Hi There Welcome To My Shit

I’m afraid so fucking afraid to change. Cause I think “change” hmm what’s that?

Change means letting go. Like I think change.. fuck

Change I gotta quit my job and be there for my family. But I ultimately feel like a failure and my closest friend or so I thought was my closest friend points out how I am not performing as well.. and that I should manage better and try harder. By GOD doesn’t he understand? I crave human understanding support while I undergo this change. But that’s not what I’m gonna get.

I have to do this with God only God. People will laugh at my decision to QUIT MY JOB. People will say I’m going backwards people will doubt me.

This decision isn’t because I’m afraid of working, I’m afraid of losing my family to work. I’m afraid of not being there with my father. Not because I don’t have it in me to complete the work. Fuck.

It’s not their job to understand. It’s not.. it’s only my job to TRUST GOD.

I trust Him. I’m scared but I don’t wanna drink, numb the feeling, stay busy, and go back to my 9-5.

It’s about doing what’s right now. Even when it means I’m uncertain. Common sense thus becomes uncommon sense. If anyone doubts me ima just say that shit.

To those that feel “stuck” like me, at whatever point you are in your recovery, this is what I am going to do this week, and pray that I can get all these things done. With God, I know I can!

1. Call Sponsor

2. Pray and ask God to remove my desire to drink and make me useful to Him and others!

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(If you have worked the steps...)

3. Make Amends (Finish them once and for all! And pray I will never have to do it again and actually change my actions cause fuck it sucks haha)

4. Pray & Meditate each morning for 20 Minutes (read from pg. 85 of the BB)

5. Take inventory each night

It took me a year to learn how to really let things go in recovery, and I am still learning how to do that. For some reason, every problem that occurs in my life is directly rooted from fear. In some form or another. Things happen and I get scared so I try my best to make things better, to be the bigger person, and I think that will solve it. If only I could just communicate with people better, if only I could just try harder to find a better job, if only I could just control every thing after the car accident. The thing is, I’m just reacting to life. Things happen that make me scared and I do my best to control and minimize the consequences. But whatever I do, it doesn’t change those things from happening.

I tried really hard to find a job suited for me, because I thought that was what was missing. If I found a job where I was happy then I would be ok. If I could just be a better daughter, then everything would be fine. The problem is, I cannot control things from happening. When it’s a bad day at work, I believe this situation must be cursed and I need to find a new one. When I have a bad day with my parents, I put up my defences and try my hardest to not admit to myself that I was also a part of the problem. Maybe these things are not going the way I want because I am expceting them to bring me happiness, peace and freedom. I am expecting everything to be perfect in recovery all the time and that is just unrealistic.

Acceptance (of. 417 of the big book) teaches me that when I am unhappy with some person place or thing I’m really just complaining about God. I say aloud in dispair, “But God you want the best for my right? Why can’t you just make it perfect! Why can’t you bring me something good?!”

Even when nothing is going right I have to believe everything is going exactly the way it’s meant to be. But I must also take action, by letting go of the expectation that things are always going to be perfect.

When I was using, God saved me a hundred times over. I would sit in crackhouses, get in almost car accidents from drunk driving and sell my soul for more. That to me was hell, and God was still there.

Oh baby why don’t I tell you a story. One about what it was like then vs. what it’s like now. I just want to let my hair down, take my makeup off a write so here it goes..

“I’m going to call the police on you,” my mom said as I immediately hung up the phone on her nagging voice. Jesus Christ, did she really want me in jail? What a controlling bitch.

I didn’t know what to do so I just turned off my phone and hoped I would be MIA.

It was 3am on a Monday and I had been couch surfing for a week now. First, I went to my girlfriends house to chill and smoke some weed. We picked up a few grams and laid around watching “Friends”. It was really an uneventful night so I decided to get a 26 of vodka. Even though she didn’t feel like drinking I told her I’ll just get it and save it for another time and she can have some if she changed her mind. Personally, it was part of the plan from the beginning because I was going to get even more fucked up that night.

So as we lay there in the dark bedroom, the night quickly approaching midnight, I began to take some pre-shots. I had told her I will be going home early tonight because I knew she wouldn’t approve if she knew the truth. It’s funny how she approves of me drinking and driving but not sitting in a basement party smoking crack and doing crystal. But regardless, I understood her hesitation. She didn’t have a past like me and wasn’t used to hanging around 50 year old men in strip clubs.(P.s. I should totally write a stripper segment)

So as I began taking shots she got a phone call from one of her college friends. I didn’t mind that she was talking to someone else for an hour, I actually preferred it because then she wouldn’t be focusing so much on what I was doing. The vodka was beginning to have an affect on my body and I was in a good mood. Just dancing around and listening to my own music getting tipsy as she chatted away. Even listening to her gossip about people I didn’t know added another comforting element to my intoxication.

Then 12:00am hit and I was scheduled to be somewhere. Her still on the phone, I played it off like I should head home because she was on the phone and we were “just gonna go to sleep” after anyhow”. Actually, I think she felt bad because she apologized to me for being on the phone so long. And when I said, “No it’s fine don’t worry about it,” I genuinely meant it. I’d rather be getting fucked up alone than with someone who would ruin my high.

I walked out the door, her whole family asleep, and excited as hell I drove to the next destination. I continued to chug my alcohol like water as I drove. I could have easily killed someone but for some reason I didn’t. Stupid luck, I could have ended up killing myself...

Today I fucked up, really today was a glitch of a day and insane. I’m really stressing out with work right now and thinking of how shit I did today. I couldn’t even manage to do the closing procedures properly.

I really hope my next shift is better. I just have to give it up to God and hope he can take this feeling of being a failure away from me.

Why do I feel safest when I am not? When I am so fucked out of my face that I cannot feel anything.

I drove away from my girlfriends house as I dropped her off in the east end of the city. We had just spent the night in a bar. I didn’t intent to drink that night, I didn’t even intend to go out. I was just, bored?

I picked her up mid afternoon and we drove towards the south side. There’s this little dirty watering hole where all the local degenerates go to get royally fucked. But to me, it seemed like I could just have a few bites to eat and enjoy the night, that was normal right? Well maybe on a Saturday night you would find some normies there that have a beer and a burger and call it an evening. But we went on a Tuesday.

And man the crowd on a Tuesday is rough. Any wannabe gangster from this small suburban town was there trying to move their little supply. Every hot chick who peaked during high school could be spotted there (ha was I in that category). It was a spot for every suburban drama baby and their boyfriends. All the kids did drugs and all the older heads did too. You could catch someone’s 40 year old husband hitting on these 20 something chicks with nasty cocaine habits. Then we would all go int the washroom and use, even the bar owner too.

But that is not how I planned it to go.

It’s funny a couple years later I saw the owner at a bank after hearing he sold the bar, he was broke and got arrested for some shit. He was there with his family. I could hardly recognize him in that setting, I only knew of him as another user or associate. It was weird to see him with his family, in broad daylight, at the bank, especially knowing he was in financial trouble.

I drove even further east and went even further down the rabbit hole. So I just left a bar, unintentionally did a line. I only got one in my system because I had tried to use willpower to stop myself and it worked for a while, meanwhile everyone finished the drugs and there was only one tiny line left. Determined to get more like the addicts we were, my friend and I managed to coerce some chick into inviting us to her drug dealing friends house to continue the party.

A couple hours went by and more rails were done. My friend had to go back to her boyfriend, but I was determined to run away from mine and continue maintaining my high. I dropped her off at her mans house and drove to another one. Now this is where shit gets too fucked for tumblr

Here enjoy the first chapter of a book I wrote.

Ch 1. In between

It only takes a couple minutes to look inside and find out who you are. It takes forever to look around and figure out the universe, so I preferred to do that.

I woke up today in a beautiful bachelor apartment downtown Toronto. Nope, it's not my apartment and I didn't feel pressured sleep with anybody last night for a roof over my head or a warm bed. So I'd say it was an alright morning. Despite the fact that I regretted about half of my actions from the night before and I felt alone and confused, it still could have been worse. I mean, how desperate was I to take the bus two hours to meet up with some friends of some friends at a bowling alley club? Plus, I barely got drunk. So it was uneventful and I had other ideas of “fun” compared to these college students I knew through my drinking buddies back in my hometown. Regardless, it was free alcohol and a place to crash.

Wellesley St. is quiet this morning. It’s a gloomy day, dark grey cumulus clouds draped the city skyline. The air, thick and calling for rain. One of those days where people stay inside and get high I guess.

I took my first steps into the daylight after leaving my "friends" a flimsy goodbye. I couldn’t go a second longer being awake with those college kids playing video games and chatting on the 20th story balcony. So I left. Without a cigarette to my name, I walked around the corner to buy a pack of smokes with my last twenty dollars. My friends from last night live beside the Wellesley subway station. Around the corner perpendicular to Wellesley St, lies Yonge St. where there happens to be a convenience store. I stepped out of the building that morning and reality hit me, fuck I better find a way to escape that feeling quickly. People around me were rushing into the subway station to go to work, and I watched time stand still, I didn’t have anywhere to go but.... I also didn’t have anywhere to go.

I think it’s funny being in the city, so much to focus on. Looking up, the streetlights are lined with rainbow striped flags. On the top floor of the convenience store rests a neon sign and printed on it reads, "MASSAGE". If I didn’t know it was there, I probably wouldn’t have seen it. But once you know it, you can’t ignore the hundreds of neon “MASSAGE” signs. All sitting above little strip malls throughout the Greater Toronto Area. Those girls must be pretty stupid to end up working at a place like that, I thought to myself.

Sex for money? To me it sounds weak. I’ve got thousands of schemes that would leave a man high and dry. I could pull them out my sleeve any minute.

That's how I saw the world that morning and I was high out of my mind off that feeling. I was powerful, and I loved it.

“Belmont large king,” I said to the Korean boy who’s family probably owned the convenience store.

“You have ID?”

“Yeah,” I pulled out my driver’s license, flashed it and he handed me the cigarettes.

A couple seconds later, the sound of my spare change clashing with the plastic casting of the cash register followed me out the door.

“Have a nice day!” I heard his soft voice drift behind me.

It's now almost noon and I'm walking towards the McDonald’s on Yonge St. I've spent months altogether sitting in McDonald’s, coffee shops, malls and public transit stops. No idea where my life was heading next. I honestly still don’t know.

There's a light drizzle of rain outside as I walk. Not too much that I need an umbrella, so I just throw my hoodie up and continue the trek. On my feet, black combat boots give the term "stomping grounds" it's definition.

It's quiet on Yonge St. too. Just a blah day in general. Some guy across the street is standing outside the tattoo shop, smoking a joint but I can't tell who exactly it is. I smile at him thinking maybe I can get an invite to take a few drags off the joint and some conversation. Nope. Nothing.

Well it’s about time I have a smoke.

Looking both ways before I cross, I make my way over to the tattoo shop.

“Hey,” I say nonchalantly while I light up my cigarette.

“Good morning,” he says.

He’s skinny, covered in tattoos. I can only see his neck but definitely covered in tattoos.

Still no luck getting a toke of that joint. I decide to carry on. After all, I know I’ll get high at least once today. The thought itself comforted me for now.

McDonalds is coming up after a few Chinese restaurants and some tattoo parlours. I make a quick left on my feet and I'm suddenly hit with the smell of greasy egg McMuffins and coffee. It's not the biggest McDonalds so before I place my order I look around to see if there's a good seat that I can occupy for the next couple hours. I only have four dollars to my name and it would be a waste to spend it and not have my seat.

I scan the room. To my left in the far corner by the window we have a man who looks homeless, reading a newspaper. Taking up room in the lobby are a bunch of young folks, loud and annoying looking. One asian kid with a smug look on his face is filling up his large drink cup and talking animatedly to his hungover looking friends. God, that must be annoying, I thought to myself.

Oddly enough the rest of the seats are just singles. About five or seven people are just sitting silently alone with their coffee, staring at their phone or their noses in the paper. Normal people. I wonder what they are doing... what they are thinking...

It is often said, “Addicts lack discipline so we need God to discipline us.” When I first heard this, I confused discipline for punishment. Lack of consequences for my actions is what I was used to.

Today, discipline for me is being able to set my mind to a task and complete it. It can be a “simple” task such as just sitting quietly in mediation for one hour. Even just doing the dishes, I have a hard time finishing what I start. I found the key is to start somewhere, and challenge myself to do it each day for at least one week. The real gravy or reward is in consistency, in consistency I see growth.

It’s like losing weight, I could exercise for 24 hours in one day but I still wouldn’t have lost a single pound. Well, I haven’t tried this but it’s impossible to accomplish losing 30lbs in one day that’s obvious. But miraculously by jogging 15 minutes everyday, I lost 30lbs. It doesn’t seem like a lot of work each day, but the consistency of doing it is what gave me results. When starting off, I thought I would have never been able to lose that weight.

The hardest thing to do is to start something and do it each day, of course circumstances change and no one should beat themselves up for missing one day. But miss a couple more and it becomes difficult to get back on track.

So just start somewhere, start small and it is always surprisingly easy at how fast we can build ourselves up to master the task each day.

I find meditation to be the most important task of my day, because in that moment I’m completing everything I have to do and at the same time I’m sitting still and enjoying life. Without it, I find it hard to go through all the tasks that come after throughout the day.

So tomorrow morning is my day one of one hour of meditation challenge. I will start tonight but hope to remain consistent and I will update you on how it goes and how my life has improved from it.

Ok, I’ll talk about it.

Since you know nothing about me here it goes... fuck this is weird. I like drugs, I like the feeling of escaping reality. I like the feeling of letting go completely. I have been to so many dark and dirty places chasing this feeling. The back alleys, the dark basements, the cockroach-infested buildings. 

It stopped working though. The more I used the harder I found it to let go. I couldn’t have fun the way it once was on a weekend bender, or an overnight “sleepover” at my girlfriend’s house snorting cocaine and drinking vodka. It wasn’t just a double life anymore it was my reality. The more I got into it the harder it became to escape. It became my life,

I slowly lost more and more of the people I should have loved, the opportunities I could have taken and got closer to the day I would lose my life, get a DUI or become permanently locked up in a psych ward. I thought there was no return. I mean once you get caught up in drug dealing, trafficking and the fucking street drama it’s terrifying to go back to your normal life. I thought those people were always around the corner watching me, watching my family.

On top of that, the withdrawal was inevitable. It didn’t bother me so much, what bothered me most about withdrawing was the fear of committing to normal life. So I always ran back to the drugs and the street. I thought, there’s no way people can accept me now. I can’t be normal. I flunked out of school and jobs countless times, I destroyed friendships with nasty name calling because my pride was too evident to admit I was nothing but a slave to the drugs. I disappointed my family. Even my user friends, I disgusted them and I knew it. I felt dirty ALL THE TIME. I felt there was no return.

But that’s not true. I may seem sad or scared about my problems today, but the truth is that’s all they are problems that today I have a solution to. That I know even if fucking hell freezes over, I lose everything I have I know I’m never too far down the scale to come back. Because I was fucking an each away from death and here I am breathing, working, studying, loving my friends and family.

Yeah, some people still hate me. But I don’t hate me anymore. I don’t feel disgusted when I look at myself anymore. I only worry about the people I love who I know only God can take care of. But every day, I feel the sun on my skin I feel free. I no longer have to chase that feeling, I accept that it comes and goes and it’s beyond my control.

And when I meditate and sit with God, I feel at peace I can finally really let go.