Tag: Drugs and Alcohol

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Bitching, Big, and Surrender

Potter County Women’s Recovery Center

May 30th, 2018

Wednesday

Day 331

8am

Everyone is just bitching incessantly today–it’s exhausting just to listen to. I just can’t fucking wait to get out of here so bad. Now we’re waiting for everyone to get around for Community. Jolene say she needs to shave her tush.

Funny.

I need to shave my legs.

10am

Well, Community was fun. Mr. Big encouraged us to call each other out and be honest in Community about what people are doing wrong. There was just a super hot guy on TV and Jolene said she almost creamed in her pants.

*sigh*

Me too.

Now she’s talking about something called Neflins existing before Adam and Eve. 

I know nothing about that.

John 20:29: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” –Jesus

Now we have “Healthy Relationships” group with the woman from A Way Out. She brought a board game, but she doesn’t know how to play it.

Hm.

11am

Chore time.

Jolene is discussing her situation with her ex with the A Way Out lady. Maybe she’ll finally get her PFA that she wants (and deserves).

John 20:31: “…but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.”

John 21:25: “Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”

1pm

Now we have Drug and Alcohol group. Today we are writing a letter to our addiction. 

Here’s mine:

From the time I was small, 

Until when I was tall, 

I knew life would be rough, 

And I’d have to be tough.

But you took it to another level, 

From that first needle bevel,

Going into my vein, 

Nothing would ever be the same.

I’d lie and I’d cheat, 

And you knew I’d be beat, 

But I didn’t care, 

You had me in your snare.

But things will be different now,
And I will tell you how.

First comes my Higher Power, 

I no longer have to cower.

Then comes me, 

And my little three.

I know if you had your druthers, 

I’d be dead, six feet under. 

But I no longer have to be scared, 

For, alas, I have been spared.

I have nothing but hate for you now, 

And this is my solemn vow:

I simply love life too much, 

To ever again use you as a crutch.

Very Sincerely, 

Justine

6:30pm 

God. 

Everyone is bitching like crazy right now.

May 31st, 2018

Thursday

Day 332

2pm

Now we’re doing a group on things nobody knows about us. We were supposed to do Community Service, but then Sugar Momma fell down again, so we stayed here. Brenda lived in 22 different homes growing up, and Jo is a triplet. Sandra just said, “Four kids is bad enough!!”

Asshole.

If people don’t want kids, why do they keep having more?!

Ugh.

Grammy is sleeping with her tongue hanging out, which is kind of funny.

10pm

Gawd.

Jo is freaking out again, this time because she’s been pitting first shift against second shift, telling second shift that first shift told her she can smoke at meetings, which is not true. She is only allowed to smoke two cigarettes per day because she gets in trouble so often.

This morning she went so far as to write Tori a note to see if Tori would ask me for my pills!! Of course, I made her show the note to Kat.

I want to scream at Jo–”BITCH, PUT THE SHOVEL DOWN!!”

Geezoman.

When is she going to learn?

I tell her to stop asking me, so she thinks Tori will??

WhatEVER.

Tomorrow I have to get online and see if I can find a place for Tori and I to live when we get out.

GOOD. 

NIGHT!!

June 1st, 2018 

Friday

Day 333

8am

Mr. Big looks hot today. But what am I talking about? He looks hot every day. I had more dreams about him when I went to bed last night.

God.

I fantasize about him when I’m awake, I fantasize about him when I’m asleep…it’s exhausting.

Ugh.

Now he’s in the room. I’ve got to stop.

Anyway…….doot….de doot…..de doooooooooot….not thinking about him at all…..yeah, right.

9am

Inspirational Group

The average American will meet 10,000 people in his or her lifetime. 

Lessons from Admiral speech: (inspirational)

If you want to change the world:

  1. Make your bed every morning.
  2. Ask for help.
  3. Measure people by the size of their heart.
  4. Keep moving forward.
  5. Don’t be afraid of failure (it makes you stronger).
  6. Sometimes you have to slide through the obstacles head first.
  7. Don’t back down.
  8. Be your very best during your darkest moments.
  9. Give hope to others, never give up.
  10. Respect everyone.

11am

I sweated my ass off in Gym. Now I get to sweep and mop the giant dining room floor. I’m finally doing my laundry too. Stupid Jo didn’t go to Gym, so she’s in even more trouble. I guess I’ll get on the computer for 15 minutes and look up apartments.

No luck with apartments. There’s one in Port Allegany that I might consider if it’s okay with Tori.

2:30pm

Big left for the day. Inspirational quote on the board (from And Still She Laughs, by Kate Merrick):

“And so I surrendered. I surrendered the idea that I can play God and control the outcome of my life. I surrendered the sinful attitudes, the self pity, the ugly fits. I surrendered the kicking of feet and lashing out at the One who is carrying me. I surrendered the wasting of time, sitting around paralyzed because I can’t get past the mess my life has become or the disappointments I have suffered. I surrendered what I had been holding back, all the love and adoration I had been withholding from God out of a broken heart: stingy, petulant, and hoarding affection.”

“In all their suffering, He also suffered.”

–Isaiah 63:9

10pm

Watching TV for the first time in over a month. I’m finally off of Restriction. I bought hair dye tonight–I can’t wait to dye my hair, but we’re only allowed to do it on the weekends, so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

Tori does not want to live in Port Allegany, which sucks super bad, because I was kind of hopeful about it.

Ugh.

Now “Knocked Up” is on–for the millionth time.

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Heroin, Christmas, and Hair Dye

December 22nd, 2017 

Friday

Day 172

Mr. Big isn’t here today. I told him I needed to talk to him after the meeting last night, but he didn’t make himself available to me at all, which I am mad at him for. I needed to talk to him because there’s this little girl. This sweet little blonde haired, blue-eyed girl at Crossroads named Barbie. She’s meek and mild and sweet and wonderful and people feed her drugs because they think that it’s funny to exploit her. She relapsed last week, and showed up at Crossroads this week broken and ashamed and scared, and all I wanted to do was hug her and tell her that was scary, right? So let’s never, ever, EVER do that again, okay, please?

She started with marijuana, reasoning that it wasn’t meth (her drug of choice), so it was okay, and then ended up doing a lot of other drugs on top of that, blacked out, and drove, and had sex…it was bad. 

But somehow she made it back to Crossroads, where I asked her why on EARTH she hadn’t gone to the meeting Tori and I told her about two weeks ago. She looked down and quietly whispered something about working a lot, and I fairly shouted, “Meeting makers make it! If you have time to get high, you have time for meetings!!”

This asshole drug dealer was texting her pictures of pills as we were talking. I talked to her as much as I could, and asked her if, wouldn’t it be nice, in 20 years, she could say to somebody: You know why the last time I relapsed was my last time? It was 2017, and I was 19 years old, and I took all these drugs and blacked out and did all these things and realized that this was not a way to live, but a way to die? Oh girl, I’m so scared for you…I don’t know what else to do, didn’t know what else to do, so I gave her my number here at the Center and have been praying ever since that if she were to call, that somebody would give the phone to me! 

AND THAT’S WHY I NEEDED TO TALK TO MR. BIG!! 

LIFE AND DEATH!!

I don’t know why, but Barbie and I connect on some sort of deep level, and I can’t change that and I care about her and I want her to do well…she has two jobs and is taking classes…poor girl. I don’t even know that she’s tackled Step One.

But Mr. Big isn’t here today. And it’s Friday, so he won’t be back until Monday. So I’m furious. And scared, with my stomach in knots hoping, HOPING that she can make it through this weekend without using, or if she does call, then somebody will put her through to me.

Pink surprised me again and wrote a sincere and smart essay on respect–1000 words! It was awesome, and she asked me to read it last night. She seems to really be on the road to wanting to make progress. I hope she can walk the walk.

We’re watching “Save the Last Dance” right now. Slumber party day. Everybody’s sick and I’m sore as hell–hope I didn’t catch the flu–even my shoulders hurt.

Oh. Gert’s making us do group–Nickolai is being grumpy about it. Securing Housing Participant Workbook–this should be fun. I can’t breathe out of my nose. Oh, listen to this–over fifty years ago, the United Nations issued a Declaration that having a home is a basic human right. 

Huh.

Then there’s reality.

A movie on finding houses–hm. It has a bunch of people talking on it about being homeless.

Well, that’s not helpful at all.

Gert asked me my input and I told her–being poor is a full time job. I know. I did it.

Group over. New group on following rules. Nickolai says that this essay she has to write on following the rules makes her legs restless and her blood itch. She says she wants to scratch her veins. Crafts do that to me. I hate crafts. What a pointless, idiotic thing to do. I know, that’s mean. I hate crafts. Nickolai does too. Twenty more minutes left in this group–it’s dragging really bad. Now Pink is reading her (brilliant, I think) essay on respect to the group.

Joey left today–stupid probation wouldn’t let her go to Florida to be with her family on Christmas, so she has to spend it in Potter County all by herself, poor girl. She says she’ll call us with her address, though, so I’ll have to write her. 

December 23rd, 2017

Day 173

Saturday

1pm


Red gave me the nicest gift for Christmas!! A wooden sign with my favorite Bible verse on it!!! And a necklace! How super nice of her! Omg I’m so grateful!

I slept all day on the couch in the Common Room–I’ve been in a lot of pain today and yesterday. We’re watching a movie about Ray Charles with Jamie Foxx in it.

It’s good.

Today’s been pretty awesome actually. I got to sleep, lunch was good, and now a movie with a great Christmas gift! Merry Christmas to me! I only wish I could get ahold of the kids. I called everybody’s home and cell phones–no answers. I talked to Tiger yesterday, but she didn’t feel good and didn’t say much. Pink has been bullying Tori lately, which I didn’t know about. Tori told me today. I’m going to have to talk to Pink about it somehow, but I don’t want Tori to get the backlash.

Bitch.

December 24th, 2017

Day 174

Sunday

Christmas Eve.

December 25th, 2017

Day 175

Monday

Christmas Day at the Women’s Center. Who would have thought I’d be here for Christmas.
Happy birthday, Jesus.

I made homemade stuffing for lunch, which is weird because there’s not turkey to go with it. 

Ham.

Yuck.

We’re watching “Flight” in the break room. Nickolai has been sleeping all day. I was going to wake her for a cigarette, but she looked so peaceful I didn’t. The weather is bad–very windy and snowy. 

Slammy and Gert are on today–it makes me feel bad that they have to work on Christmas.

December 26th, 2017

Tuesday

Day 176

4pm

Dyeing my hair. Back to blonde. Mr. Big is still here for some reason and he won’t give me the scissors so that Torie can cut my hair. 

I’m pissed. 

8pm

In house NA meeting–Nickolai is super pissing me off right now–she’s throwing a fit because we couldn’t go to an outside meeting and she just won’t stop. I mean–DEAL with it, woman!! She’s acting like a child and I’m so disappointed in her behavior that her negativity is rubbing off on me–which PISSES ME OFF.

She’s better than that.

I told her to put her Big Girl Pants on and stop whining about it, but she just WON’T. 

Ugh. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr………………

Anyway, now Tori’s telling her story because she has six months clean on Saturday. Tori beats herself up for not being there when her daughter was a newborn. She’ll have to forgive herself at some point. She was introduced to Vicodin at 14, for God’s sake. She got clean and stayed clean for years, but when she relapsed, it was with heroin. “I was sick and tired of being sick and tired,” she said. Now she’s talking about how happy she was to get her ass back when she started to gain weight at the Women’s Center.

Of course, being so thin that you can count your ribs is not funny.

Good meeting.

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Rockabye, Alcoholism, and AA

September 9th, 2017
Saturday

Day 67

11am

Off to a meeting. I can’t wait to see my kids tomorrow.

Song–

Pray– Kesha?

“I hope you’re somewhere praying, 

I hope your soul is changing, 

I hope you find your peace

Falling on your knees

Praying…..”

Song–

“Rockabye

Ooooh love

No one’s ever gonna hurt you love

I’m gonna give you all of my love

No one matters like you love

So rockabye….”

I wrote Lilly a letter. Still driving. Preggo #1 seems like she’s going to have that baby soon. Speaking of babies, I’m reading my grief book more.

It says: 

“Very young children, by necessity, form the centerpiece of life. They absorb the lion’s share of the attention of the primary caretaker. When that young child dies, the parent is out of a job that literally consumed each of her waking hours. In addition, young children are untainted. Our love for them is pure and unconditional., so that the loss  strikes at the heart of our hopes and dreams.”

I can relate to Evelyn, who lost an adult son, when she says, “I blow up at little things, out of proportion. I’m aware that I’m ultrasensitive and that I sometimes hurt people. I have no purpose in life. What should my purpose be in life at this point? I don’t enjoy anything to the extent that I used to. My entire book, Kidowed, was a blow up. 

The entire thing.

“The more ways in which people find meaning and fulfillment in life, the less crippling it is when one of those avenues is closed. That is why parents who lose only children [Ethan] lose not only the child but the entire aspect of their existence that was defined in the parent role.”

Meeting:

Easy does it (but do it)

Recovering addicts aren’t perfect after all. Our friends and sponsors are human, just like me.

Rodney: 

“I’m not drug-proof, I’m just drug-free. We do not become perfect, we become better.”

[We’re not bad, we’re sick.]

“We trust them, allowing them to love us until we can love ourselves.”

Megan: 

“I just want to live my damn life.”

“The glow of early recovery.”

Me: 

First time I said to the judge that I needed help and had a problem.

–Last night’s chip

“If I love me, why am I still doing destructive things to me?”

“The disease dies in the light of exposure.”

People hugged me. It was nice.

“The hardest part is ‘I,’ when all of the steps begin with ‘We.’”

“The higher the peak, the wider the recovery.”

“She came in with butterflies on her shirt and stretchy pants.” –Crash on an 11 year old addict going to meetings. “My heart hurts for her every time I see her.”

Song: 

The truth is…that you could slit my throat…and with my one last gasping breath, I’d apologize for bleeding on your shirt,

Maybe I should hate you for this…never did ever really get quite that far.

I found out that Crash wasn’t using to get into the Center, she was driving on a DUI suspension. She’s been clean for 15 months today and I talked to her today about sponsoring me. I wonder how that will go. I’m kind of excited about it but kind of scared that it’ll be a big flop like my last sponsor. Maybe it’ll be different because we’re sort of friends. Maybe she’ll think I’m a big flop.

Huh.

I guess we’ll see.

She told me, well showed me a tattoo that says, RIP [name of her child] on her back after I spoke (AGAIN!!) about Ethan at the meeting today and cried. That was big of her. Poor baby, only lived to be 17 weeks–what’s that–four months? Just about the age Kaylee was. Heart defect caused by alcoholism. I wonder how she dealt (well, deals) with the guilt?

I need to know.

Maybe I’ll ask her sometime. Her story prompted me to tell her about the abortion I had when I was using and drinking heavily in 2011. Of course, it was Mother’s day weekend. 

My punishment. 

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Nasty Mean Crackhead Daughters

Back to 2017–When I got remanded to the Potter County Women’s Recovery Center for one year for two nanograms of THC in my urine.

August 21st, 2017

Monday

Day 47

I want my kids near me so much it just hurts all of the time. 

All the time. 

Every second.

People talk a lot here about withdrawing from drugs–do it one day, one hour, one minute, one second…at a time.

That’s how I feel about withdrawal from my children. All of them. All of the time. Forever and ever.

4pm

Back in the car after my therapy appointment. Going  to the GI (liver) doctor this time. My therapist says that when things get really bad, I should just focus on the beauty in small things.

The solar eclipse was cool. The world sort of dimmed for a minute. 

Neat.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!!! I forgot to make my phone call!! Shit!!

Freya’s been a real jerk lately to me, which is weird, because I don’t even talk to her. Like today, I was telling somebody else about my therapist appointment, and as soon as the word “therapist” came out of my mouth, she jumped in with, “Oh, did your Mommy have to hold your hand for that?” I just looked at her for a second with my brows crossed in sort of a, “Like, what are you, TWO?!” look, and then finished my story, not even looking at her. Like–I wasn’t even talking to you, bitch!! I find that people like her are either sociopaths or in reality, even if they exude confidence and are always quick with a snappy retort, they actually hate themselves inside. That’s terrible. I feel bad for her. Been there. Just MEAN. Nasty mean to everybody. 

My father told me that they did successfully enroll the boys in Head Start. It’s ironic to me–my mother’s been an elementary school teacher for almost 30 years, and is now a reading specialist, but she won’t teach them their ABCs. 

Like–what the fuck.

It’s probably because she’s not getting paid to. Speaking of money, I’m shocked that they got in at all, because the program is income-based, and I’m sure my mother would sooner die than spend one cent that she didn’t absolutely HAVE to on her worthless crackhead (or drunk or whatever she calls me) daughter.