So Much To Unlearn

I am sitting here as if I am sitting across the table from an old friend. "So, Blog, we meet again!" "Oh, my, I am happy to see you too!"

It has been quite some time since I have been here. I have missed it so much. At one time, this was one of the reasons I got up every day, but back then it was to read over the night before's drunken post and see if I had any comments. Most of my interacting back then was done at a bar or over a bottle (either of milk for my young Victorya or of booze for me) or over the internet. What has changed? I haven't been interacting over any bottles for almost 2 years now! (YAY!) I haven't been interacting online or in life much though.

I have to make my way up out of the darkness somehow. I have made many tries at re-emerging through my blog since my sobriety from alcohol, and again after getting off the pain pills. I guess it just wasn't yet my season to bloom. Is this my season? I don't know. The thing is, I don't know what led me down the path of binge drinking and partying. Maybe it wasn't anything that led me, but nothing leading me away from it? I have to wonder what makes me different than most 33 year olds?

Today, as I reflect on my past, I see a lot of pain. I realize that I was not taught to brush my teeth every day. I was not taught what a good work ethic was. I was never strong in my religion. No one told me how to "find a good man." No one taught me to eat well or exercise! I was comforted by food as a child and when I turned to alcohol at 13 and it became my new source of comfort, I think it came as a welcome reprieve from the tiring work of raising a child that was bestowed upon my poor clueless grandpa.

Today, as I look to my future, I realize I have a long ways to go, but I have overcome some pretty big obstacles. I have 3 beautiful children that I am proud of, and in spite of our hardships, we have made it through so much. I am maintaining my sobriety! October 14 is my clean day!

Something else amazing has happened. I have come off my suboxone. I did it all by myself after a major mess-up by the ER. They gave me dilaudid when I was seen for chest pain last week (which turned out to be pnuemonia). I am not supposed to have narcotics while on suboxone. As I did some research on the internet about it, I found out some very scary things about suboxone that no one ever told me when I agreed to take it... Like that it renders virtually all pain medication useless, and that in most cases it even makes general anesthesia ineffective!!! I am sorry, but I am not taking any chances of having to face a surgery with NO pain relief, just to avoid some withdrawals... and OH are they horrible. I am on day 5 now and just barely starting to see the light from the suffering they caused, but even more important, my head is clearing and my will to LIVE is coming back. After 5 months of intense anxiety and depression that have made me a recluse, I am starting to look for ways I can actively participate in my recovery. Coming off all substances was one part of my journey- a hard one, but now there is the business of unlearning all of the bad habits that lead up to the substance abuse and supported it. That's 20 years worth of unlearning!

I better get busy, because I have so much to unlearn!

Scraping Up Some Hope

I feel hopeless today. It is a horrible day. Well I feel horrible anyway. It should be a great day. I am taking Victorya to celebrate her upcoming 4th birthday at the Circus! Yay!! WEE!!! THE CIRCUS! ...nope not exactly. I am overwhelmed by so much internal chaos and anxiety, and I feel very depressed. I couldn't get up with Victorya early this morning. I kept her in bed with me watching cartoons until we fell back asleep and slept in until 10:30. I made it to the store because we had no food and my SIL needed to trade foodstamps for cash because they are living in a hotel and couldn't pay the room. I remember being in that predicament. It was so horrible and hard to get out of. I should be able to feel some relief that I am not there any more, right? 

I don't know what I feel. I feel like I am sinking. I feel like a failure. I don't know the black and white of my condition anymore. I guess that is what medicated bi-polar looks like. Everything's grey because the medications take away the black and white. At least I think that's how its supposed to work. I feel like I have only lost my mania and I am still incredibly depressed. I guess I am in the black hole of depression, no grey, no white. I am trying so hard to understand how to get out. I need help, but the things I am doing aren't helping. Meds aren't helping. Counseling isn't helping. I missed my counseling appointment this week because some drama with my daughter came up, and I got side tracked and forgot the appointment. Tells you how stable I am.

There is a recurrent theme that Destin's and my counselor keep insisting on : Sleep, diet, and exercise are key in recovering from anything. I dont feel like eating or exercising and all I want to do is sleep. I never feel rested. I never have energy. I am still in mourning for being manic. I find myself praying before bed that I could just have one good manic phase to help me get everything done that I am behind on. I was superwoman and could handle everything when I was manic. Now I can barely make it to the computer. 

Here are the things I am still getting done, although a little slow/late sometimes: Getting Victorya to school, keeping house picked up, but not as clean as usual, making dinner and cleaning up the kitchen after words (kids do dishes that fit in dishwasher), mine and Bryson's, and Victorya's laundry (slow, last minute), getting kids to all of their appointments, paying the bills. The problem is, I am struggling to get all of those things done. Each one is like facing up to my worst fear. Its like going on stage. I have panic build up and I sit paralyzed, sometimes until the last minute when I have to push myself, and then it takes all I have to get up and go. I feel panic when I am driving, when I am waiting in a waiting room, or sometimes for no reason at all and sometimes I can't breathe and it builds and builds until I cry. I have told both my Psychiatrist and my counselor and I get a lot more sympathy than I do solutions. I think Bryson is runing out of sympathy. He never had any solutions. The more I look at this, the more scared I get, as I realize I am probably not going to come out of this without a lot more agony. I am sick right now, yet somehow I need to be my own advocate and I have to fight to come out of this. I also need to fight because my kids need me. Destin has reported suicidal feelings all week. He has been falling asleep in class and the teachers are confused and don't know if its still his concussion or depression or? He needs an advocate too. Mentall illness isn't understood or accepted the way physical illness is. Part of my daily fears is that someone who is involved in our lives (counselor, school personnel, Dr.) is going to find me unfit to be taking care of the kids and is going to call social services. I have to get well. I have to, but I don't know how. I refuse to go down without a fight. I will keep taking what energy I have to scrape up some hope.

VENT

warning: random and erratic babbling and venting ahead

I just need to talk. In my life I am always the go to gal. Friends and family call me for advice, with questions, and when they need to talk. My own attitude of "If it can be done, then I can do it," carries over into every relationship I have, and people are aware that I am really good at solving problems. When it comes time to solving my own, there is not usually someone I can go to. I self talk in my head all the time, navigating my way through life's obstructions on my own, but sometimes it gets lonely, and sometimes I really just need to talk, to figure out my own stuff.

Right now I feel weighed down with indecision. Procrastination is running rampant in my everyday life and it's negative effects are taking a toll on my emotional health. I have felt depressed for the first time in quite a while. As always, I keep mental awareness of my bipolar disorder and I am feeling like this period of depressed is lingering longer than usual. It seems to have taken on a life of its own, one that is resistant to my usual tools. I can see the cycle of procrastination ~~~~> negative consequence ~~~~~> depression repeating itself over and over, each time gaining momentum. So why if I am so aware of it, do I feel so immobilized to change my actions?

One of the biggest things going on in my mind is that I am not working or in school. I can't get back in school because I have a defaulted student loan. If you have student loans, you know that once they are taken out, they get transferred to other companies sometimes. There is a state agency that is supposed to keep track of them all for you. While I was homeless I called to find out all of the agencies that were servicing my loans so that I could get a forbearance to delay repayment. I was told they were all with one company. So I called that company and got a years forbearance and thought it was ok. Well it seems that another loan was in the process of being transferred from one company to the new one and was not listed in the states database and so it went into default and since I had no address and I believed I had done what I needed to, I had no way of knowing.

Now it is with a collection agency that blatantly lied to me and told me that if I made 6 months of consecutive payments it would go out of default status, and I would again be eligible for financial aid to finish school. Turns out that they just wanted to collect and that my loan will not come out of default until it is paid. I have about 3 grand left to pay. They will take my tax return and it will likely pay it off, but the semester started today so i am on hold 'til next school year. sigh.

I would LOVE to go back to work. Problem is that in my situation I would either just break even or would actually lose money to work. I get survivors benefits for my children because their father died. If I work, they lower my benefits. Add the lost benefit money, the cost of daycare, the cost of transportation to and from work and I end up back at square one, with other people spending more time with my daughter than me. I just don't understand it. If I was getting child support, it would not get lowered because I made more money.

 We have no car payments, no credit cards, and we still cannot afford health insurance. Bryson has been at the same job for 3 years and just now is making $11 an hour, with no benefits. he gets one week of vacation a year that he has always just had to work through and take the extra pay because 1. we needed the money and 2. No one in that place can cover his shifts alone. It takes two people to cover a shift and do what he does by himself. The money that we get is just enough to provide the basics for our family. Something that I am totally okay with, except no health insurance. The kids are eligible for a state insurance program, but again the wonderful state agency responsible for administering the benefits messed up the application and did not update my address properly (another long and even more frustrating story than the student loans), but to make the story short, I had to appeal the decision which can now take up to 90 days to process and I am not allowed to reapply during the appeal time. I cannot just drop the appeal and reapply because I have hospital bills for the kids that would be covered if the appeal goes through.

I know these are just life things, obstacles that are a part of being an adult and that it is my responsibility to deal with. I would like to see a little more accountability on the other end, the end where it is their profession to efficiently handle these particular matters.

Bryson is 5 years younger than me and he is also a very passive person. We are opposites in a lot of ways, ways that compliment our relationship some times, and cause me a lot of stress at others. I handle everything that is not related to his work. Might I had that I am not the most structured person and so I do not have a schedule. I just do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. Normally that works out fine, but I am starting to feel worthless and like my contributions are trivial.

My kids are getting older and more self sufficient (12 and almost 10). After taking a Love and Logic course, I learned how to start teaching them and letting them experience life instead of doing it all for them. It is working well... so well, that they don't need me for very much anymore. They are also extremely helpful with my 2 year old, something that I am very grateful for, but it leaves me with even less that I am needed for. I of course provide emotional support and we have open honest very communicative relationships, but as they are doing their own laundry, cleaning their own rooms, and helping around the house consistently, there is less for me to do. I know all of these things are actually positive, but I need more substance and meaning in my existence and I am having a hard time finding an outlet to get there. I would like the balance to shift, to allow me some room to nurture my own interests. I need some sort of structured activity on a regular basis and I think that maybe a couple hours a day, a couple days a week in daycare would be good for my 2 year old. How am I going to make this work?

I am procrastinating on working on my book. I have a plethora of time on the internet and computer, but I cannot focus and set my mind to working on it. If I could right now, it would be to be involved in a structured writing responsibility. By that, I mean being in a class or writing as a paid occupation, so that I had expectations and deadlines. I also really want to take a photoshop class.

I know that if I would consistently put forth the effort to make these things possible, then they would materialize, but again I keep procrastinating. WHY?

I do not live out of expectation that my kids think I mean the world to them or that they couldn't exist without me. I actually hope more than anything they know that they CAN live without me because of what I have taught them. I don't need anyone else to see my accomplishments to be aware of my self worth. So what IS my motivation? It seems like a huge contradiction that I do not live my life for what other's expect of me, yet I am failing to have expectations of myself and apply them. I know that contentment and happiness are my goals... or are usually my state of being anyway. It seems that it takes an outside motivation to get me going. It takes an action to get a reaction and since everything is relatively peaceful and life is happening along, I do not feel the urgency to act on my wants.

What do I need to work on to get my internal motivation in sync? How can I harness some of my creativity and apply it to my daily life so that it is more fulfilling? What role does my family have in this process?

Another facet of my life that needs attention is my weight. For those of you that might not know, I had weight loss surgery about 5 years ago. I was 360+ pounds. At the tail end of my weight loss related to the surgery came my addiction to math and I got down to a very icky and unhealthy weight of 150. (I am 6' tall so it was too skinny for me) Well getting off the meth got me back up to around 200, which was really comfortable for me. Now I have been falling back into my old eating habits and have managed to add another 50 over the last year. I am feeling uncomfortable in my own skin again (and my clothes because they are all too tight ~HA!) and I keep putting of the changes I know I need to incorporate. I really need to see my surgeon to see if my pain that sent me to the ER has anything to do with my surgery and again I do not have insurance.

I think that maybe I really needed to put this all down to make myself accountable. Since I am the head of household and decision maker in the family, I am very good at keeping everyone else accountable but there is no one to do it to me. This is my affirmation that I NEED to be accountable for the changes that I know I need to make.

"Shawna'a Christmas Meth Carol" Part III ~Ghost of Tweaker Future

(Trigger Warning~ this is a warning that is very raw as it relates to drug use and suicide)



This is the most painful and frightening of all of my ghostly experiences. Tonight a talk dark demonic type apparition, pulls me suddenly from my slumber, and throws me through my bedroom wall. When I open my eyes I see no one, no thing, it is dark. I feel his cold ugly breath upon me.

I hear the sound of a projector, clicking and reeling from somewhere behind me. Before my eyes, begins the story of.....


There I am walking out of jail. My kids are not there to meet me, they are not allowed to see me until CPS can analyze my situation. What situation? I am homeless, jobless, and have just gotten out of jail. I have no money at all. No one ever came to visit me or put money on my books in the three years I was in jail.

Next thing, I am in the basement of my ex's cousin. The one that started making illegal checks. The one that stole people's identities. The only one that would answer my collect call. I am crying and then I see the pure evil he is holding. The loaded glass pipe. Please tell me I don't do it, please! 

I do it. I can't believe my eyes. I cry, I inhale, the room is filled with that wretched meth stench and smoke overwhelms the scene. It fades away and I see myself alone in a ratty motel room. There are burns on the comforter, the table, the floor. It is disgusting. I try to call the kids. My grandma reminds me that she is court ordered to keep them from talking to me until I have somewhere to live and CPS approves it. She says if I call one more time she is going to report me. I hear them talking in the background. It kills me inside.

All the shelters are full. I only have the backpack and few clothing items that I got at the Community center, and my motel voucher for this place runs out tomorrow. I don't even know what happened to Bryson. He went to jail when I did, but he was only the co defendant. He had much less charges and he got out before me. He was not allowed to contact me since we committed the same crimes together. No one else that we knew together is still in the same place. Most of them are in jail or prison.

I feel hopeless. I am in pain. I am depressed. I can't afford anymore drugs. I do not want my kids to see me like this ever. How can I ever stop? How can I go on in the pain I am in? I cannot afford anything to kill myself with.

 I see myself roll out of the bed and almost slither to the ground. I look like I am in so much pain. I crawl on all fours to the table and chair. I switch on the light and grab the chair to pull myself up. I grab a pen and begin writing.


This is what I write:

Ive been here too long. Ive already spent more days here than I should have been allowed and my time has come. Destin and Aliviya…. I never should have brought you into this world knowing how I felt about myself. I thought that having kids was the answer to all my problems. I thought that kids would love me and give me what I never had. It isn’t your fault. You are the best kids anyone could ever ever ask for. You gave me the best memories I could have imagined. You taught me what love really is. You showed me that to really love someone you have to give of yourself and not expect back. You have to love from your whole self and expect nothing. I wish I was capable of that. Maybe in another lifetime…. Maybe if my mom was here to love me and give me that wholeness inside I would be able to stay with you and give it to you. 

You are probably going to feel like I’m selfish and that I don’t love you, but I’m taking this moment to write this to let you know it isn’t true. I’m tired of being alone. I have nothing to give the two of you and I keep making the mistake of giving what little I do have to men whom I believe will complete me… complete us and make us a family, but make bad choices with me. In the end they only take from me and I don’t have the strength to build myself back up one more time. I have done it for the last time. If this life were fair…. God would have taken me gracefully from you instead of your father. Your Dad loved you and he had strength deep within that I am not capable of. Unfortunately suicide isn’t very graceful and I wish I didn’t have to let you see that. Death never really feels good to the people left behind to experience it, but it’s something that we all must come upon eventually. I want to come upon it now, while I still have memories that are good and my heart is full of love for the two of you… before all the wrong I have done catches up to me and your memories become filled with my mistakes and you become full of hurt and hate. Do not hate me for leaving. I want to give you a chance to have love. It is the only thing that matters in life. 

Do not make important to you the material things that everyone will make you think are important. You always look out for each other. You are family and you two are all you have. I am so thankful I was graced with the ability to have two children to be there for each other and I do not bare the burden of leaving you alone. I know that you two will be loved and taken care of by someone who will be able to help you remember that I loved you as much as I could and will remind you that I left because my strength ran out… not my love. Always be kind to everyone. The people who need it most are probably not strong enough to be kind to you. Keep your heads up and your minds open. Do not let drugs and alcohol ruin your vision. You have to stay aware of what reality is in order to get through it and when you do drugs and drink alcohol you don’t know what is real anymore. Don’t let people steal your heart…. like I did. You make them earn it and take care of it… it is where all of your love is and it’s all that you are.

Don’t forget me please. Look at pictures… take time to remember all the good times we had and know that all I ever wanted was to give you good memories. I have run out of the means to provide you with any more, so treasure the ones you have, and make it important to give each other many more. As time goes on I’m sure that other people worthy of your time and love will come along. Give them good memories too. I love you with all of my heart. You are so beautiful and I am so lucky to have been in your life for this long. Maybe a miracle will save me from the hate that has consumed me… but if not know that you are so special and please do not regret that I am your mother. I did the best I could.

  

LOVE ALWAYS,

MOM xoxox

Then before my very eyes on the screen ahead of me in this darkness, I crawl to the bed. I call my grandma and tell her to send the police for me and I give her the address and room number. I pull back the blanket and nasty burned bedspread and reveal the sheet. I pull it off as well, and drag it along with myself to the bathroom to seal my fate the same way my mother did. I briefly see myself hanging from the shower and then everything turns black and cold.

**** This is probably one of the hardest things I have faced. It is also one of the most personal I have shared, because that is my actual suicide note, that I wrote, high out of my mind, 5 years ago. A miracle DID save me and I am instead here, happy, healthy, clean, writing this tale of what my future would be like if I hadn't stopped when I did.

"Shawna's Christmas Meth Carol" Part II ~Ghost of Tweaker Present

Of course I no longer use crystal meth, and so this is my version of what I think my present would be like if I had not stopped using.


"Ghost of Tweaker Present"


Even though I am still shaken from last night's visit, it does not deter the spirits that be from pursuing me. In my thought riddled state of half sleep, I am fully awakened by the ghost of the present, flying feverishly through my room. It seems he wants to show me something. I am again whisked into the warm night air, guided by my present spirit. The air begins to turn cold, and snow starts to fall.


We head in a familiar direction, over many a structures I know too well. We are heading to my childhood home, where my step grandmother still lives. The neighborhood is full of holiday cheer and festive lights.Again I am guided to look in the window.


I see my children. They are sitting on the floor and they seem to be making something. It is Christmas time and the house is decorated with all the same decorations that have adorned its walls and occupied its space at Christmas time for at least 20 years prior. I do not see Victorya. I wonder where I am?


I lean in closer so that I can hear what they are saying.
Destin is my 11 year old son
Aliviya is my 9 year old daughter


Destin: Do you think that Mom will like the card I made her?
Aliviya. Of course she will like it. You made it.


Destin: What are you making her?
Aliviya: I guess I have to make her a card too. Grandma says they don't allow many things in the jail. I don't want to send her something that she might not get.


Destin: Yeah I was really sad when the necklace that we got her for mother's day got sent back
Aliviya: I wish she could be here for Christmas. Grandma says she is never allowed in this house again. I don't  understand why they put moms in jail. Don't they know she has kids that need her?


Destin: Aliviya, it is more complicated than that. You will understand when you get older.
Aliviya: That's what everyone tells me. I am tired of people thinking I don't know anything. (getting tears) I just want her back. I hate living with Grandma.


Destin: She will be out by next year. I am sure she won't mess up and we will go to live with her again.. There is nothing you can do to change it this year. Please stop crying and try to make her a nice card.






I am so sad. I cannot stop crying and I cannot believe my children will be spending Christmas without me, and me without them. I am also horrified when I realize Victorya is not there... because she was never born.

" Shawna's Crystal Meth Carol" ~Ghost of Tweaker Past

I have decided to challenge myself to something very real. At this time of year we are filled with glee and joy, sad and hurt of what it "should be," or a mixture of both. My friend xxx at SPIRIT IS MY DRUG just took this amazing journey, as did Ebenezer Scrooge in his own life,  and I think it will help me.

I would also like to challenge anyone here, as it so applies to your condition ( sex, food, drug- addiction, codependency, recovery, etc.) to do the same.

"Ghost of Tweaker Past"

Tonight my stern new acquaintance leads me through the warm fresh night air. I hold on for dear life. We settle upon my old neighborhood. We descend to the house that we presently refer to as "The house on Saratoga."  My ghostly companion nudges me over to the window. I look down and see myself, and Bryson, asleep in bed. This is what happens....

 I sleep unaware of even my own existence, lost to the world, in what is often called a "tweaker coma," I awake to my same old bedroom, my same as always situation, and quickly look to find that little tiny bag ...the one that brings me to life... the one that allows me to get out of bed. I do not usually even sleep, but obviously the drugs ran out, cause I am waking in a bed- strange? I do not even wonder how long I have been asleep. I have no idea where my 5 and 8 year old children are. I assume I took care of that before I passed out.

I hurt. I think for a split moment that I should try to get out of bed... that I should think of SOMETHING.... ANYTHING other than getting high. The room is fuzzy. I still don't know where my children are. Perhaps I should go find them. I try to stand and it HURTS. My back hurts, my neck hurts, blinking does not feel so good.

I sit back down and I look at my little stash box and I open it, hopeful. PLEASE tell me there is some dope left! I look in and find nearly a teener! Holy wow! God must love me today! I don't even think back to wonder how I got so lucky. Glass pipe? check! Lighter? check? 2 minutes later I feel no pain. Life is great and I have "clarity."

Well DAMN! would you look at that? Bryson just happens to be laying next to me? didn't notice him before. Poor guy. I bet he will wake up and feel like crap. I better get him up and let him know that somehow we have so much dope left and that he can feel better too!

10 minutes later we are two overly confident and motivated individuals. I look at the clock and it says 6:15. We are in the basement, and in our room, where there is purposely no light. Who wants to acknowledge LIFE happening? I can now remember getting here at 4:00 in the afternoon and I think... Right ON! I have only been "out" for  2 + hours. I didn't do too bad. 


I walk out of the room to where there are windows, and it is still dark. Hmmmm dark at 6:15 at night? ) I look in every room and in every "hiding spot." maybe there is more dope or even MONEY in one- we do hide it from ourselves and those tweakers. No luck, so I look for my children. Upstairs, I find... The kids both asleep in their beds. Bryson's mother also asleep in her bed (she has been our dealer and babysitter/roommate for a while now.) I think that all is well and head downstairs to smoke another bowl so that I can do laundry and call Bryson's Uncle P (our BEST dealer) to line up our next deal.

I am so ahead of the game- I have like two hours 'til the kids need to be at school! I just might deserve to smoke ANOTHER bowl!  I can make a couple fake checks for people to cash and buy some more dope to sell, and THEN I can even (gasp) make them breakfast! Life is GOOD!

Remembering where I came from and sharing it

I am kind of in a complacent place in life. I am taking in more than I am producing. I feel like reading more than I feel like writing. I have periods of time in my life filled with all kinds of different writing.... journaling, poetry, stories, my book.

I am going to share some different pieces through the next couple of posts. They represent me at very different emotional times, but almost all of them are from when I was in a time of despair, either from reflecting on the event I write about, or swallowed up in depression, mania, or addictions. They are all significant in my life journey and have helped create the person I am today.