Defining Fate

I entered treatment on March 25, 2014 after running head on into the arms of surrender. I couldn't fathom another shot or the back seats I grew familiar with to get what was in them. I was no longer able to look people in the eye and ceased caring about getting arrested or even killed. I welcomed the idea of intervention. You could say I was finally at a standstill with myself. After treatment, I was staying with my grandma and other family and got an amazing job as full time nanny. I can remember waking up everyday amazed at the rate that my life was transforming. I went from homeless IV drug addict to trusted with children within 2 months. I always wonder if they'd love me any less if they knew. Anyway, I had about 4 months clean when I was watching the boys so their parents could have a date night. I usually worked Monday though Thursday and never passed 5 but I needed the money and wanted to help out. I was fortunate to catch the last max heading home. Not long after I got on, I felt the presence of someone I knew and my body reacted before I could. I was shaking and contemplating getting off at the next stop even though I'd be stranded in Hillsboro. I looked up to see him look up at the same time. We had both been hiding behind our books, too nervous to start conversation for fear that the other was still using. But we couldn't deny this strange coincidence that I soon renamed fate. It was Johnny. We caught up and complimented each other on how healthy we both looked. I was stimulated with strands of confusion, fear, and excitement that reignited the flame I burned for him. He never knew it but the unexplained hold he had on me was the only thing that could have stopped me from going through those treatment doors. Even though I never saw him after the motel, a part of me was still strung out on the idea of "what if". Our train ride conversation made a life of its own. I wanted to hate him but he said he was sorry before I could. I could tell he meant it. There was little resemblance of the man I thought could give a shit about me. This man was painted with remorse. His stop was before mine so we hugged and parted ways. I told him I didn't want his number but accepted the kiss he placed gently on my cheek. Somehow, I managed to keep him blocked on facebook for about one more month.. until the "what ifs" got too loud to quiet. I decided that that pivotal and all too unexpected max line reunion wouldn't limit itself to that train ride. We ended up seeing each other for a year and a half. This is the rest of our story..

This is the story about the man who sought refuge in my heart
His glance told stories
It sang songs, reviving and pioneering all at the same time 
His melody was beauty and foreign, a vacation I never wanted to leave
He had a touch made out of deliberation and intention that always left me disoriented
His kiss was a wild fire that never knew when to stop
It was force, incomparable and thought breaking all by itself 
And he held a magnetism that drew strength from the current that dances just under the ocean's waves,
leaving me no other choice but to love him unconditionally

He was my lantern light of reunification and self-exploration,
shining the light through some of the unsuspecting jungles of young adulthood
His childlike soul had its own rhythm that moved the hips and the feet and the heads of everyone who heard it
And it heartened those parts of myself that had forgotten their own fluidity 
His trust in love and faith in how the world works illuminated my shadowy corners of doubt
He was confidence and ease, and contagious enough to spread through me in everything I did
Regardless of our needlepointed nightmare, he was 13 shades of a chivalry that I never knew before
And on those icy, secretive winter nights, he was a warrior made up of the type of magic that has no limits 
He became home

Our sacred language was only being taste tested before the old love we used to share came to interrupt the noise
She lived in the fabric of the rays of the sun and your best childhood memory,
Made inside the Devil's handshake, she only knew how to take
Her persuasion was more than just a one night stand, creating an epidemic of need that echoed through forever
She was freedom, allurement, destruction, potency, and like his kiss, she was something to crave
Her force was effortless and depriving, taking the breath of anyone who stood too close
Her name was Crystal and she was everything I can never be
We became a whirlwind of explanations and ultimatums, cradling a love past its expiration date 
And I learned a new jargon, one rooted in mistrust that either took us around or away

Our potential has become elusive like an iridescent sheen that's only captured in some lights
Nostalgia has replaced our nomadic circus of impracticality and second chances
And left an ache that has no name
Some days, when stillness whispers too long, my restless thoughts play tug of war with all the things we can't reclaim
and on those days, his absence rushes through me and I can feel the unrelenting rapids of habit pull me all over again
Tamed to fit in that space between love and logic, he's my firefly of familiarity and reluctance
Our love sleeps in a box wrapped in honor and pride, protected from manipulation, instigation, and resentment
And when the sun kisses the earth goodnight, forgiving all the unlit pockets of the city
Our lions quiet their roar

Needle Point Lullaby

It's been over 2 and half years since I've touched this blog. I've come close a few times but I was utterly uninterested in looking at it. Somehow, I made it through almost 30 days of what I called sobriety. I know now that what I experienced was nothing close the word. Instead, I'm going to call it one of my half-assed attempts at staying clean. I wasn't ready for what true sobriety really meant and had no concept of how it could completely change me in the places I needed renovation. Honestly, I vaguely remember this time in my life. All I really remember is how I let that needle find its way back into my skin the day after I posted my last entry. I met another useless face on some dating site and I must of had the words "PLEASE RELIEVE ME" written somewhere in the about me section because he did. His name was Johnny and he was more than I expected. I could smell his active addiction and I craved it. I closed my eyes and begged dark wolf to show me his strength. I spent 3 days with him.. 3 drug induced days fancying some of the seediness 82nd motels Portland has to offer. I thought I could love him. We talked about moving to Tennessee. He would work, I would stay home and cook.. and we'd stay high forever. I didn't even know how to cook. But I could learn. I wasn't terribly surprised when our game of make-believe ended just as quick as it came. It was nice but nothing like the warm rush we were really there for. I wanted to believe him but how could I believe in a future with a man I just met off Mocospace earlier that day? Let alone a man with drug problem worse than mine who had my clothes off in about 25 minutes. I knew better but it was nice to play jump rope with the idea that he'd take me away from myself. Even if it was to Tennessee.. I wonder if he even knew someone there. Anyway, I was fluent in the unspoken language of exchange. You're either a woman who knows about it or one who doesn't. I called it, "being resourceful." As much as I'd like to call it something else, I knew why I was there. I remember seeing all the old metal spoons behind the front desk.. the used spoons people left behind. I remember I was disgusted but my judgement stopped there as I took one like the tradition it must of become. I wasn't better than any of those spoons or the blackened residue that covered them. My disease took me to some of the darkest corners you can imagine and this was one. I can remember sitting in places so grotesque that I too felt grotesque. I always questioned why I never left. But I liked knowing about the secrets of the city.. I knew what could happen when the moon said hello. Sometimes I'd sit and stare at her from the trap house or through the back seat window.. And I wondered what she thought of me or if she ever did. 
My brief moment of infatuation with this guy floated away when I took a shot that was just too much even for the girl that always cries for more. The curtains started dancing and the room swirled around. My eyes wouldn't focus and 2 stepped in all directions.. probably frantically searching for a reason for how I could be this reckless. My breathing slowed then quickened then slowed then quickened. My fear catapulted through my self destruction and I knew I could die in the loneliness place I've ever been.. with a man I just met online.. in a place where they salvaged dirty spoons. My 22 year old story would become another secret on an ugly motel blanket. I looked at him.. I waited for him to respond. He was on his phone looking for girls to add to the party and I wanted to be anywhere else but here. I don't remember fighting. 
I went to treatment less than a week after this experience but left after I detoxed. Dark wolf was too aggressive to domesticate. I ended up back at the same motel with the same guy. I had experienced defeat and loss in the most personal way and didn't have much else to lose. We were both handicapped by the ball and chain of addiction and both declared ourselves as newly homeless. The day before I met back up with him, my locks were changed and I was no longer a part of my family. But I knew where to go and who to bring with me. Before then, I had no idea that the Value Inn motel could get more heart wrenching. I was 22 years old with an IV drug problem and an inability to make good decisions. It echoed throughout the halls and wrote itself on the walls until I breathed it in as truth. By the time he met me in my room, I couldn't speak or raise my eyes off the floor. He said all the right things and I let myself hang on every word. I swallowed everything I knew wasn't true and handed over my independence because I knew all I was capable of was paving sidewalks for fresh mistakes. I rested in the thought that we could do this together. He became my new salvation. The next day, circumstances separated us. It would be about 5 months before I saw him again. This is my experience in that motel with Johnny and dark wolf..

He sang sweet songs, sweet needle point lullabies

His eyes were crystalized, their awestruck blackness ate me whole

I stayed mesmerized by his carelessness and smooth complexion

He spit ease and promised comfort

His perversions helped to define me

He fed off the helpless story my eyes told

Like a rat chewing holes in already worn socks

The deeper the needle dug, the closer we became

2 more strangers brought together by a spoonful of pretty crystal flakes,

Praying for something better

The dope trampled through our veins, fusing us together

I take the shot and let it break me to pieces

I become fragments, collaged together to make one unnecessary disaster

I am legs. I am eyes. I am lips. I am warmth. I am sultry. I am body language.

I am delirium. I am carelessness.

I am 37 flavors of wreckage

I am the thrust in his hips and the look in his eyes. I am property.

I am the dope sack and the remains left behind

I am just weight on the mattress

I am another girl on another motel bathroom floor

I am the holes in my arms

I am confined, super glued to a picture of a drug addicted whore

Yet, I still believe I am endless

I stay paralyzed in this moment, in my fear of a better way

In this ecstasy

I stay paralyzed in my regrets, in my remembrance of all things lost

In all the moments I lost my control in an empty dope bag

It wraps around me like lights on Christmas tree

My bad decisions and remorse surround me

In a cheap motel room with broken windows and a broken tv

It breathes in my heartbreak and exhales my defeat

I am alone but my broken parts fit right in

The sticky windows separate us from daily life

This is a place of isolation, not escape

The morning sun doesn’t shine on us

We’re just chasing after freedom in the wrong place,

Singing our needle point lullaby.

Remnants of the Storm

I watched the storm. I watched it pass. I didn't even feel it. The streets cleared and it was like it never happened... but then I found the remnants of snow tucked away.

Like the snow, I've been finding traces of my "issues", my trauma, who I was, who I still am, delicately placed all over. My mistakes lay on the sidewalk down the street. I could still see them even under inches of snow. They were right by the buildings with the bright lights that read, "video poker".. right where I left them. I was hoping the rain would melt them away too. It's funny to think that people drive by the little bars all the time and don't even notice the neon signs. I can't help but turn my neck as if to acknowledge and long for a piece of me. If you squint hard enough, you can make out their shapes - my crazy stories, my bad decisions, my fear, my heartbreak - staining the city like hair dye on the carpet. As much as I want to desert them, I always stop to dust them off. I place them in my hands and try to soften their noise.  But they're never quiet. I hear my laughter, amplified after 5-6 drinks as if to prove sincerity. I hear the roaring downpour of chaotic rain.. the rain I stood in, waited in, fought in, ran in. I still feel the hot heat of last Summer's sun and the cheap drinks I inhaled to smother my amphetamine crash. All the seasons come to reunite in my little corners of the city.. where I've made the most storms.

Without my mistakes, I don't know who I am. And when enough time passes and they transform into hazy figures.. 

I make a new one. 

Like Anchoring a Balloon

This is my fourth attempt at trying to write something. I haven't formulated many words since Thursday and I don't really have much of an explanation. Some days, words just feel too foreign. I spent the last 3 days somewhere else. I have days where I disassociate and perhaps I should explain what this looks like. Disassociating is a survival technique used when people experience trauma. It has varying degrees of intensity from mild forms like what I experience to multiple personalities. It's really hard to describe and it's different than depression. It tastes like a apathy and weightlessness. I can be surrounded by people but feel completely far away. When I'm gone, I'm not lost in my thoughts or analyzing every situation. Honestly, I don't think much when it happens. I don't even dream. I'm just kind of there with no real attachments. It's almost like a balloon that's loosely tied to something to keep from floating away. A lot of the time I don't notice it until I have to think critically. Days when I feel it and need to be around people are the hardest. My thinking slows down and I have to become more aware of the present moment so I can keep up with conversation and stay unnoticed. Paying attention becomes a struggle. It's a feeling where not much makes sense and things just don't feel right. Even writing this feels unnatural but I want to share my whole experience and this is part of it. I have yet to figure out what invites it. It seems to come and go whenever. It started when I was kid for reasons I'm not aware of and has gotten more noticeable over the last few years. I've had to learn strategies to stay in the present but sometimes they just don't work. Laughing, feeling confident in something, or being stressed out seem to be the ladder that gets me out. It's interesting to see how much it affects me. For example, I can see a difference just by looking at the different writing styles in my last posts. It's almost like two different people.. and it scares me. 

It's a different fight than the battles between my wolves. Usually, I abandon them when it happens, leaving them home alone. I'm not sure if they even know. But sometimes, dark wolf comforts me when I can breathe my own breath again. He reminds me that I am not normal, that normal people don't have to go through this, and that I may be never be normal. 

Disassociating is like a strong, uncontrollable current with a motive to protect. It's powerful force is like a magnet that pulls me away. My brain still has yet to fully realize that I am safe and that this natural instinct doesn't belong in the normal world. Unfortunately, it didn't get left behind with the violence and the drugs and the hos and the pimps.

One day, I hope I will feel safe enough to stay here.

                                 

Dark Wolf's Day

Today, there was no battle. I didn't fight. I spent the day with my dark wolf. We missed each other. He stroked my hair and gave me apathy. I made it from my bed to the couch and actually got up around 4 in the afternoon. No textbook was opened. I hardly thought about homework. I laid there and watched the snow, jealous of its passion. 

He's still here, not wanting to leave. He's in the silence of my room. My loneliness nourishes him. I have to be careful not to feed him too much. He's been my friend, my comfort for so long.. before the drinking and the drugs. I could never starve him. Sometimes, I just have to pet him and acknowledge that he's there. He's a part of me. My self-pity, my arrogance, regret.. is all a part of me. Today, was dark wolf's day.

Purple Injection

My dreams are getting more intense. Last night, I dreamt about my mother and my sister. I don't remember much of the details. We were all shooting dope from an IV bag full of a purple liquid. My sister said she was done and quickly sobered up. The rest of our family was on the other side of the door, waiting for us to come out. But my mom wanted one more shot. We tried to take the bag and needle from her but she fought us. Her eyes were wild and she resembled someone I didn't know. We were terrified. She started stabbing me with the needle, trying to find a vain but they were no good. My arm was full of holes and ugly markings. She found a large vain on my wrist and I begged her not to shoot me there. She did it anyway and went too deep. I held my arm in pain as it poured blood. Then she did herself so quickly we didn't see it happen. The next thing we saw was her lying on the ground with foam coming out of her mouth. The purple bag was still attached. We argued and blamed each other. She started convulsing. Everything is hazy after that.

Somewhere in the night, I had another dream. I was searching for one of my old roommates. He became a big time drug dealer and rapper. Somehow, I got to his huge house where everyone was out back. The layout was amazing. It was a huge pool with stones to walk and sit on placed in random parts of the water. There had to have been at least 150 people there. I felt out of place and couldn't get his attention. I spent most of the dream trying to talk to him. I still don't know why I was there. 

I hope these dreams stop soon.