caved

Lesson learned: listen to psychologist. He's known me for 2 years and is a specialist in borderline personality disorder. He insisted the whole time that I should just go into detox right away because he knew I was out of control. It's frustrating though because on the outside I often look very much in control so I think I can handle things and my dad does the same mistake with me over and over again. He just wishes so much that I'm ok that he closes his eyes to the signs that maybe I'm spiralling. And of course I caved finally after so much effort trying not to, I went on a 4 day drinking binge and promptly felt depressed and slightly suicidal.

spiritually blinded

Sticking to one a day is now officially extremely difficult. I still can't stop smoking right after waking up and my bad old self keeps reappearing when I'm sober which is about half the day or more. And boy do I hate being my bad old self. There's an overwhelming amount of negativity inside me and it's easily triggered by just getting upset over anything. And it often snowballs into an episode of BPD-fueled dysphoria. No words can truly describe it but it's like I'm being painfully tortured by my own sick mind, like the dark and negative thoughts and feelings will never stop pouring out of me. I got triggered yesterday because the psych ward called me saying there will be a free bed for detox but like I've said here, I thought my therapist said I didn't need it and I got so conflicted inside, just trying to figure out if I should go or not and it was so upsetting being caught in between two choices. Plus the nurse basically just hung up on me when I said I wasn't sure I was going in so I got upset enough to get emotionally triggered which results in life feeling like hell. I tried my best to deal with it. Of course, the old plan of action came up automatically; I must relieve the unbearable pain so should I smoke up more? Drink again? Cut myself? Take alot of pills at once if it gets really bad? The compulsion to act on these ideas was so strong but I fought in my head, arguing that the drugs will only make everything worse, including the immense emotional pain. Cutting isn't good either but it's not that bad in the long term because I don't go very deep at all, so I did that. It helped for an hour or so. I also spent 4 hours singing my lungs out to my favorite songs and delaying any action to buy alcohol, called a good friend and called my psychologist for support. These little things (suggested coping skills) I did were helpful somewhat. I managed to not drink since I kept saying, just another hour without taking anything. And another and so on. But it was awful to get through and I still ended up hurting myself. I hate being in this very unstable state, not being sure if I'll make it to the end of the day ok.
Why do I suffer like this if Jesus has already beaten the devil and sin on the cross? I believe in it. I think the answer is that BPD means I'm spiritually very blinded. I can't truly see and experience God's love for me since I hate myself and my emotional instability easily takes over my perceptions and even my physical senses and any sort of stable foundation within, including my faith. Maybe I don't really have faith then. Isn't it supposed to be unshakeable? And it's not like I stop believing either, it's just that crazy turbulent emotions put me through the wringer big time and take over everything sometimes. So I just don't know. I don't know if anything's really worth it, if my effort counts for anything at all. What do you want from me Lord, what?? What's the point of all this... But what's the alternative? I know it doesn't look like much but I am doing my best to take care of myself since I know that's what God wants and I've just got to keep doing so, even if it doesn't look like it's enough. I guess that's got to be some sort of faith because I wouldn't keep trying to live right for my own sake that's for sure.

my comforter...?

Jesus be my Comforter. I don't know how that works but that is because of the silly limitations in my head and not because I don't believe you can comfort me. I'm not doing so good right now. They called and told me there will be a bed for detox next week for me but my individual therapist keeps saying I don't need it. Meanwhile my psychologist of 2 years says I do need it. I'm so stressed about deciding because I can't. I'm getting conflicting messages from outside and within since I know I will get more care there but at the same time will be treated as and surrounded by crazy people. They are nice people but very desperate and in bad shape (mentally) and I will get influenced by them again because I'm fragile too and going a little crazy myself. Please comfort me more than drugs and alcohol do. I'm so tempted right now to get some wine to blunt the fact that I won't have any weed left in 2 days since I told my source I'm not getting anymore. So tempted to try and erase the pain and stress or inflict more pain on myself to feel less. But I believe you can comfort more than any of these things can, put together. So what am I to do, wait patiently and delay the destructive actions I compulsively feel I need? While I burn up with pain inside? I just don't know. So all I can do is ask, please be my number one Comforter, hopefully sometime soon.

kindness from strangers

I'm surprised I haven't been freaking out about it but I'm starting to I think, since May is coming up. And I remembered what I was doing this time last year but I want to be thankful. I had overdosed on some random pills just trying to end the pain, mourning and insanity in my head. I ended up in the ER once again and the next day, when my family doctor was working and said hi but didn't pay me more attention, I yanked the IV out of my arm and got blood everywhere and ran. It was the anniversary of my mother's death so I decided to walk to the cemetery nearby to pray and with nothing but a bloody hospital gown and socks in the cold spring morning. Eventually a passerby decided to call police on me meanwhile an employee of the hospital on her way to work stopped and talked with me, made sure I was ok and gave me a cigarette. She wanted to drive me back to the ER but I still wanted to go to the cemetery so she waited with me till police came. That was very kind of her but I'm not sure I was able to voice that at the time. And then the two police officers who came were even more kind. They drove me to the cemetery, answered my questions about ticket quotas (yes they use them), picked me some flowers at the cemetery and then drove me back to the ER. Wow they were absolute gentlemen and didn't judge me as just another crazy person! So I want to thank them and the lady for showing me kindness when I needed it the most. I hope to do the same for someone else someday.

a proper comparison

It's going alright so far with just one a day. I just really look forward to the 4 times a day I have a couple tokes. Otherwise I'm cooking, doing a little gardening, hanging out with my bro and the occasional friends. But I figured I should do an official comparison of the pros and cons of smoking, now that I'm more aware of both than ever before. It's crazy all the contradictory things it does to me and I want to motivate myself more by keeping the cons in mind. Eventually it is just untenable to continue in addiction.
Let's start with the pros:
- relaxation, muscles relax, calming
- dopamine rush, euphoria, happy feelings, temporary energy
- fun visual distortions, closed-eye visuals, music from nowhere and tripping
- stimulated creative thinking
- heightened perception of visual details, makes everything look magical
- opens up spiritual planes of existence
- distracts me from problems, personal issues
- prevents BPD driven episodes of self-destructiveness temporarily

Cons:
- exacerbates emotional issues stemming from my Borderline Personality Disorder: I become more emotionally unstable and paranoid of others.
- aggravates my asthma, I'm also allergic to smoke
- takes over and replaces most other pleasurable activities in my life
- sucks up my creative passions (don't play instruments or do artwork)
- withdrawal symptoms: agitated, insomnia, even more emotionally sensitive than usual
- hides issues and problems from myself, can't be aware of everything or work on self-improvement
- upsets chemical balances in my brain
- costs money, takes effort to roll and smoke undetected several times a day
- possible DUIs/accidents/problems with law
- lower motivation, less energy and ability to focus
- eventually leads to more mental instability and BPD episodes of self-destructiveness: emotional boomerang effect where negative feelings/thoughts I try to avoid come back with a vengeance.
- interferes with prescribed meds
- influences me to want to take other drugs eventually
- slowly keep wanting and smoking more and more, exacerbating all the cons

Happy Resurrection Day!

Mentioning the word Easter only makes me think of silly white bunnies and chocolate eggs. How ridiculously trivial compared to the amazing event of the Son of God dying and coming back to life to save me and all humanity from sin and death! Truly, our faith as Christians is founded on Resurrection Day because that's when Jesus rose victorious over all evil. But of course, this is the ultimate reality of the universe and not what we experience everyday and that's what trips me up like crazy. My pastor mentioned this in his sermon yesterday when he said that if you don't see Jesus' victory then you won't have the confidence, joy and assurance that comes with knowing God's love. Instead we tend to focus on the grave, on what seems impossible, on all the negativity in the world. I definitely do that but I just can't help it, I don't know if my BPD makes it harder to have faith in something I can't physically sense directly and am more sensitive to our fallen state. Thus I am thankful for at least this time of the year to focus on something I have trouble believing is the true reality. After all the apostle Paul said "I want to know Jesus and the power of the Resurrection!" So I should identify with the cross everyday and remind myself that the Resurrection guarantees my own resurrection one day.
My pastor made the very astute observation that before they saw and believed that Jesus resurrected, the disciples had shaky faith and were sometimes downright idiotic. But later they changed the whole world because their perspective was completely transformed. After knowing Jesus came back to life and beating sin and the devil, they counted on miracles as regular occurrences with the Holy Spirit and every Christian can do this too, even today. There are miracles happening everyday all over the world but we close our eyes to them since we don't even believe they're possible. I know now that my disorder shuts my eyes and keeps me drawn to the evil and suffering so I have to try doubly hard to keep meditating and focusing on the true reality of Jesus' victory and that he suffered out of pure love for me. Unfortunately no one can love perfectly as I intensely crave from those around me but Jesus the Creator Incarnate does.

one a day

Starting today I have decided on a concession between the two approaches to quitting: slowly reducing and going cold turkey. I am sticking to one joint a day and I'm going to break it up into just a couple tokes at a time. Then tell them how it went in 3 days. So far it's already a bit up and down. I still get stoned but it doesn't last as long, so when my head is a bit more clear sometimes distressing thoughts or memories pop in. But so far it's sufficient for me to use the trick of seeing them as objects flowing in a river; they will pass so there's no need to hold on to them and freak out. I have to just let the negativity and cravings for alcohol and cocaine pass. I can't believe my brain is so hooked it just keeps craving other drugs while I try to quit another. That's a pretty big sign of being an addict. I guess it's about endurance now and keeping busy.
Also, I think a part of me agreed to this because the people at the center said I should go into detox at the psych ward but now they say the opposite and that I'm scared for nothing, it won't be as bad as before. Well I guess we'll see who's right then. Might as well start cutting down and if I start losing it or having episodes, then they can see for themselves what I've been afraid of since I'll be there everyday. It's like I need to prove how unwell I am. Which is stupid but I can't help but worry that it's all just in my head. Maybe I just think I'm unwell, I can't tell and it's frustrating. I'm further confused by my psychologist saying that personality disorders are not mental illnesses. So what the heck am I suffering from? I understand it's not entirely biologically based but it is partly. So what do you call them then?
And then I worry that I got addicted on purpose so that I have something to identify with and places where I can belong as someone who needs help with substance abuse because as someone suffering from BPD, there is nowhere or any group I can belong to and get help except for one DBT group that only starts once a year. It just makes me feel like such an outcast, like I crave attention for nothing and don't have any real problems. This thought is so distressing it makes me want to use more but instead I'll show them what happens to me without more drugs even if it means I become more self-destructive. Even in group in the day program others can't relate to my BPD problems. My issues honestly make me as if I'm on drugs or suffering withdrawal even when I'm not but for the others, they get better after just a little clean time. Lucky bastards, if only through a selfish point of view.

now in the day program

I recently started in the day program at this treatment center which means I go there everyday for 5 hours. It's all group stuff and different speakers/therapists and subjects. Some of it is boring but some of it is interesting too. Like all the information on how drugs affect your brain and how others are doing and their experiences. But I am getting discouraged. I think I'm the only one still using in the group since most of the others went into detox too and I'm having a really hard time stopping. I'm just too scared, like I'll fall into the depths of hell if I stop. Others have said that alcohol grosses them out now, they got so sick of it but I don't feel that at all. I still miss the buzz and warm feelings you get from it at first. And obviously it's the same with weed. The others sympathized though, nearly everyone said they got addicted to weed too and found it hard to stop or would just switch to other drugs. My individual therapist suggested I stop by reducing slowly but my psychologist says I should stop cold turkey at the hospital since it's easy to smoke more if stressed. I think he's right but at the same time I do not want to be in a psych ward again. But I'm so scared to just stop by myself. I hate being conflicted.
Oh by the way, happy 4/20 day. It's dark, quiet and rainy and Frank is cozily curled up sleeping in my bed. It's a perfect day to smoke all day.
Arg.

empathy turned inwards

I read recently in a study that people with BPD are extremely good at telling what people's emotional states are by just looking at their eyes. This made sense to me because I always felt I could tell pretty well myself and because it is like a survival mechanism. During childhood I had to figure out some way of knowing when someone might blow up because that could ruin my whole world for the day. It's funny though because at the same time we suck at interpreting certain social cues, espcially when we're stressed. There was a sample of the test they used where you see a photo of someone's eyes and you have to guess what emotional state they're in. It was multiple choice but I decided not to look at the options to make it harder. It was a funny sensation when I took a good look at the photo of the eyes. Their dark pupils seemed to swallow me up for a second and then I could feel the emotion I saw: panic. So I looked at the answer and it was indeed panic. So that was neat. Then I checked out some of the comments and one person pointed out, if you look at another person with BPD you see emptiness in their eyes. I thought about this and realized it is true. I see it in my reflection and I remember seeing it in others' eyes who also had BPD. I think it's because we have no consistent sense of self and instead feels like there's a black hole inside, constantly threatening to destroy everything.

Is extreme fashionable? really?

Ever since I was 12 I noticed I tended to like things on the extreme side of things, like dressing punk, then goth, wanting tattoos, acting out in class (when I wasn't as quiet as a mouse), generally feeling alienated and like a rebel. And ever since, I've noticed pop culture glorifying it all and becoming more and more extreme itself. I guess it started a while ago in Hollywood but where's it all headed? We get so caught up in the rebel ideal in our naive teens and then as a young adult... Doesn't it make it harder to mature and take on more responsibility? Well, I guess most people turn out fine either way but what about us vulnerable ones? I wasn't extreme just to be cool, it was more the suffering from BPD developing but I wonder now for the ones who did. I'm sure they've all had to pay for their anti-social behaviour while trying to be accepted and some probably fell into addiction that way, or pick up bad life-long habits like smoking or unwanted tattoos etc... All to be cool for a while. Though I guess in a way it's a phase that's necessary to form your own identity but I think I'm a bit stuck in it. Try as hard as I might, I just can't seem to see myself as anything coherent or consistent. My pastor likes to remind me that Christ gives me my identity since I'm Christian and I do believe this, but I can't see or feel or experience it much. The only explanation is my BPD is impeding me. Otherwise, nothing is stopping me from fully living a Christ-filled life since I already believe and understand the concept of being a child of God, being loved as God loved His only Son.
Meanwhile it grates on my nerves, this rebel pop culture, when I see it around me. Like my good girl friends having bad-ass boyfriends (but with jerk tendencies since they've almost all got big issues). Very few are just nice guys. One can't stop drinking if he's at a bar or club where he feels it's a competition of who can drink the most and then breaks up with my friend twice and doesn't remember it, another is verbally abusive and probably has BPD himself, another loves to put everyone down around him since he's so insecure, one has a problem with the drink too and used to be a skinhead etc... And of course there's my last ex, who's a criminally insane addict (no exaggerating, we met in the psych ward and he transfered from a jail for the mentally ill) who has recently relapsed and is back to stealing and dealing. Is it just guys have more issues generally than women? Or that women are influenced by the rebel pop culture and want a badass for themselves? Or both? Or, humans are just all conflicted individuals? My friend with the over-competitive macaq of a boyfriend told me recently that out of our mutual college friends, I'm the coolest and I would be the least embarrasing to introduce to her other friends. That's nice and all but I think she's seeing through the pop culture lens that I am like the rebel, breaking rules seemingly out of cool self-posession. But really I'm in panicked desperation most of the time, too stressed to always pay attention to rules. There isn't really much that's cool about me underneath. I'm addicted, not in school or work and struggling with myself everyday. How is that cool or good in any way? And so as all Hollywood concepts do, the 'cool' me goes up in smoke in front of the complex truth. And no my naive 12 year old self, it's not cool to be self-involved and careless, alienated and full of angst. And so it shouldn't be cool to look it either. Of course, this does not mean I should or will give up my affinity for dark fashion styles any time soon.

like a deal with the devil

So I might not be the first to notice but doing psychoactive drugs on a regular basis is like making a deal with the devil. I don't even see at first how desperate a move it is, to basically say "I'll pay anything to feel better, for any bit of relief from myself." And how easy it is when you only have to pay more later. At first it looks like you only pay with your money but then you have to pay more later with your health, sanity and spiritual life. Then it claws back the benefits it used to give you so that you're forced to use only to function and eventually it can take everything, running you into the grave. And I can see all of this now happening in my life. I used to think that eventually the weed just doesn't seem to work as well without a break but actually it's because its negative side effects are getting worse as I continue to abuse it. So I'm getting more paranoid and more and more anxiety which cut through the comfortable haze of the high I get and it's getting heavier to endure. Every time I talk with someone I'm not sure if they're judging me, condemning me with every word that comes out of their mouths or not. I'm constantly on the lookout for invalidating statements that prove to me the speaker doesn't care or believe I suffer. It makes me more stressed and likely to yell and get upset. Also feeling scared of being watched by people on the street, like they can see my misery and problems. I really have to stop soon before I go off the deep end. No wonder my ex would take 2 week breaks from all drugs every once in a while and then go right back to stealing beer and smoking up and then break again. And you know, that's probably why I would feel better after being in a hospital for a week or 2 even though I would have awful episodes in the ER. Couldn't get drugs there, except for the time I got my friend who recently passed away to smuggle in a joint that I smoked in a bathroom in the psych ward and nearly got caught. I could never figure it out until now. I can't believe how much worse I made my situation by self-medicating. All that time I thought my cycling through being ok to being in the ER was only due to my BPD but my addiction was interfering and making things worse than they had to be.

grandparents

My grandma (from my dad's side) called me recently. She's so sweet and sounds lonely and always says so sadly how much she and grandpa miss me and my family and how she wishes she could come visit but she's too frail. We'll come visit in the summer. And I always say "miss you too" but to be honest, I don't think I do. Which then makes me feel guilty. It looks like I'm one of two ways, either I'm so self-centred that I don't even care about those not immediately having to do with me which is awful or I'm so sensitive to emotional pain that I'd rather cut people out of my mind if I can't see them regularly because I miss them too much. I think this might be an example of my black-or-white thinking, an annoying symptom of BPD. But that's really how I look like to me. Anyhow, all of this adds up to feeling woozy and weird every time extended family call me and say they miss me. I feel bad for not returning the feeling and yet I know there's fear behind the tunnel vision I enforce on myself. Makes me feel like I want to be left alone but of course I don't like being lonely...

the thrill

As I sat down to write this I started tripping pretty hard. Seeing my point of view distort alot and my imagination became alot more powerful too. Pretty patterns and colours from nowhere. Now I feel light as a feather and my head feels more separate than usual from my body. Everything's still undulating a little and tilting like I'm out at sea. My psychologist was so right yet again. The thrill is like an adrenaline rush from the danger or lack of control, like someone who enjoys bungee-jumping. Geez, how obvious do my self-destructive ways have to be? I guess it's also like amusement park rides. It's fun to be thrown around a little and get a bit scared because there's no control as a rider. I guess a part of me doesn't want to care anymore, I am getting tired. Because you can't ride over and over again, 24/7 without paying a price. I move through this vicious cycle pretty fast darn it.

sugary potatoes

I think it might be the combination of the Risperdal with the joints but I've been getting clumsy these days. I still cook quite well, especially since my brother and dad say so. But I think I've gotten messier. I got red pepper powder everywhere at one point and then got way too much brown sugar in the korean style potatoes. I had to add more of everything else but it was still very sweet. It's also hard to be sure of how much I should put in but I just have to force myself not to second guess myself and it always turns out ok. I'm also definitely getting a zombie effect from the Risperdal prescribed to help me. And I hate that. Makes me blank out more, makes me feel more slow and less enthusiastic about things. It's kind of depressing but I guess I'm supposed to give it more of a chance for now.

applause?!

I was forced to explain to my bro that it's hard for me to really feel any passion or pull from the Lord. It's hard to hear His voice when your stoned all the time and it's one of the worst side-effects of smoking up all the time. Although occasionally it makes it easier to talk to God because it makes spiritual things more real but only sometimes. It also mixes in my own distorted thinking and perceptions and paranoia which makes reality confusing too. Anyways, these are some of the reasons why I want to stop. Why else am I going to put myself in a wretched, locked psychiatric ward again (sometime in May)? At this statement he applauded me. This put me in further distress, why are you applauding me? What did you think I was up to this whole time? And my eyes started to tear up. He probably thought I just didn't give a crap and was just having fun at everyone's expense. These are the stupid little things that bother me.

12 hours

I did the stupidest and smartest thing the other day. I actually forgot my joints on the front porch and went out all day quite far away. It took me 2 hours to realize they weren't on me and panicked. I considered canceling everything and just going home but I decided to stick it out and see how long I could go. I went to the creative arts small group and chatted, ate, made cookies, played with the baby and then supper and had a cigarette. And pleaded for a beer in the fridge but didn't get it of course. ("I don't want to be an enabler") The activities were great distractions but it was still hard for me. I felt so out of it, shaky, anxious and uncomfortable in my skin and looking in the mirror sober was a little scary. My face kept looking like it was distorting a bit. And then the more depressing thoughts and outlook set in more. I feel jealous of the baby's so far happy, tended-to childhood. And then feel stupid for feeling that. And tired. Tired of feeling. And so I lasted about 12 hours clean and then went home. It wasn't as bad as it could have been but it's clear I need in-patient detox afterall. I'll be going in sometime in May. Probably the earlier the better.
One little thing to celebrate: one week no drinking. I hope it lasts at least a year.

self-centred, for now

I find self-centred people irritating. Unfortunately that is how I am right now myself. I used to beat myself up for this, feeling like an immature teen or something and hating myself even more. But I've realized that it's actually appropriate for me to focus on myself now. I've spent 22 years ignoring, repressing and denying myself in an effort to survive everyday life so now I've got to focus on taking care of myself properly if I'm going to get any better from my disorder and addiction. Must give self more slack...

out of the bag

I admit I was getting careless, kind of wondering just how far I could go without my dad noticing anything or smelling anything so he found out the other day about my relapse. I talked fast, summarizing my struggles and what's been happening so I think he got the picture. He didn't blow up but told me to get over my mom already it's been many years now and to not do anything that would push him over the edge because he's at his limit and can't help me anymore. I'm not sure what that last part means but anyways that just made me feel even more pressure to feel ok which was very anxiety-inducing. Overall it went over ok I guess. I was expecting it to be worse but it sure was unpleasant.

oh yeah, not kicked out

After what happened with the two parties I thought for sure I would get kicked out or something similar with threats etc at the group but it actually turned out to be the best session I've had with them. Maybe because I was expecting some sort of disastrous confrontation. But anyway, the therapist basically said I'm having a hard time but am trying so that's good enough and I should consider in-patient detox soon. I suppose it could be the best of two worlds in there, or it could just be hell. One thing's for sure: I can see how I really try people's patience and understanding since my self-control sucks. Thankfully it looks like they have enough for me for now.

to the moon and back

Do you remember which album was the first you got really obsessed over and absolutely loved? I'm pretty sure mine was Savage Garden, their first album. I must have been around 11 and I was so captivated I listened to it so much I still remember alot of the lyrics today. I recently listened to it again and still loved my favorites but am not as enamoured anymore of the entire album. It's just not the kind of music I listen to much anymore. But I noticed the lyrics of To the Moon and Back seemed ridiculously poignant. I remember my 11 year old self reading them for the first time and thinking, wow the woman he's singing about sounds like a really sad, pitiful person. I'm glad I don't feel like her and that I do have love around me. Or so I desperately thought. Listening again, I realize I'm extremely similar to the woman. Certain treatment by my mom and emotionally distant dad unfortunately have traumatized me. And I most certainly spent alot of my youth just waiting for the right pilot to come, the prince who would save me with his love and company and take me to the moon and back. Now, after spending 5 years with boyfriends I thought were perfect (but of course weren't) I realize they're not the answer. Then, not able to live with myself, I turned to drugs. Now I know they're not the answer either. Maryjane makes an amazing lover and it's so hard to break it off but at the risk of sounding cheezy, I guess Christ is the only one fit to be my pilot. But the lack of physical presence makes it so hard for me to not believe I'm all alone when without people and drugs. I was just so lonely. And still am, somehow. I've been hurt alot but repressed it all for so long. I still don't like to remember or acknowledge. Ah, this is another crack in the numbing dope wall. It's like spying a glance of something nauseatingly disgusting on the other side but it's reality. No wonder I don't want to be sober! There's only so much a person can take.

To The Moon And Back

She's taking her time making up the reasons
To justify all the hurt inside
Guess she knows from the smile and the look in their eyes
Everyone's got a theory about the bitter one
They're saying, "Mamma never loved her much"
And, "Daddy never keeps in touch
That's why she shies away from
human affection"
But somewhere in a private place
She packs her bags for outer space
And now she's waiting for the right kind of pilot to come
And she'll say to him
She's saying

[chorus:]
I would fly to the moon & back if
you'll be...
If you'll be my baby
Got a ticket for a world where we
belong
So would you be my baby?

She can't remember a time when she felt needed
If love was red then she was colour blind
All her friends they've been tried for treason
And crimes that were never defined
She's saying, "Love is like a barren place,
And reaching out for human faith is
Is like a journey I just don't have a map for"
So baby's gonna take a dive and
Push the shift to overdrive
Send a signal that she's hanging
All her hopes on the stars
What a pleasant dream
Just saying

cracking logic

For the first time in a while, I feel some relief after seeing my psychologist today. At first it looked like it was gonna go the other way again, starting to feel like my problems are just because I function emotionally like a 2 year old and don't do what I'm told. But then I let out a long rant and he said he heard me better this session. And so I feel relief, like finally someone listened to me. Generally I'm against ranting, it's usually excessive, emotional and not always very logical but it's still a genuine type of self-expression and I was desperate to be heard properly. I didn't relapse just for kicks but for survival. I'd rather get high than be miserable by myself in an ER, possibly losing my mind and hurting myself just to feel one iota better. I'm managing the everyday for now but I'm starting to get tired out and the smoking's efficacy is starting to crack so I need more even as I'm trying to cut down in the program. Thus the best I can do for now is to just contain the amount I use everyday even though the goal is to cut it out completely. And even that is getting hard. I just don't have very many good options or solutions for myself and it's frustrating. I really thought in rehab I would give it up for good, even though the thought was painful. Also, even in rehab where there's constant help from good staff, they still had to send me to a hospital overnight because I was too self-destructive. Anyhow I pray that God would guide me through all of this ultimately. I know He wants me to get better and that's enough for me to keep trying.

cracks

Ah, the quiet domestic life. Spending most of the time cooking, buying groceries, playing with the cat (Frank), going to church and therapy meetings, seeing friends once in a while... and most often stoned. Honestly not sure how my cooking is actually tasting better, given I can't always remember what I cooked. I can't believe how hard it is to quit the smoking and even the drink is oddly sticky but I haven't drank anything so far this week at least. Which is awesome because it makes it ridiculously hard to drive, especially mixed with other things. But I did go to two parties in one week and both were not good ideas. At one I lost track how many drinks I had and woke up feeling like I was having withdrawal and at the other I only had one drink but also speed and special k. How does that happen when I'm in a drug treatment program? Well, I'm the biggest hypocrite I know, to the point of feeling like different people in my head sometimes. But really, it was; ok it's my friend's birthday I should go and just keep the drinking to nil and everything will be fine. I get there and right away, hmm, these are mostly her husband's friends, not hers, not good. Oh he's got k, I'm so curious what it's like. Wow, thanks for free too? Yeah a little is good, don't want to be in a k-hole. Wooaoow. Oh you have speed too. Could be a good perk-me-up after the sedative effects. Wooo. Now I need to smoke up more to take the edge off. And so on it goes. It's like a chain reaction that's hard to stop until you start feeling unwell from it all. I ended up staring at the table for alot of the night because I felt too woozy to look anywhere else. And of course I did not enjoy the comedown the next day which made me smoke more too. What a study in stupidity. And perhaps desperation. And so, this and other signs are revealing cracks in my artificially peaceful existence. I've got to get more intensive treatment (unfortunately I mean hospital detox) soon-ish. But then I have to deal with May too. It never seems to end. And then I have my bro telling me I haven't accepted what Jesus has done for me yet. It is finished, already. But haven't I already accepted that before? How do you accept something anyways? I'm confused, and yes it's my fault.