What IS Important?

If you have been here before, it is likely that you know that I take very seriously the task of defining myself. I come from a colorful background, one that could have easily painted the picture for my future. If I were to be defined by my past, I doubt there would be an inch of available space on the canvas of my life. I believe that one of my strengths has been the ability to draw on my past, and use the experiences as tools to help create my future.

I struggle with falling into the trap, that my belongings are a representation of my worth. There are some "things" that I am proud of myself for acquiring, but I have learned that even when I am stripped of all my possessions, that I am left with myself. As a person, I have many valuable characteristics. The "things" that I value in myself most, are not the things you can see, but rather feelings and memories, and the ability to share them.

I reject the notion that I am defined by my material possessions. There was a time when that was not the case. There was a time when I was empty on the inside, and the only way I knew how to express myself was through belongings, because they were all I had. I had some things that I had become seriously attached to. One of them was my grandma's wedding ring. Somehow in my mind, I had equated that ring with the whole value of my grandmother. Without having her alive, I believed having her ring was a close second. It wasn't until I pawned her ring, and the pawn shop made a mistake in the paperwork, and mistakenly sold her ring, that I started to become aware that there was more than the material things.

I didn't realize it be choice. I realized it out of necessity, because I had to come to terms with her ring being gone. To be honest, it was almost as painful as actually losing her. Reflecting on that now, I feel sad for the old me. As I sat on the sidewalk in front of the pawnshop and cried, I started remembering all of the times that ring had been significant.

I imagined my grandparent's wedding day. I thought of my grandma's smile. Whenever she got compliment's on it, she would always blush. I remembered being a little girl and begging her to let me wear it and she would tell me it was too big for me and she didn't want to lose it, but she would let me play with it on her finger. I would twist it around and run my fingers across the beautiful diamonds, and imagine my wedding day.

I remembered sitting at her bedside, all the different times we went to see her at the hospital, her ring absent because she was recovering from open heart surgery. I would hold her hand and run my fingers over the spot where it belonged. It was obvious by the skin that had not been touched by the sun. The only time she took it off was for surgery.

I remembered the last time I sat by her bedside, as she was hooked up to so many machine's, struggling to survive following a stroke. She hadn't had surgery and her ring was still on her finger. That was the last time I saw her alive. I remember going up to her casket to say my final goodbye's. My uncle Joe from my grandpa's side walked with me and he helped me lift her cold and stiff hand to remove the rosary we had selected just a week earlier, and her ring.

I also remember the day of my wedding. I was 16 years old, and all of the tension about my young marriage had dissipated. My Grandpa had embraced the idea he once rejected, and he gave me a little yellow envelope. With his cute little sheepish grandpa smile, he urged me to open it. Inside, I found my grandma's ring. It was now to be mine.

Over the years, I never could call it "my ring." It was still my grandma's to me. I stared at the asphalt, my face stung from the drying tears. I had a lot of regret for ever pawning the ring in the first place, but I realized that it wasn't the ring that had the most value. It's value was still it's weight in diamond's and platinum, but worth more than any ring in the world, were my memories. I thought about what my grandma would say if she knew I had lost it. I knew she would be more concerned with making me feel better then she would with the ring. The marriage I had used it for had already failed. Maybe it was time for the ring to go make memories for someone else, but it didn't take my memories with it.

“Like the wind crying endlessly through the universe, Time carries away the names and the deeds of conquerors and commoners alike. And all that we are, all that remains, is in the memories of those who cared we came this way for a brief moment.” ~ Harlan Ellison

The Need to be Me

My life has been a whirlwind of change in past months. Giving up daily drinking binges was an amazing turning point for me. I had been using the alcohol to express myself. I had to learn who I really was again. I was existing in my emotional sub conscience every day. It took some serious getting used to; to get comfortable being sober was not an overnight feat. I still drink for social occasions. I am not an alcoholic that spirals back into alcohol abuse after one drink. In fact, it only reminds me why I needed to stop, and, well, hangovers suck!

I suffered a lot of insomnia and anxiety about sleep for quite a while. I was used to blacking out and not remembering how I got to bed. I had a lot of amends to make with my 10 year old daughter, who had began resenting me, and fearing our daily trip to the liquor store. I had a lot of guilt for the $300 plus a month we were spending on alcohol. I can't take back the past, but I can appreciate that I pulled myself out and regained my priorities.

We finally got out of the tiny, dark, moldy duplex we were in and moved a block away into a perfect sized house. All of the kiddos have their own rooms, which I painted for them. Destin has a Bob Marley/Rastafarian room. Aliviya has a mix of her favorite color- Lime Green, Purple, and Teal. Victorya has a Lavender Tinkerbell Room. We have a huge sandbox and a garden area. I am going to grow some things this year!

I am growing inside, too. I realized that most of how I defined myself, was really about being a mother, a wife, an aunt, a sister-in-law... but that I hadn't been nurturing myself. I am still learning how. I have so much guilt when I think of myself. I have emotional road blocks in the form of all of the people who have judged me or condemned my actions.

I have been rapid-cycling. For anyone who does not know, I am Bi-polar and unmedicated. I choose to manage my depression and mania rather than medicate, and have been med free for many years. I have not rapid cycled since before my meth addiction and now I am re-evaluating my options for medications. My depressions and manic episodes used to be mild and switched only a couple times a year. They are now changing as often as 2 times a week. I need an adjustment period in order to recognize the change and switch gears, and it is happening so fast that I do not feel very in control anymore. I realize now that I was self medicating with the alcohol and so of course things are different without it.

I am under a new Dr's care and I am being my own self advocate despite my challenges. My back is slowly getting better. I had to switch my whole family to new Primary care, because the care we were getting was horrible.

Destin was hospitalized again for suicidal ideation related to his anxiety. He thought he was better and wanted off his meds. It was a scary lesson, but an important one. He is back on them and just finally stabilizing again. He has not been diagnosed, but I see classic symptoms of Bipolar. He is on abilify for his anxiety, but I do believe it is managing the bipolar symptoms.

We have an amazing in house counseling service and we have 3 different mental health professionals working with our whole family and it is wonderful.

I don't know where I am going with my life, but I am staying in the race and moving forward. I need to be writing again. I need to learn how to express myself without alcohol and get closer to my goal of writing a book. I need to be accountable for me, to me. I am getting past the fears that have prevented me from reaching some of my goals.

I am going back to school in the fall and my baby will be starting preschool! I also learned that my felony will not come up on an FBI background check after 7 years, and that means I can still be a nurse! Being able to use my mistakes and experiences to help others has always been my dream.

Making myself a priority does not come naturally to me, but I am getting better at it, and I am realizing that defining myself allows me to have better relationships. I need to be Me.

If Heaven Had a Phone...

I would call Thomas and talk to him about the daily struggles his kids are facing. I would ask him for advice on dealing with his son's anxiety, because he, too, struggled with panic attacks and general anxiety. I could ask him to talk to Destin, and let him know he really isn't having a heart attack every time he has a panic attack. I would ask him what punishments he thinks are appropriate for the things that have happened lately. I would ask him to talk to Destin about drug use and all of the problems it caused him and his family. I could have him explain to the kids that he became such a different person when he became a father, and that he wasn't like all the druggies in his family anymore. He could reassure me that he is happy that he was able to work enough that his family receives his SSI, and allows me to provide for his kids no matter what. He would tell me that I need to stop feeling guilty and I need to remember to forgive and not judge.

 I would be able to talk to him  about his nieces. I would tell him how we were right, that their step-dad was sexually abusing them. I would tell him how they moved in here, and the oldest one attempted suicide several times while she was here. I would tell him that the younger one is pregnant. I would tell him about all of the late night calls, and hospital stays, the talks about the horrible things they have endured and how sad I am that we didn't do more. I would tell him that the older one is such a beautiful caring person who's pain runs so deep that she can't even see her own beauty. I would tell how the younger one is so beautiful on the outside, but is living in a life if denial, that makes her ugly inside. I can hear him laughing when I tell him that she hates me, because we both know that there is always time for healing and forgiveness.

If heaven had a phone, I would call my mother and ask for her advice. I would ask what anyone could have done to prevent her suicide. I would ask her what I can do to help save my nieces life. I would update her on all of her grandkids. I would ask her why she left us. I would remind her that I forgive her and tell her how much I love her.

If heaven had a phone, I would call my Grandma and tell her I understand what she meant when she used to tell me she is so tired, she wishes that she could just lay down, close her eyes, and never wake up. I would wait for her kind, warm, words of wisdom, and soak up her beautiful voice. I would ask her if she is caring for my little Arianna, and perhaps she would tell me my grandpa is holding her right now. I would ask her for her choke cherry jelly recipe and tell her how much I wish she was her to show me how to make it. I would talk to her about how angry I am with my step- grandma for forcing me out of our home after grandpa died, and how I haven't been in the house for almost five years. She already knows about everything, and she would remind me that harboring anger only hurts me, that I have all the great memories of that house, and that I should practice forgiveness to free my soul.

If heaven had a phone, I would talk to my grandpa and tell him how scared and alone I feel sometimes and he would tell me to quit that nonsense. I would tell him how sorry I am that I didn't listen more. I would tell him how lucky I was to have grandparents, and how bad I wish my kids had grandparents. I know he would tell me that when he was raising me alone, he had to be my mom and grandma and dad and grandpa, and I would remember that he did a wonderful job. I would remind myself that I need to forgive myself, and keep doing the best that I can do.

Who would you call if heaven had a phone?

Who I Am

I am so many things. A woman, mother, survivor. My life has had so many experiences and it is mottled by so many stereotypically "bad" things. Today for the first time I have realized that long ago, I mastered defining myself. Is the definition complete? Of course not. Do you see me as I see myself? Probably not.

Take for instance, one recent aspect of my life... my chronic binge drinking. Do I call myself an alcoholic? no. When my life got out of control with an addiction to meth, did I call myself an addict? no.

There are always aspects of my life that are out of control, yet I still remain strong and I am able to proceed with this certain confidence that I can do anything I want to. Why? because I genuinely believe it.

I don't believe in God. Haven't for a long time. I believe in the good of all people and I believe there is good energy, beyond what we can see, that can be felt and can be harnessed, but I do not believe in some judgmental guyish type entity that has control over anything or that has expectations of me or that will punish me if I do not act accordingly.

I also do not believe there is a conscious existence after this one, so I really do make the most of using my consciousness :)

I know I haven't been around in a while. To try and explain all of the missed events would take entirely too much time and most of all energy for me to relive so that I could type it all out.

Today I spent the better part of the day looking for blogs on eating disorders. My niece is bulimic and she has been staying with us for awhile. When I haven't been reacting to a suicide attempt, panic attack, or sitting in an emergency room or psych hospital, I have been trying to understand the pressures that could lead to such self destructive behaviors.

The big thing that is missing, is self acceptance. As I read blog after blog, no matter the subject matter, there is a consistent theme of people who do not accept themselves. Fear that their appearance is not good enough, belief that they are unlovable, pain that they do not see themselves as capable of curing- whether it be emotional or physical pain.... and even worse I see so many people using one substance or another to try and feel better.

I guess that the big difference for me is that I learned to accept myself. I have also abused substances, but I abused them for the immediate gratification of whatever effect they caused and not to numb any type of emotional pain. When I abused meth, it was because I was recovering from a physical dependency on prescribed pain medicine and I liked the energy and alertness it gave me. My addictions were more of a physical and chemical relationship and when the risks outweighed the benefits, I quit. It was so easy because I did not have emotional dependencies on the substances.

It seems like such an aha for me to realize this for myself, but also as it applies to anyone else who is suffering. The key to overcoming an addiction or self destructive behavior or disorder is self acceptance.

Ironically, I did not master this until I had gastric bypass surgery because I was miserable in my 360 lb body, lost 200 lbs, had a body lift and got boobs, and realized that I could change my packaging all I wanted, but all it really changed is how other people saw me. What this taught me, was that what really mattered all along is how I saw me. How could I have ever thought that someone else's opinion of me trumped mine? How could I have ever thought that any one individual life was more important than another. You need to matter to you. You can be the best you and honor the good in you through self acceptance.

Where does this leave me today? That is the question I am asking myself. I haven't quite found my place in society, but I secured my place in the Universe from the start. I am not sure I want a place in society. I don't look too highly on fancy houses or cars. I only get out of my pajamas if I have to! None of my possessions define me and to be quite honest, most things in my house are purely functional, nothing impressive.

I took back control of negative and positive energy in my life when I realized nobody deserved to cause me pain, and that I have a right to decide what and who I want in my life. So yes, I have amazing emotional control over my life. I do not have any of the typical things that people usually associate with happiness, but I have myself and I happen to like me, so I am happy.

In any given situation in my life there is always one constant, me. If I don't like me then there is always going to be negativity in everything that I do. If the negativity got to be so constant and overwhelming, I can see why I would use other outlets to try and bring positive in or get the negative out... such as needing a codependent relationship, a substance, etc.

Some people have religious beliefs and they believe that the only constants are themselves, God, and Satan. I don't like that equation because it gives away too much. I like having control over how much negative is in my life and I don't like writing off certain behaviors as godly or evil. I believe everyone is capable of making their life something that they love. I just don't know how to help someone else to believe in themselves.

I've been lying to you...

... actually I just wasn't telling the whole truth. Over the last couple of months I haven't even thought of writing. Why? The events of my life have been too chaotic and have taken up all of my energy.

I am on a new path of self discovery, but it is only after I confess something, that I can feel that this new path can begin here. So here it is.... since before I even began this blog, I was an alcoholic, and so much of what has been written here was done so in complete drunkenness.

There I finally said it!

When I started writing here I was in denial. I thought I was just socially drinking and having a good old time. I was so proud of myself for beating meth that I justified a 2+ year long alcoholic celebration.

I don't know how many times I thought about mentioning it, but I was afraid it would take away my credibility. I was really enjoying being a supportive voice to other addicts and their parents. I had not accepted that drinking to the point of blacking out everyday was a problem.

My guilt really started to accumulate when I started to see a pattern of out of control spending on alcohol and not enough money for necessities. I knew that I could easily turn to many of my online friends for support, but the truth was, I just wasn't ready to quit. I didn't know what to replace it with.

So here I am, slowly taking steps forward on life's uncertain path. My life did not spiral out of control the way that it did with meth, but I realized I was taking a wrong turn and headed slowly back in the wrong direction.

It feels good to have many consecutive sober days, to be without the daily need of alcohol, and to remember going to bed at night.

Sometimes I would write here on this blog, while I was blacked out, and it would be like a little surprise to get up in the morning and see if my blacked out mind matched up with my sober one.

It is never too late to start taking steps in the right direction.