Oops. I did it again.

That's right folks. A little two night and two day relapse. How did I let this happen? After a long bout of depression, my usual pattern is to cut, overdose or use IV cocaine. After trying to seek help for my depression, and being humiliated and scorned by our medical system, I caved.
After the guilt, shame and crawling out of my cess pool of yuck, the Ministry for Children and families showed up at my door. Sweet. I already had a sponsor and was trying to climb up and out and never use again (or just for today), an ex friend who was a long term close friend of twenty something years, decided to take it upon herself to threaten my little family's security. By the way peeps, my son was well taken care of and certainly not abandoned by my decision. Kharma is something I firmly believe in.
I am sad today. My daughter is on my mind. She has been living with a gang member since May 22, 2011 and I fear for her life. She is so beautiful and tiny and is with this disgusting walrus who has gotten her in way over her head and although we are in the same city, he forbids her to see me or her little brother.
I am going to write on here more often, get the shit out of my head. My life certainly never lacks a story.
Love to all,
Melissa

BAHHHHH!

I have a great kid here with me and why is that not enough for me to not feel like a complete failure and that maybe death would be a relief? I  just get really tired, you know? I I I mememememe. Yes I guess you could say that I am thinking mainly of my one self these days.
Money is not important-my ass!!!!! When the bill collectors have had enough of waiting for me to pay up- money is everything. I live in fear. How is this any different than me being in my addiction? At least then there were escapes and it seemed easier just knowing that I was a piece of shit that couldn't' get her life together. I was so busy hiding ducking recovering getting high mending fences that I didn't expect any better. Now I am trying to live right , pay my debts and be ok, just ok. One road block after another and it seems that I am going backwards. This depression has no release. Just grey dark grey and black. God bless prozac because I get a glimpse of pink for a moment or two while reality is not registering in my medicated brain.
I did not intend to be such a negative blogger. I think this drives people away and this is evident in my life. No one wants to hear a whiner. Really. I fucking hate being one; hate this out of control feeling that my life is being controlled by my back injury and my past mistakes dictating my future. Worst of all is that feeling that I just have never been able to shake. Fundamentally flawed. Grandiosity? Maybe but I feel that way.
All I can say is I haven't put a needle in my arm. I haven't picked up a drink.  So that's good. BAHHH. "This too shall pass" they say. Up or down say I.

Relapse Mode?

Whilst in a certain recently attended treatment centre, and through certain meetings people who are chemically challenged attend, the signs of an impending relapse have been drilled into my brain. These signs consist of complacency, not practising sprituality, not attending meetings, isolation, not having a sponsor, I could go on but I won't. The point is that I am guilty of all of the above. It is no small wonder that thoughts of using are becoming more frequent. Self pity and fear have snuck in as well. Scary angry woman? Can' t pin it all on PMS!
I guess I have noticed this going on and I know I have to do something about it, but my attempts to make an effort are feeble. I' ll attend a meeting and feel like shit because I become aware of all the things that I am NOT doing, and I won't attend for another week or two or three. I will do some reading and some meditation, and forget the next day and the next. Or my emotions will get the better of me and I will conveniently forget that I have a God and just swim around in my fear and my anger and my sense of hopelessness. Sometimes I think its easy to not use my drug of choice, but if I really think about it, I am one bad choice away from the depths of a living hell.
I should think that my gratitude for a clean life today would prompt me to pull out all the stops to stay clean. I do believe that it is a miracle that I am here today. I can not let myself forget that.

Right Where I am Supposed to Be

Lately it has been very apparent that I have definitely missed out on a lot in life. During the years that I should have been in college, dating, getting ahead in life, nurturing my kids, I was using. And using. Intermittent periods of personal growth otherwise known as "rehab"were almost just a form of harm reduction. HA.
Sometimes I feel like I am a fool to think I am doing ok. Really when I look at other people who seem to have it together....I fall soooo short. We've only got one life, right? Is mine really half over? I pissed on the first half and now it just seems like a really long clean-up. A really long clean-up.
I made my bed and I am a believer in cleaning up my own mess, but damn I feel so stuck. The circumstances I have created are suffocating me and it will be a long time before I am free.
I used to use over this kind of thing. The yucky past would be right there biting me in the ass and I would exercise my big ol "fuck-it" muscle and get high. The stakes are so high if I were to use again. I am not willing to go there. I can't say I haven't thought about it. I did today actually, my roommate left town. Immediately after the thought I saw my son's beautiful face, and I am not willing to lose that precious little guy. And tonight - be damned if there wasn't a message from my daughter saying hi and she loves me. Pretty awesome that through the years of being an ongoing disappointment, there are two angels on my side. I'm a very lucky girl indeed. While I am catching up on the game of life I guess I can be ok because I did something very right.

Veins

Ha! Veins. Yes veins. Lately I have had a couple of glimpses of some stellar veins . Yes. Big blue veins. How ridiculous that this can stir up the excitement of using. I try not to stare, and I push the thoughts out of my head, but today I found myself looking for some viable veins on my own arms. Excitement of using? Is that what I just said?

Today I drove by the ravine that a year and some ago I was at the bottom of, under a log, in a puddle, shooting up. This memory makes me feel sick. I was running from people who weren't there, police that were not chasing me , I just wanted to fix and not "be seen". I was always scared my drug would be taken away. It was intense fear that sent me tumbling through the thick brush to the bottom of that ravine. Yes there was someone in the forest, but it was not the five-0, it was a raccoon and later some deer.

Moments like the above are all I need to think back on when I think I am excited about veins. There is still a slimey sneaky person in my head who my friend likes to call "Dumbfuck".( or df for short) If I can counter df with some yucky memories each time df gets the urge to glamorize using, all will be well.

Beginning of Expressing the Garbage that haunts me

These days life seems pretty good. And yet there are times where the memories that I try so hard to forget come flooding back like some sort of yuck spewing forth from a dark place. I am brought back to my knees with my nightmares, when I look at past photos, when I realize the irreparable damage I have caused myself and my family. Yes life gets better when one cleans up, but the memory of all the horrors that go along with addiction are still there.
Twenty year reunion held recently in my home town. I could not go. "So Melissa what have you been doing the last twenty years?"
"Well Dan, I have been a heavy IV cocaine addict fighting for my life and recovery. Many failed attempts and at age 38 I have finally strung together a year without sticking a needle in my arm. How is the law practise coming along?"
One instant can take me back instantly to feeling like a giant crazed piece of shit. Like when I look at pictures of the crucial teenage years of my daughter's life that she endured while I was fucked up. I really did try to juggle all the balls of being a single mother,a full time health care worker, and a good friend. I can see how selfish I was. When life got shitty for me I allowed myself to think I was special enough to check right out of the responsibilities of life. Yes I had pain, and I presented myself and my pain upon the people that cared and needed me. I didn't " get that" then as I was too sick to see past today. Today I had to get high. There was no tomorrow.
My last nightmare was the night before last and I was going to shoot up and for some reason I had a woman there pumping for my vein. Instead the vein itself became exposed bulging deep red and I stuck the needle in. The next thing I remember is being in the hospital because I had cut my arm multiple times from my elbow to my hand and I wanted to leave, but alas the powers that were thought I should be forced to take psychotropic meds. I awoke that morning feeling like I was still deep in the depths of addiction although I haven't put a needle in my arm for fifteen months.