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.

Finding My Reflection in the Bedroom Floor

Today, I had coffee with a guy I dated for a total of.. 5 days? The day I met him, I was up for 3-no, 4 nights. We talked online for hours, long enough for me to find the dysfunction and chase it down. Sleep wasn't going to come soon and the indentation of reality was about to start pressing in. I wasn't ready for it. I pulled out my recently worn short dress. It covered both ass cheeks and then stopped. I took out my black wedges. They still felt warm. I pounded on the makeup, trying to cover up my mistakes with foundation and eyeliner. For a moment, it worked. My eyelids were heavy, weighted from too much eye shadow and not enough sleep but still, I wasn't ready to stop. I thought I looked great. There were no nerves, only exhaustion and desperation for the next taste of better. He picked me up and we went to my usual bar with the usual people where I had my usual drink. Just like the others, I asked, "Have you ever drank with an Indian?" He looked at me, almost scared and shook his head. I told him to take out his wallet. We talked and talked and talked about nothing. Mostly, I drank and drank and drank and drank. He seemed impressed. I told him this was normal. He sat on the uncomfortable stool, waiting for a good time. I sat on the same stool I always sat on, reaching for recklessness. I wonder when he found out. We went back to my place and sat at the table. I opened the bottle that I urged him to buy before he even picked me up. We sat at that table for.. hours? The familiar black I hoped for was finally rolling in. We talked more.. or.. I talked.. about absolutely nothing. But mostly, I drank. I looked down and led him to my bedroom, knowing it was time to pay for my drinks. I wished my blackout would spread farther for this next act. It did, for the most part. Until this point, I thought tonight was like any other drunken night.. but it wasn't. For whatever reason, I stopped everything and sat on the floor. The next moment is hard to describe. Something so powerful broke through my drunken, meth-induced, sleep deprived state and even made its way to the present. More than that, I can still feel it. I wondered how I got on the floor but then I realized I had been in a black out. I was having the all too familiar feeling of "coming to". I was half-naked and holding a cigarette near my window. I started talking and this time, it wasn't about nothing. It was something I didn't recognize. It was me. It was as if all of my decisions surrounded me..  powerful enough to draw me back into consciousness. I realized there was no higher and no drunker than this moment and it terrified me. I told him that he didn't want me and that I was sorry. I told him I had been up for days. The words, "I'm a mess, I'm a mess, I'm a mess" kept pouring out. No other words felt more right. He just sat there and stroked my face.. telling me to look at him, not understanding what was going on. His eyes burned intensely and I found them comforting. The same eyes looked at me today but they were different. They were only a reminder of my mistakes. I kept moving his hand, not wanting this stranger to touch me. After that, my blackout blanket tucked me in and kissed me goodnight. The next day, he reminded me of everything but he really didn't have to. I already knew what happened even without the memory to tell me. Blackouts have always just been more convenient. I didn't care to piece together the minutes where I wasn't there-I preferred not to. I wanted to know what happened in my lucidity. Today, I figured it out. For a brief moment, sitting on my bedroom floor with a man I barely knew.. I found my reflection.

Today was not about having coffee with a guy I hardly dated. Today, I was reminded of where I've been and the mess I don't have to be anymore.

Chandeliers

Last night, I dreamt about my ex-boyfriend and his mother. Her and I were in a huge, beautiful fancy house. The air was thick. It was heavy like swamp mud but I didn't say anything. A party was going on somewhere in the house but I was led to a different room. It was a room with extravagant furniture and chandeliers that took up half the ceiling. They were so mesmerizing and intricate that I can still see them. This time, the focus of the dream was on my ex. He died and we were trying to contact his spirit to figure out what happened. He knocked on tables and shook the majestic chandeliers. I kept wanting to leave but when I tried, I was snapped back like a rubber band. We coaxed and begged him to try to speak for what seemed like hours. He only said one thing. Right when I was about to leave, I felt him grab my arm and whisper, "I love you". Just as I heard the words, the rubber band tying me there snapped. And instantly, the room became weightless.. as if it always had been. I woke up heartbroken.

Today, has been another good day. Today, I am grateful I don't want to use. Today, I don't want to make sense of my dreams. 

Rescuing Freedom

Two nights ago I dreamt again. I didn't want to talk about it but the confusion and awful feelings from it are still lingering. I was starting school at a new college, feeling excited and ready for something new. I even made a friend right away. She was pretty with blonde hair and a thin figure. I couldn't stop smiling. I could breathe. As soon as weightlessness wrapped around me, the room became dark and an older white man entered. He hardly spoke but his eyes told me something. They said, "you know why I'm here. You know what you have to do". Immediately, I understood. My fleeting moment of freedom was just that-fleeting and now, unrecognizable. I didn't bother to reach for it. Instead, I looked down as if I had expected this. He tortured my new friend and made me help. I cried and apologized to the girl the whole time. I told her I didn't want to do it and hoped we could still be friends. This went on until he was finished.. the guilt I felt was so powerful that I think it woke me up. I questioned my mental stability for most of that morning.. wondering what kind of person dreams such horrible things. More than that, I questioned why I didn't fight. 

Too often, I still question why I didn't fight. 

White Wolf's Victory

Today, my good wolf sat beside me. He rested on my shoulder and whispered in me ear. He was behind every easy smile and belly laugh. He slowly moved into my spirit until it became him. He fought with the men and memories that live right behind my eyelids and was humble enough not to tell me about. He shielded me from my doubts. Today, I was hopeful.. and I loved it.

If I listen closely, I can still hear the slow pace of his heartbeat. In this moment - I know I am safe.

Nighttime Visitors

It's almost midnight. I will have 29 days sober.. and I feel every second of it. Today I got so stressed that I felt a bruising sensation in my right arm as if the needle went too deep. I had to remind myself - it's been 28 days. It's almost time for my nighttime visitors. My body's shaking just thinking about it. Brief images of violence and force swarm through my mind. It's so rapid that I couldn't tell you any names or even what I was wearing. I get so tired of this shit. Every night when I feel the warmth of my covers and when darkness helps my eyelids shut - I'm reminded of everything. It never skips a night.. not. one. night. Memories of all the drinks I chugged like it was my only salvation and needles pressing against my skin soon follow. The very shit I tried to escape comes with a vengeance when I am alone and it's too late to call anyone. It hits when there's no more distractions and all my homework is done; when there's nothing left to do but lay there debilitated. I just have to wait for it to pass and wish for a night with no dreams. This is my fifth, no sixth, I don't know - let's just sixth attempt at getting sober. Each time brings a new gift with it - this one is nightmares. I'm not used to dreaming. You don't dream when you've been up for four days. And you don't dream when you're passed out from drinking. In case anyone was wondering. But last night, I dreamt. I dreamt of my mother. I turned around to see a gun pressed to her head. Someone I don't know shot her but flashes of me pulling the trigger soon took his place. I tried to wake everyone up in the unfamiliar house to tell them she died but none of them cared to wake up. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to make the funeral arrangements. I waited for someone to come help me but no one showed up. My sister went back to sleep. I woke up with a deep gasp and a sore feeling in my throat as if I had been screaming. It was the familiar feeling of having hands placed tightly around my neck. I listened quietly for my sister to make sure I was safe. I was. I went back to sleep hesitating another dream. This time my ex was the theme - the one I refuse to think about. He was holding up a picture of him and his new girlfriend and screaming in my face. I couldn't make out what he said. I tried to move away but his body kept forcing itself towards me like a strong magnet. I got away, ran and woke up. Tonight, I don't want to sleep.

Tale of Two Wolves

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.

“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”