might take some of the emotional pain away.

i sit at my desk and wonder what to do. how to go on. whether any of the work i've done on myself is having any real effect.

i still have not prayed. i purposefully have not prayed. all i could do last night was think that i wasn't worth it that i should just fuck everything. the job, the school, the program. so very full of fear. and just hurting so badly. i'm so ashamed.

telling the boy that i knowingly put his life in danger will be the hardest thing i've ever done. and i'm not doing it for me. i could give a shit about me. i'm doing it so that he has all the information and can get tested. i do not want to hear what he's going to say to me.

i keep going back to the beating on myself. i put someone's life in danger. this is not a consequence of life, this is a consequence of me fucking up. fucking up so badly. and just like i've fucked up a million times. the same shit over and over. sex w/o a condom. the easiest preventable thing ever. and i just cannot do it. i've never been able to. can't look beyond the immediate. and then to go back with the boy. i just don't know.

i've been here before. my ex used to always wonder how i didn't value myself anymore than that. that was bad enough. but now it's gone beyond self loathing. it's like i'm carrying a loaded weapon and pointing it right at the boy.

feels like the same negligent behavior. and my biggest fear (right now) is that i won't overcome it. that i'll never not be the worthless slut who sleeps with people because she has no self esteem, no self worth and can't even ask them to wear a rubber. holy hell. i'm so so so afraid of talking to him. he may say all the stuff i'm saying and worse and understandably so. he'll be right. we weren't planning on seeing each other again until sunday...


and then i go to my email and i get one from the automated service saying my blog has comments. so i go to read them and i see one from my sister.

"I am soooo proud of you! First, you're back at school, next you're back at the gym, AND you're packing your lunch!! ..."


she left it at 7:15 this morning. which was while i was driving to get HIV tested. i guess i've got more people to think about than just me here.

and i guess it's time to start praying...

dirty

"hey lady whats up"

"dude. bad day"

phone rings. he's high. i can hear it. up this time, prolly a speedball, who knows but he's definitely up. talking about how he's staying in my neighborhood now, he met my neighbors he's staying with a friend things are good he got a bunch of his movies back yada yada yada. he stops to take a breath.

"what's a matter, you don't sound good," he says.

"i went to give blood today and they wouldn't let me."

"why not?"

"um cuz i had sex with an intravenous drug user in the last 12 months."

"fuck.... shit. what does that mean, should i get tested?"

"i don't know, should you?"

"i mean, do you think you're dirty?" he says...

heh. he doesn't get it. he's so high he doesn't get it. it takes 10 minutes for me to explain to him that the reason i'm worried is because i had sex with him without a condom. i tell him i've tested clean every six months for the last three years. i tell him i'm pretty sure i'm clean.

"i've had sex with four people in the last 2 years. i used a condom with one of those people. one was my exboyfriend. one is my current boyfriend. and one is you."

"ya i was kinda wondering why we didn't use a condom."

"yes. we should've."

"well i've been using all clean this time out. and i've been pretty careful about sex lately."

this i doubted, seeing as how we didn't use a condom. he tells me we'll get tested tomorrow and that everything's going to be okay. i tell him that i'm getting tested first thing in the morning and that i'll let him know my results as soon as i get them. i know addicts. i am one. we make lots of promises that we don't fulfill.

i get up the mext morning and am tested and at work by 8:15.

mindfuck

now that my best friend is in a locked ward i can sleep. it's no fucking wonder they use to lock drunks up in insane asylums. dt's look a whole lot like psychosis. it is no fucking fun when your friend asks you if you can hear those voices...

anywho, back to the story.
--------------------------------------------
i was sitting at my kitchen table realizing exactly what i'd done. and i literally start to freak out. i call little miss s. like i say. she knows everything. not in the she-has-all-the-answers way but in the she-has-all-the-facts way. she knows i've cheated. she knows who it was with. i've been honest with her all along, thank god.

and so begins operation meltdown. here's where i go:

what the fuck am i thinking? i held a loaded weapon to the boy's head. have i no decency? to not only cheat but to not use a condom and then come back and have sex with him? why would i cheat? i know why. because i'm the same fucking hooker that i've been since i was 14 fucking years old. doing the same shit.

only now i'm parading around like i've fucking changed. like because i've stopped drinking and doing drugs that i'm some fucking saint. that because i've gotten honest about my behaviors that somehow i've changed.

i ain't fucking changed shit. i'm still a fucking piece of shit slut that cheats on loving boyfriends for what? for fucking what? i've not changed a bit. all this talk about god being able to restore me to sanity. all this prayer, all this self searching, and where has it fucking gotten me? no where. i'm a sham. i'm the same piece of shit i always was.

i hang up on her.

i sit and think and blubber and cry and hate myself. i quit the quitting drugs. i think about suicide. i think about going to get drunk, about finding some pills about doing ANY FUCKING THING that will get me away from these feelings.

then i think about the boy. i have to tell him. i have to tell him to get tested. i have to get tested to let him know whether i'm dirty or not. what about the boy. the fucking boy. the boy who claimed i wanted to cheat that i was unfaithful and was right. the boy who loved me even when i told him i was lying to him about my using. the boy who stuck with me through some major shit. how can i do right by him now?

i call miss s back. i tell her i need to do right by the boy. i ask for her help in deciding how i do that. i want to call him right now and tell him. i have to tell him.

she talks me out of calling him right away. i calm down enough to think. only because i need to help the boy now. fuck me. i'm a piece of shit. fuck what is good for me. i just want to do right by him.

we decide i need to get tested first thing in the morning. first fucking thing. i remember that my work has an anonymous testing thing. and they open at 8 or 830 or something... so that's what i decide to do.

then the 20 year old texts me.

"hey lady. what's going on?"

this weekend

i found out what watching your best friend
do through delirium tremens is like.

i found out why sleep deprivation
is a form of torture

i got my blood test results thursday afternoon.
they are all negative.

like melyni says, they suggest that i'm tested every 6 months
for a couple of years.

i will blog more on this. it needs to be done. for me. for you.
right now i have to get caught up on school work.

if anyone out there is taking xanax recreationally. and you want to stop.
please. please. please. go to a detox.
withdrawal can be fatal.
i had no idea.