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Since I'm so totally hosed in the memory/cognition stuff right about now we'll just intersperse some of April's greatest hits here in May cause in my efforts to catch up from some necessary absences got scattered over two months before I figured out what the hell was happening. May Day. May Day. Been there pretty recently and did that pretty dramaticall. Flames coming out of the fusillage and everything. Black Hawk Down. Behind Enemy Lines Lost Weekend Days of Wine and Roses nowhere nearly as swank as nick and nora would have you believe don't feel like doing drugs today
Lets face it april and may are totally hosed what comes of trying to catch up on two lost weeks two rehab weeks two weeks of shakes and tears and short term memory loss and long term brain damage. Duplications and missing and this is about all I can enter right now happy cinco de mayo at least the long term memories are still there last year's pinata party (dubious homemade pintata but the girls didn't care, gave them more off a reason to beat it into senseless shreds) Los Lobos and papaya and guacamole not this year maybe next
Euphoric recall? Hasn't happened yet. What are we talking now? 18 days. At 30 it's supposed to get harder, we're told. Then sixty and ninety and so on. One month for every year. Do I pin my hopes on the meds and coast or do I do the other half the work I am supposed to do? Eat better exercise go to meeting get spiritual be assertive not aggressive communicate more better efficiently remember god made me and god doesn't make junk and all that. How does a cynic buy into that? Does he need to be cynical any more?
I could say I'm stronger, but it's too much trouble. What doesn't kill me makes me stronger. My strength is the strength of ten because my heart is pure. Strong medicine. Strength in unity. Strength in numbers. Ford tough ram tough dodge tough whatever. Are you tough enough? are you hard enough? Are you rough enough? Or are you wasting away on the thin ice of a new day? Sorry again? GOT MILK? GOT PASSION? COME TO PLAY? BRING THE A GAME? On the run on the mend? Bled out burnt out? Fallen on black days? Just not old ways.
Thigs are looking up a bit. Actuallly got to bury my face in a very comforting pullover right about belly-button level and get my back scratched and even got tickled a bit. Quite the change from even a week ago. It's good to know we're both trying and the future looks like hard work for something that's worth it. Got peed on by the rats again, marking me, remarking me I guess. Next hurdle back to work and won't that be fun? At least they're all going to be afraid of me for a bit. Might as well use it
The wood. The trees. The pitch black barely touched by the dime store flashlight, but no fear. Why should he be afraid? Older. Cooler. Charged with keeping him alive and safe (he thought) as mom and dad surrendered him to 10 days in Mars Pa at good old Camp Trees. Boys club city kid getting fresh air and fishing and then the much anticipate overnight hike. Two cabins, cooking over a campfire, some vaguely indian hunting game at night. Lead by the councelor and CIT (counselor in training) from each cabin to stealthily stalk the other cabin only it wasn't
Well back to work wasn't so bad, thank God beth was the first person I saw. She's cool and wasn't going to judge me, there's a teenager there with some issues and she knows how hard it can be. Everybody was low-key and "hey, you're back. Nice to see you" and all that. No major yet, and that's ok with me. No panic, no hyperventilating but vigilance is my watchword. Slippery slope and fast slide so have to watch that I don't find myself on the top rung with nowhere to go but down fast and hard on my ass
Things I've noticed: In 22 days only one dream, that I was working at krispy kreme (ancillary question: would that be good or bad/). When will I start dreaming again? Do I need to to stay sane? Paul's a good guy but a bit out of touch. Maybe it's me, but "doobie" is sounding quaint enough let alone "reefer." (Maybe he was being ironic/campy?) A big licky waggy happy dog is better than drugs or booze. Plus, you can talk to the dog and people are at least willing to consider you an eccentric animal lover, not a raving nutball.
How do you avoid the near occasion of sin when that's every waking moment? How do you stop hanging out with your using friends when you never hung out with any in the first place? Why do anti-depressants and anti-anxiety drugs have sexual side effects? Just to torment us? You're feeling better psychologically but the old drive and the plumbing connected to it has to be shut down for that to happen? Is it a good thing that I can talk some now about what happened at camp? Am I processing it? Using it as an excuse of to justify?
So this is what it's like to feel calm. Not dead, but not vibrating. Not twitching. Not shaking. Slowed down long enough to think about things without just reacting to them. Sometimes already I miss the hyperspeed adrenaline but do I really miss it or am I telling myself I miss it because I was so used to it? Fuck it. I can breath during excruciating staff meetings I can sit on the couch and watch movies with sonny and snuggle and not feel like I have to be somewher else doing something else that's enough for me right now
Tuning in the shine turning to the light the light of day the light of life and my light heart still feels heavy in spots the spots the shadows that show up on the film unbidden and unexorcised black like my soul and hard like my mien spotty like my record frightening like my past (my future?) maybe not a sentence yet maybe a phrase a phase a period punctuated by declaratives and ejaculations and exhaultations and mending with amends amen amen can I get a witness I'm scared witless with this knowledge comes the chance to get with this
Is it serenity or lack of fear? Chemical calm or constructive change? How the hell do I know? It's not bad though. Roller coaster weekend; Friday anger and sarcasm, Saturday revelation and honesty and sadness and closeness, Sunday in sync fun, flirty even, words of encouragement and hints of fleshly pleasure for those who stay on the path. A sight unseen for a bit to keep the bit in my mouth and the blinders on and my eyes on the prize. I'm cool with that so why am I developing this thing for the redhead in rehab? Probably her attitude
Before it was the drinking and the drugs that took up the time and the energy and drained the ambition and fed the apathy. Now it's all there in front of me and they are encouraging me to try it out and see what I like. Go to pridefest with my new friend and her gay friends? See all those movies I've wanted to, even if it means going by myself? Talk endlessly about yourself, give up the poisonous secrets that kept you down and held you back. Not excuses, but factors, triggers, catalysts, parts of the whole fucked equation
What does it profit a man to pray to avoid the near occasion of sin if simply breathing puts him in that proximity, simply being sentient places him in the wrong company? What good is craving uxorial company and favors if he is impaired enough to never realize their true value? Birds do it bees do it but is it all instinct? Does the red breast admire the cut of a wing or the botoxed beak? I've been to the mountain top and woke up face down in the valley and the view is always the same with this yoke
"I'm not a coward I've just never been tested, I'd like to think if I was I could pass." Used be the storyline the motto the mantra. Now the test is here and the first blue book is complete and the stables have been cleaned and this elephant has been faithful 100 percent. But this is just the beginning the simple multiple choices the kind or sadistic teacher offers up to ease you into it or lull you into it next thing you know three part logic problem show the work then 15 minute break and time for the essays
Poor renee 18 days off and almost a week out and who's back taking up residence? I was surprised to see her getting her cigarettes delivered until I learned she took a dive for the sixth time. A week on the couch without going out or showering or eating, sick and sad and disgusted. There goes any cockiness I have for the day. Today she's joking with the latest group about taking up permanent residence. I can only imaginge the pain she's feeling her son out of reach? Ever to be seen again? Can she put things back once again?
Some will no doubt think my passions inflamed and my humours out of sorts from the derelictions and degustations of which I have partaken. Others, peering through a curdled veil of their famously soured desires, will look for shame where none makes a home, look for penitence where such impulse is denied and derided. The shabby ones, the ones who keep to the shadows may claim kinship, but do so only on the shallowest surface, the oily filminess whose rainbow gaze spreads wide but never deep. None, in truth, save a few can meet my gaze and know the truth
There's a big day coming I can hardly wait Dreamy? Violent? Stimulating? Awake all the way till the end? Sleeping through the whole thing? Call note tape photo email web notice? Apologies or fuck yous or regrets sory sadness it's mine and I chose this after much thought and a lifetime of feeling? File cabinet arrangements short notice changes will to power will to succeed will to achieve will I or won't I? Do what thou will whole of the law Lay my scene in fair verona One of a pair of star crossed lovers Two hours journey Maybe less
I mean I mean I don't know I can't figure it out I can't make it go away or forget it or anything it's just there all the time there digging into gouging excavating fighting forcing it through all the twists and turns and all the crap that's involved in getting it out and into the open and through all the hoops and hurt and no fucking help at all nobody there to help to offer a hand to dig in and help me maybe dig out? Please please please let me help me get me save me right now
Woe is me wah wah wah clap clap—I believe oh lord I believe all the way—have I lost my soul my mind?? Don't let me hear you say life's taking you nowhere don't let me see you run for the shadows. Wah wha wah clap clap noises in the building voices in the walls not visions dreams that don't make sense isolated in a crowd crying 96 tears way too many tear drops for this heart any other heart to be crying. Wishing hoping binging purging wringing guessing asking pleading giving giving up but no way giving in
Shit. When I get out of here I'm going to have a marathon session entering words. No way I'm dropping out now. I have to do it for myself to preserve whatever sanity I have left. Love/ hate thing with the computer, it's contrary some times, but the words are love and life, hope and dreams. And hell, a big sloppy breakdown gives me more to write about than some of the old standbyes. I could right about A___, who at first seemed like a giant prick but turned out to be the smartest and kindest and most helpful person here.
Or I could write about the pop tart. No matter how fucked up we were when we got here we got a little better every day. Not her. 10 minutes into a class or therapy she's out the door to smoke (even money says there's pot involved. They don't make a big point of searching you when you go out on a pass and come back) or eat or just disrupt thigs with her coming and going. Refusing to at least try and change, shouting out completely inappropriate things at completely inappropriate times. She finally got "invited" to check out
I'm not afraid to be blind I'm not afraid to be (pardon my french But how do we say it these days??) mute I'm not afraid to be missing a limb what I'm most afraid of so totally afraid of is losing my hearing because then all I'd be able to hear would be the voices inside my head and those aren't good voices to listen to and I can remember how ever great song I've ever loved sounds and that's not a problem just how to hear them if the voices are the first thing the only fucking thing.
So slow so nice so sweet do you dream are you innocent when you dream do you dream of not being innocent of not being so fucking nice of doing what you were created to do and enjoying it tasting it tear and rend and split and accept? Visceral vital visceria no vitality but will to strength not to grow stronger but to accept the other one not to change or transform or grow just to give up and take what comes what may what will you already have and didn't have a choice but now you do do you?
It's right there no they're both there not quite the precision instruments I'd prefer but they're here and then they're there and then first one then the other is in my mouth and in the center of my forehead and sawing sawing ever harder but ever so slowly getting harder just to feel just to hurt just to hurt the just and to serve justice and it's just us me and the two of you so serviceable so tough enough just touch enough but am I tough enouch to not saw to not slide to not stab well sure sure
Kicked loose, but still tethered. From residental to "partial hospital" five days of 8:30-4 but I get to leave after to my domestic half-way house for a week while I line up my domestic short-term (what did she say? At least a couple of months? It's nice and open-ended) rommateship. I'm looking forward to the solitude no TV just a clock radio and lots of books and plenty of time to write. Got to see the new arrivals as I was checking out and they probably look better than I did when I got here. Big wheel keeps on turning
Here's what we're getting: good drugs to replace the bad ones we self medicated with before. Can't say I have any argument with that. The little pink pills allow me the chance to think about going back to work without trembling and waking up with pounding heart and not enough air no matter how much a gasp and to get a hircut with getting to the door and not having the nerve or the strength to open the door and fgace people we don't know. Therapy. Group, coupls and individual if we need it. Education. Videos. The occasional fun movie
My positive affirmation for the day: That was then, this is now (which the hell "new romantic" band did that kick-ass version of that one?). Today I will be good to myself by: playing six hours of music as loud as I can (Here I am now, entertain me distract me enrich me energize me give me Clem Snide and Tori Amos and the Ass Ponys and Brian Setzer and They Might be Giants and Ike Reiily and Warren Zevon). Today I feel: on the side of the angels (no thinking of women and glasses of beer for me today)
With all this bitching stuff you might get the wrong idea. It's definitely been good for me. Part of it, naturally. is the meds. Take away the "bad" chemical that helped me function and substitute a "therapeutic" chemical that does the same. I'm not complaining. I can come to work without trembling and get a haircut without the pounding heart and the can't breathe stuff. Talking about things has helped, I've learned ways to politiely and adroitly refuse other people's work that I don't have the time or inclination to do. Sorry. Makes me insane. Not gonna even try it.
I guess in therapy speak what I'm doing now is processing. We really never discussed the movies and lectures and role playing exercises and drawing assignments. We processed them. As good as any word I guess, but sounds a bit clinical, a bit emotionally distant. Hell, I've been intellectualizing my problems and feeling and processing them for years now. That's one of the reason I ended up in residential rehab in the first place. The OED isn't down with process in the sense of this use, but I suppose it might in that flashy tart merriam-webster. She likes that stuff
You know if you take a crayon and run it up and down the length of your arm and saw it across your wrists where you can see those I guess blue veins I guess veins the mere act the mere muscle memory almost feel like the real thing. Plus nobody has to clean up after and if you put a crayon, say a yellow green crayon in your mouth either end first it smells good and tastes good so that's a coping skill huh and as eamonn would say it "smeals" good wall of sound wall of death which?
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