Shreddies and Sunflower Seeds

FINALLY, last night I managed to get into the shower and totally defuzz myself and shampoo my scalp until it throbbed, as if thanking me. It felt absolutely wonderful having the super-hot water run through my hair and my entire body. I used a hard brush to really get clean and get my circulation going all through my body, from my head to my toes. I felt reborn and in a great mood since I had talked to my little boy earlier that day.

So I got out of the shower and found that my undies and nightie barely fit me and when I glanced at myself in the mirror, I almost didn't recognize myself--I've really gained a lot of weight. I need to cut down on the milk and become more active. I'm sure I'll look better once I get my hair done but still.......

Oh, vanity--where has it gotten me anyways? I'm not with my son and that to me is the most important thing EVER!!!! I still have a few weeks to get my dieting going. I mean, I'm by no means fat but I can feel my thighs rubbing together when I walk and my legs are super-skinny (or were for that matter). I seriously have no control over my Shreddies and sunflower seed intake. And it certainly shows.

The last few days I've been reading other blogs and boy, do us addicts ever have a lot in common. Holy. I am determined to avoid all other drugs but what "normal, non-addicted" people don't realize is that there's always that devil on your shoulder telling you to try it "one more time", to "reward" yourself for doing so well, to "prove" to yourself that it wasn't that fabulous after all. All sorts of rationalizations to convince yourself to get into another state of mind. Luckily, I try and focus on the headaches I used to get from the coke, the bitterness that used to drip down my throat, and the waste of money that could have gone to better things. I don't think I should go off of the Clonazepam because even if the effect is a placebo, it seems to help me overcome the cravings. My opiate cravings are nil, still by the way, thank God.

I am going to my sister's this Saturday to spend the night since my mom is having a dinner party. The last thing I want to do is be with my mom and a bunch of her judgemental friends brag about their "overachieving" children and there's me, little pathetic old me. I'll get a chance to spend some time with my niece whom I adore but I will need to get back ASAP because something always goes wrong there and I end up being the scapegoat. I mean my nephew ends up stealing my fake ponytail hairpiece (an expensive, Rachel Welch one, no less) and a beautiful black leather ring from Israel and I get called "paranoid" of all things. The last time I was there he erased ten hour's worth of writing on the computer and I get called incompetent PLUS the kid threatens to shoot me as soon as he ca get his hands on a gun (he's 14 so I'd better stear clear!). Also, there's always tension and fights there and whenever I make suggestions like"uh, there's no food or milk should we go to the supermarket", my sister accuses me of being selfish and immature because I never "catch on"" that her and her husband are having "problems". First of all, I'm not psychic and secondly, there's still no fucking food in the house! And besides that, they're ALWAYS fighting anyways, so what else is fucking new? Sheesh. It's like being a kid all over again, except there's nothing to eat!

I think I'll go and have another bowl of Shreddies and from now on, NO MORE SHREDDIES!!!! I seriously look pregnant.

Cinderella

I have been having a TERRIBLE time with my moods and haven't felt like writing at all but I must force myself because I know that it makes me feel much better. I'm just so confused about my future and scared about what the outcome will be. I need some sort of indication that something positive will happen because right now I feel STUCK and helpless, the way I always have and it's getting old,VERY old.

I've decided to do some research into clothing and design and fabrics so that should keep my brain entertained and off of other things that bring me down. I'm just so angry and so afraid of having the whole situation with my solely on my shoulders, no one wants to help, no one gives a shit. Meanwhile, I'm dying a little more each day. I try to keep my strength up and I scared that I'm running out of stength.

I've been talking to "D" these last few weeks. The bond I feel between us is amazing but we're taking it slow right now--the last thing I need is another hassle in my life, another fucking mistake to bring me down even further in my already pathetic life.

I am looking forward to my "make-over" at the end of the month. I'm starting to do some defuzzing today because, I've really allowed myself to become wolf-like! I want to start feeling like a woman again, attractive and feminine, soft. My sister has also promised to sell me the top-of-the-line straightening iron called the Sedu because she's getting a newer version. It's funny, actually pathetic, that the last curling iron I had I traded it for a flap of coke, and junky coke at that.

My nephew is over right now and for me, I cannot stress how therapeutic it is to be with children and animals when one is going through a hard time. I've even heard in The States there's a jail where they give hardened criminals puppies to nurse back to health and this gives them a chance to bond and to be able to feel empathy which does wonders for their mental health. I think that it's a brilliant idea towards rehabilitation and it was miraculous to see murderers fight to keep back their tears when the animals are sent back again.

My sister brought me back some heavy-duty razors so I'm really looking forward to deep, comfortable stubble-free sleep. I have also made a dentist's appointment at the end of the month, hopefully my teeth are salvageable. At least they're still there!

Mom is Just a Three Letter Word

First time since I've been on methadone that I woke up at 4am with the worst migraine in the world!!! Had an awful fight with my mother yesterday over the most idiotic thing: she was talking to this lady on the phone that she had bumped into church the day before and the lady began pumping her for information about my sisters and I (as most Greek woman do or perhaps all, I really don't know). So, Mother gets off the phone and informs me that I need to get a job right away and how this lady's son was interested in me before I got married and how I didn't "go for it" and how embarassed she when people bring me up, etc. Well, call me weak, call me what you want but my self-esteem shattered right before my very eyes!! How awful for me to have to endure this woman's attitude. She doesn't care about anything but her "image" and how I've spoiled it for her. Oh well, that's fucking tough and not my problem. I told her not to take her insecurities out on me and I went even further and advised her to make up an occupation for me. Tell her friends that I'm a nurse or something, they'll never know and it would take the pressure off of her. I've totally lost respect for her. Isn't a mother suppossed to protect their children at all costs???!!! It's really hard for me to go back now. My trust in her is nil. Yes, she did help me this winter but what good is that? I've had to walk on eggshells the entire time. And this woman has got heaps and heaps of hostility inside of her. How can I not let it get to me?

Shine

Spoke with my best friend first thing in the morning and I must say, the girl is a gem. I would be EMPTY without her support, the girl has been so good to me, even when I have gone through periods of just wanting to be alone. Let's just say that she doesn't make me feel like a freak, the way my mom or other people do and I really need that or I would not be able to go through this process. I just wish I could make her understand about my issues surrounding employment and my need to express myself through creative avenues. I just cannot stand "normal" jobs. I feel like I will surely go crazy if I ever get one again. I would much rather be on disability FOREVER and live in a dive. It drives me crazy when I go to Shopper's or wherever and they ask me for additional information, it's so repetitive. I mean I worked at the Bay once too and I had to try to convince people to sign up for credit cards and ask them for their "points" cards and all that kind of fucking bullshit that drains the creativity from one's brains. It's simply companies desperately attempting to make even more money from their customers while they should instead concentrate on hiring bright people instead of dimwits who don't have a clue about customer service or company culture. They just want "parrots" and "sheep" who can become their slaves/robots, to erase everyone's personality and individuality. They even fucking tell you how to style your hair!!!! I have never experienced dealing with so many clueless people which made me wonder how they are able to feed themselves on a daily basis. No wonder there is so much fraud going on in companies, I can't imagine these fools who run companies or own businesses making money the right way: great customer service, treating their employees properly, and actually being blessed with a teeny bit of business acumen or perhaps reading up on it or observing and learning from others. Too much ego and too little brains. It just makes me want to branch out on my own even more and the less people I have to deal with, the better because I really want to deal with those I can learn something from. That's what it is: I need to be constantly learning and my brain needs constant stimulation. Hopefully, I can entertain others with my writing or I can make them feel better if they are going through the same things that I am.

I set up my anti-virus up today (yes, I consider that an accomplishment since I am still kind of intimidated by computers) and I am still struggling with getting my facebook set up so that I can send my little guy messages every day instead of stalking him through the phone.

It's a beautiful Sunday afternoon but I refuse to go out in public until I am presentable. This may sound silly to most but looking good is part of my identity, not a huge one any more but it still provides me with a sort of armor to deal with the world. If I can only get my intellectual abilities organized then there is nothing that can stop me!!!! I really think that I can do it.

I think back to when I was 19 and I didn't want to face myself and what I needed to do for my future and it was just easier to get all dolled up and go drinking and dancing with my girls. Male attention was all I needed to feel whole and the fact that time was on my side kept me patient to a certain degree. But whenever the question of what I would like to do came creeping up into my brain, I would pop a pill and all doubts and insecurities would go away and turning on the TV and opening up a freshly purchased magazine or book would placate me and I would escape into my own little world where nothing mattered. Mom could rant and rave for hours on end, insulting me and damning the day that I was born but I couldn't hear her over the sounds of blissful waves the pills provided me with. It was a viscious cycle which included codeine, sleeping pills, anti-anxiety wafers put under the tongue for maximum and lightning-quick absorption. I lost my sex drive so going out and flirting didn't excite me in the least and frankly, I found the bar scene rather boring. My friends worried about me, worried that I would look back and not have enough memories of being young but I much prefered the warm blanket the opiates wrapped me in, reaasuring me that everything with the world was well.

Sometimes, I would make an honest effort to quit but dope sickness is not for the meek. It would begin with terrible aches throughout my legs and then the dull pain would travel throughout all of my joints. But before I could diagnose myself as having arthritis, I would stay up all night kicking (hence the phrase "kicking the habit") and drenched in sweat, I already knew it was too late and that I would need to get to a drugstore fast. A handful of over the counter codeine tablets mixed with gravol would certainly bring back to normal. When I would feel that oh so subtle warmth pass throughout my entire body, I knew that I would be set for the next four or five hours.

Going to the doctor was an event for me. I treated going to walk-in clinics the way others would treat going on a picnic. Exciting but tiring. It was an all day event and it knocked the wind out of me because for one, I'm a shitty actress and secondly, I have a conscience. I was so excited to what I would be prescribed. Tylenol#3's were the easiest to get but good stuff like Valium needed more of a production: I needed to come up with a story to validate "extreme anxiety and nightmares" and to also draw out sympathy from the doctor. I felt so much shame when I once told a doctor that I was sexually assaulted, I definitely did not treat these little ventures as something to be proud of but I knew that Valium mixed with a bit of alcohol would turn me into the life of the party that night or I'd even screw the going out and just float through life for the next few days. Many times I would feel like I couldn't breathe until I got those pills down my throat. I felt helpless, I felt ashamed, I felt invigorated, my need for more insatiable. So many emotions at once with the goal being to erase every single one of them. Feeling was for wimps, not for cool girls like me. Sure, I was fucked up but who wasn't? I'd figure it out, I had time.

So what did I learn through desentizing myself all these years that I can pass on to others? Trust me, I am not the ultimate authority on recovery but I think that we can all learn things from each other. What I have learned is to find a passion, something that will get those" feel-good" chemicals in your brain moving so that you won't need to go elsewhere for a "fix". For the most part I believe that those of us who abuse drugs have some sort of emotional issues left over from childhood so getting into some sort of counselling would benefit. I know that it has done wonders for me. The first time I told a counsellor how I felt and felt a flicker of empathy in her eyes and the way she nodded her head to indicate understanding, my whole life changed. It was as if a miracle had occured right before my very eyes! Before that I had always felt like a freak but if you take a chance and share your insecurities with a trained professional, great things can happen to your life. For those who need to socialize more and want to stay away from people who are "using" joining an AA or NA group and grabbing yourself a sponsor is a suggestion. Many friendships have been forged this way and getting together with people who share common goals is beneficial . Also, the more sober time you have, the more you can extend your helping hand to others which is very self confidence boosting. A little less "me,me,me" can do wonders for the soul.

Personally, I just want to keep on writing, branch out into other areas of writing, and just keep myself barricaded in my room for awhile. I've never been much of a follower, to my detriment at times, but I really need this time to become strong and to become the person and mom, and friend, and sister that I have always wanted to be. Everyone's recovery is different but as human beings we all want and need to SHINE........................................

Birds, Children, and Patios

Lovely to wake up to the birds chirping, HEAVEN!!!!! Yesterday I went to see my methadone doc and I am not going to see her as much because I'm right on track: I'll be going to the pharmacy once a week to obtain my juice for the week, seeing a counsellor at least a few times a month, and staying clean and creative. I envision myself on a patio somewhere writing, with the sun hugging me and keeping my creativity flowing, in a way that only the sun can do. I'm so excited about summer, maybe, just maybe I can really make things happen this time.

My goals this weekend are easy: I want to send my son the Easter things that I bought for him, get a facebook account started so that I can write to him every day, and to begin writing about my experiences at the strip club where I worked last year. Something with a little bit more humor than my blog--how humorous can writing about staying clean really be?! I am also thinking about starting another blog or perhaps an ebay project that relates to fashion and beauty and all of that shallow stuff that makes being a girl SO MUCH FUN!!! I also wouldn't mind recruiting my sisters as models to put my make-up skills to use--God, that would be so much fun. ANTYHING is possible with methadone, an imagination just ITCHING to express itself, and a computer. I also have to remember to spend some time grooming this weekend. I'm beginning to look like Sasquatch's kid sister (or brother!). It'll be refreshing to go out in public again and having the guys give me the "once-over". Putting vanity aside has been interesting but the last thing you want to think about while recovering and attempting to strengthen your mental and physical self is vanity.

I love writing with my bedroom window open, hearing the children laugh and squeal and splash around in their little pools. How I wish I could fall and bang my head on a corner REAL HARD and wake up and be seven years old again (problems=0). Even better what about twelve or thirteen when everything is so new and exciting and the world is such a fascinating place!! Oh, what I wouldn't give to go with my friends to 7-11 and be whistled at by the boys that you will be going to high school with in the Fall? Who on Earth would have guessed that those same boys would become your admirers and that you would end up having a relationship with one of them that would last for years? Oh my I get butterflies in my stomach thinking about the mysteries of teenagehood, of high school. Where the hell are those mysteries now? Are there any to figure out, to explore? Dear readers, I will keep you posted, if you keep me posted on yours. One thing I have figured out though: I NEVER want to get "old" and by that I mean I never want to stop creating, I never want to become bored of life. I consider myself super-lucky because through my writing I can keep my life fresh by writing about others' lives, by becoming any character I want to be, and by exploring. It's going to be an interesting summer, I have this feeling.....................

Choose Life

Woke up from the deepest slumber, it's like I gave up on life yesterday and fell into my bed for salvation. But did I wake up any better? No, I woke up crying with my stupid hair all matted. I can't STAND looking at myself in the mirror but then in the midst of my nervous breakdown, I can't help but giggle because things cannot get any worse. I just have to give my head a shake, keep writing, keep developing my relationship with my son, and something should come up in terms of creative development and cash. And I'm also FED UP with the way I've allowed myself to become physically. I mean, it's easily fixable because I think I've got the raw goods some where there but I shouldn't take it for granted as my ponytail is becoming thinner and coarser by the day. If I allow my neglect to go on, surely I'll end up with a bald spot at the back of my head. If my hair could talk it would scream for me to slather loads of deep conditioner and hot olive oil on it. I LOVE the way my scalps feels all healthy and tingly whenever I give it one of my "treatments" and the same goes for my skin, which I've forgotten about too. If I were ever trapped on a desert island at least now I know what I would look like and it's bad, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I'm actually looking forward to the day where my hair is blond and healthy (or at least gives the impression of being through a good blow-out) and I start wearing some make-up. I have missed my "glamorous" self but in the midst of avoiding all mirrors, toothbrushes, and hairdressers, I have found myself through my writing and this has given me hope and strength. Perhaps, it's my turn to shine, I know I keep saying this and what does it really mean? I mean, as "God's children" aren't we all special in our own way, what is it that we must prove to ourselves and to others in order to be accepted by society and our own families?


Because I am not popping pills to ease or optimally to erase my insecurities these questions keep coming up, questions that I have no answers to. But do I? I mean, if I think about it for a second, I am happiest when I am writing (besides being with my son which goes without saying, obviously) and to be able to make a living out of this would be sheer heaven. And I don't mean only the blog. I have ideas for many other avenues. Perhaps that is what those of us who are in recovery need, a replacement for the pill, powder, needle,etc. We need something productive and resourceful to get the brain chemicals up there moving and filling our hearts with joy, healthy joy that leads to having a productive life, not the type that leads to going insane or dying. Oh, the fine line. When will I ever figure it out?

Show Me the Money

Got up early and mom drove me to the drugstore to gulp down my methadone. It's so gorgeous out today but I still insist on hibernating because I feel like an ugly, fat mess. Sort of pathetic insulting myself this way but oh well, that's precisely how I view myself. Tomorrow I have an appointment to see my methadone doctor and I'm really looking forward to it because she makes me feel so motivated and her positive thinking really rubs off on me. When I relay my concerns to her she makes me feel normal, not like some sort of freak. Of course I'm going to be scared (actually terrified is a better word) about my future. My nightmare is to be stuck doing yet another "joe job", stuck and positively dreading to wake up in the morning. But who says I have to? My best friend doesn't understand me and she seems to think that I'm acting like a spoiled brat but only I know what I want or don't want. I just don't know how some people do it. My friend, for example, has been working at the deli department at Safeway for decades and I'm assuming that's where she's planning on staying until she retires. I guess she thinks that I am insulting her because I want something more in my life. I'm fucking done trying to please other people, DONE. I have to figure out my own path or else there's no way I can continue living without drugs.

I think that I am going to start on my other writing project today. How exciting! I mean, I have a lot of free time on my hands and man, do I ever enjoy expressing myself on paper. I so want to be able to connect with others through this medium and at the very least people can enjoy reading my stuff. My dream would be to actually help people who have gone through similar things.

I don't know if it's the anemia or if I'm lazy or perhaps a touch depressed but even showering is a major chore for me these days. My hair is matted and the only way I can wear it is in a ponytail. I avoid taking the elastic out because every time I do another chunk falls off. I also haven't brushed my teeth in awhile and my gums bleed when I do, surely a sign of poor dental hygeine. In a way, I'm rebelling against beauty and the rituals associated with it. You could say I was a slave to them before but I actually enjoyed taking care of myself and then it got to the point of "fuck it, being attractive got me nowhere in life except noticed by the opposite sex so now I don't even want to look in the mirror, so there!" Silly, as personal grooming and hygeine are important but I tend to do things in extremes. Perhaps getting my hair done at the end of the month will motivate me more because I am starting to get the itch to be with people. What I want more than anything, however is to start making money by making the most of my talents and the gifts God has given me. See, this is when things begin to get "sticky". I will attempt to do everything possible to better myself but what if something goes wrong, then what? That's where the true test lies of whether I will go back to drugs again. Truthfully, I am so angry and confused and I just want and need a helping hand. I am sick of waiting for something good to happen in my life, to discover a path where I can be an independent woman and be able to support my son, and to be proud of myself. I just don't think I can handle any more hurt and disapointments. I am so very exhausted and I don't even have the energy to cry any more. If so many shitty things have happened and I've taken full responsibility then why can't one good thing happen where I am just blown away? That's precisely what I need in order to keep going on the right track.

For sure I have many things to be grateful for but why is it cosidered ungrateful and greedy to admit that life has let you down and that it just SUCKS to be me? I'm tired of being patient and waiting for something good to happen. Then why don't I go and get it, you ask? I'm trying, first of all and secondly, why is everyone so scared of admitting that being broke is like virtually not existing but wait of course I'm alive if I wasn't then I wouldn't feel so lost and helpless. Oh, dear God help me find my way PLEASE. I am so tired.

Just Breathe

Woke up way too late which caused me a bit of anxiety, the "you're useless and lazy, and you'll never amount to anything" sort of stress. Luckily, my two nephews came over and I spent the next few hours chasing them around and pinching their chubby bums and giving them lots of kisses which made them squeal in disgust but I just didn't care--they're so irresistable! I talked to my little boy today and he was in the mood for a nice chat so that was sooooo great since I had spent the day before crying from missing him so much. I also talked to his father because I figure that I have to stay on good terms with him because my plan is to eventually get both of them back here.

I spent the rest of the day on the computer catching up on new clothing and make-up trends since I have allowed my interest in all things beauty fall by the wayside. It's a little pathetic, if you ask me, I can't even go anywhere I'm such a bloody mess. I feel like Cinderella stuck in this room planning my future and only a mini make-over away from going out and finding Prince Charming! Oh, how fun the fantasies of youth but a small part of me refuses to grow up fully. Remaining youthful and fresh and producing new ideas is what makes life and I refuse to become old and bitter and tired through life's trials and tribulations. It's just too easy to give up sometimes.

Bedtime is my favorite part of the day because I sleep so soundly and deeply now. I also feel hopeful for the future and I am giving myself lots of time to become strong and healthy once again. I want to build on that strength when it finally becomes reality and not deny my creative forces and turn to self-destructive behaviours again.

Mom tried to zero in on me today and guilt trip me for not being a success and all that other stuff that she expected from me but I took a deep breath and did not retaliate. I have learned that the things you keep to yourself, cutting others slack is what makes us stronger: not buying into the bullshit of others, just smiling and keep moving along, letting them stew in their own juices.

Not having to go to work each day is such a relief for me. I've had to put up with the most immature of personalities, I've had to nod my head in agreement to the most asinine of comments from managers with shit for brains, and I've had to endure the pettiness of female jealousy run amok. I have yet to work somewhere where people are supportive and helpful to one another. I refused each time to stoop down to their level and these experiences taught me the value of becoming my own boss. There's no way I can work with or "below" any more twits.

I would love to work either on my own or with like-minded people who are mature enough to realize their strengths and weaknesses in themselves and others. Some day I would love to write a book about my experiences at work. I've worked at Greek restaurants, I've taught English overseas, I've worked at cosmetics counters, at high-end fashion boutiques, and low-end strip clubs. It has been enlightening, exhausting, and really bad on the nerves but boy, what a great education on the nature of human beings.

Me, Myself, and I

I woke up later than usual today really missing my little man but I couldn't get a hold of him because he is always out playing with his friends. Children in Greece practically live outside in warm weather, breaking only to go home for a meal. I don't have to worry, though because the little town where he lives is safe and everyone in the neighbourhood watches out for one another. His grandparents watch out for him too so that eases my mind because as a mother I cannot stop the worrying. I just hope he's not exposed to his father's antics, those very antics I protected him from for a good seven years.

It's a beautiful Spring day but I can't see myself venturing out because I look like crap and my period is on full force. Eventually, I would love to take my laptop and head out to the neighbourhood Starbucks but I am not ready yet. I've decided to also start writing about my experiences at the strip club because even though I was high most of the time, I perceived my time there as sort of investigative journalism. Having been raised in an area in the city where pretty much everyone was well off, I'd always wondered how the other half lived. I always thought that the tough, gangster type boys would be a lot more passionate and exciting than the polite, vanilla type ones that I had gone to high school with. But exciting, my ass. It seemed that everyone in that damn club was on drugs, and we're not talking pot, we're talking cocaine and oxycontin mixed with lots and lots of alcohol. Also, it seemed that everyone swore endlessly and talked about sex incessantly. Holy crap, my face was always red with embarassment as I would get fed information that I deemed unecessary and deeply personal. Who on earth would admit to being in a porn movie at the age of sixteen in detail?

I feel lazy today and guilty because all's I want to do is lie around, watch TV and feel sorry for myself. But what good would that do? People around me don't understand that I am happiest at home, reading, writing, and enjoying the pleasure of my own company. When I start to get lonely, there's always the phone. I just feel that I haven't grown a thick enough skin to venture out yet but when I do, watch out! I will be wholly prepared to take the world by storm! It's not like I'm asking for anything totally unrealistic, I just want to be able to make a living through writing and to be with my little boy. Writing brings me such joy in my life and the thought of making a career out of beyond excites me.

On Thursday I have an appointment with my doctor at the methadone clinic and I am looking forward to telling her how I've started writing. I don't think I would have been able to do this without her encouragement. Actually, I am so grateful to everyone who has come through for me this winter: my sisters, my mom, my best friend. When I was working at the club, I almost got kicked out because even during my non-working hours I would get tons of calls, prompting the gossips (including the owners) to come to the conclusion that I was dealing drugs. They even thought I had the pizza guy on my payroll as I would order pizza every night. But where are those people who used to call me now? It's funny that, at least in my case, the very people who almost destroyed me, came through for me at the end: my family. Especially my mom. Who knows where I would have ended up? And for this I will be forever grateful.

I often question if it's me who has changed or my mom. I am definitely a lot less combative now whereas before I was hypersensitive and raw to anything and everything my family used to say. I really don't know exactly what it is but I feel more at peace with myself. Being closer to my niece and nephews has greatly improved my life as well and they have also served as a source of therapy since my son is not with me right now. How can someone feel down when there's a little creature staring up at you smiling with their arms outstretched, expecting nothing but love?

Easter Sunday

Stayed home as usual today. Besides the fact that I am still recuperating, I feel so fat and unkempt and am pretty much in hiding. It seems strange that less than a year ago I had a job that depended mainly on my physical appearance. You see, my mother was raised in a village in Greece, poverty-stricken and the only way out was to be born into a family that owned acres and acres of cotton fields or to be a winner of the genetic lottery and be able to snag a wealthy man through your beauty.

Before she began placing such a huge emphasis on my looks, I concentrated on school a lot but nothing compared to the rush I got from my mother finally paying attention to me (as everyone else did for that matter) at the age of fourteen. That kind of attention can screw anyone up because even though I played it up and made the most of my looks, down deep inside I felt like the biggest phoney ever. But oh to be told how pretty you are and to have people stare at you or sneer at you, depending on the sex of the person. This both gave me a sort of balance and sanity but destroyed my self-worth at the same time. And man, did I ever overstay my welcome (Vaseline has done wonders for my skin!) but I didn't know how to acquire personal power in any other way.

This is the first time in my 42 years that I am not concentrating on my appearance but that's not to say that I am not looking forward to the little make-over I have planned for myself later on this month, complete with lightening my hair and cleaning my teeth professionally. But alas, I am giving the inner me the chance to show itself, and hopefully to shine brighter than ever by using my intelligence. I feel that I have so much to give to myself and others and what a pity that I allowed myself to be objectified in such horrible ways, as subtle as they may have been there are so many chips in my soul as a result. I am a human being dammit, don't I fucking deserve to be respected and cherished? No wonder I ended up on a stage holding on to a pole for dear life, too drunk and high to realize the severity of the damage this could have caused me in the long run. I deserve happiness, I deserve to live my life with dignity. I deserve to hold my son in my arms once again and revel in the true joy of it. No one will ever be able to put me down again and be able to make me question my self-worth ever, ever again. I can see right through them now and I will never trust like a child ever again.

My Son, My Life

I truly feel like my whole life has changed ever since I started writing this blog. Even my sleep has gotten less restless and my dreams are alot less dark and confusing. I also have been waking up without that terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and that horrible tension band around my head which makes me feel like my brains are about to explode. I have come to the conclusion that I deserve happiness as much as the next person and I also have the right to live my life the way that I see fit. Writing this blog has completely changed my perspective on things and the "poor me" attitude has vanished. Why can't I write for a living? My worst fear has always been to be "forced" to do a job that I detest until retirement, just like I observed my parents do. To me, that is not living. Of course, I am not so naive that I would ignore the need for a Plan B, something that I can do until the writing thing comes through. Getting punched in the stomach endless times throughout my life has taught me to take nothing for granted.


It's been such a long since I have felt excited about the future. What if this writing thing does go through? What if I am able to become financially independent and in total and complete charge of my life? I would love to be able to provide my son (who is presently living in Greece with his father--more on that later) with a stress-free life and give him whatever he desires. Most importantly, I want to raise my son on my own terms. Being away from him almost destroyed me and I never thought that I would ever come to the point where I didn't see living as a huge burden. Also, it would be fabulous to gain the respect of my family and peers and to leave my "mark" in this world. This feeling that I have feels almost too good to be true, but after so many years of feeling downright crappy I think that I deserve a little bit of optimism in my heart. If I am able to help people through my writing that would be a huge bonus. There would be nothing as gratifying as knowing that I have helped someone beat this terrible thing called addiction. Noone understands the strenuous and constant ups and downs that accompany this affliction but another fellow addict. It would be my pleasure to help somehow and if I am able to accomplish this through my writing, then even better.


Today is Good Friday and I woke up late, to rainy and windy weather. Fortunately, I absolutely ADORE this kind of weather, as long as it doesn't appear often. I find it inspiring and romantic and it appeals to the dreamy side of me. Weather like this makes me want to crawl into my bed, under my fluffy comforter and read and watch TV all day. It makes me want to dream, dream, dream. I am finishing reading the harcover "House of Versace" after indulging in the April issue of Harper's Bazaar. I have consumed three bowls of Shreddies sprinkled with lots of sugar and munching on sunflower seeds in between. If I wasn't so vain, I would surely have been obese, for I view food as immensely pleasureable and can certainly understand why for many people it ends up becoming an enormous problem. I mean nothing is better, especially when you're down than a spongy, chocolately cupcake with a creamy topping. Yum.


Another Easter spent without my little guy. Oh how I suffer but the way things are going for me right now, I feel hopeful. I am suffering from a slight case of agoraphobia at the moment and actually seeing mothers out with their children has the potential of sending me into quite the crying fit but I must be strong. Nothing can ever make up for the last few years of being without my little boy, but I am sure that we will be together soon. For now, the telephone must suffice and the little gifts that I send him. I am also thinking about setting up a facebook account and only having him as a "friend" (I am not really a fan of the facebook community but I'm not exactly against it either) but I'm scared that I'll end up fighting with his friends if they write anything negative to him. Relax, honey, these are only ten year olds! The last time I saw my son was two years ago when I went to Greece and witnessed him bang his little head against a table because he got in the middle of a scrap with his grandparents and his drunken father. I packed up all of our things and took off to Athens and I planned to take him out of the country but things didn't turn out that way. It was the single most devastating event in my life. That was when my drug use spiralled out of control and I ended up loathing myself. And self-loathing and drugs do not mix too well together. Add to that my father being diagnosed with leukemia and me having access to the most powerful opiates in medicine: Fentanyl patches, hydromorphone, and an endless supply of refills. I OD'ed a few times and I was well on my way to going full-blown crazy. The ironic thing was that everything had stopped working, I wasn't getting high anymore. My pain was so strong that I had come to the conclusion that only death could put an and to all of this. Plus NOONE was there for me as I brought my family shame after ending an abusive marriage. How I survived that period, I'll never know.


During that period, I decided to get help for a drug problem that started at 19 when I was prescribed codeine for excruciating migraines and I ended up on a stage stripping to earn coke money twenty years later. Luckily, that stint only lasted two weeks. Anyways, for the last few years I had started educating myself on drug addiction and had tried detox and rehab enough times to realize that methadone wouldn't hurt. Going through withdrawal for up to a year seemed impossible to me--the insomnia, the mood swings, the cravings. What choice did I have anyway? The only thing that stopped me from jumping off a bridge was that I had a little boy that I loved beyond belief, a little boy who needed a mommy. So far, so good.