Decisions; Dreams

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I’ve been praying on and waying pros and cons on the situation on moving for the past however long. Recap of the situation: I’ve been planning on moving in with my best friend and her boyfriend for months, but my mom wants to divorce my father and get a duplex with me and split the ownership with me.

Interesting things my mind did when unexpectedly presented with a new option: Run-through a thousand negative experiences I had while homeless, and the three day period which is best summed up as “Gee, I’m worrying about something obsessively. Remember when I used heroin and everything was this lovely sweet haze of beauty? Oh wait, remember being homeless, having no money, and how much that sucked?”

Okay, drug segue over: I’m leaning toward moving in with my mom, despite our traditionally unstable relationship. Also, my parents have an unhappy marriage and I’ve had little interaction with my father since I hit puberty,  so I’ve gotten over feeling guilty about that aspect.

*lol, daddy issues. the struggle is real.

I wouldn’t say the decision has been officially made, but as of right now, that’s how I’m leaning.

Amused that I’d be caretaking for a person with addiction/mental health problems again, but at least this one gave birth to me and can’t/won’t beat my ass, and I’ve never had to call the cops to do a welfare check or file a missing person report on her//call 20 people to make sure she’s just gone, not dead, and I doubt these things will happen.*

*Still afraid I’m going to fall in love like a dumbass and end up in that situation again.

Christ, my life.

Not sure if I’m pursuing this option because for some reason I feel like it makes dating an asshole less likely for reasons known only to my subconcious. Like, I’d have school, a job, and my mom. No time for mentally unstable man-children with drug issues and dependency issues.

My mom is still my mom, though: “You need to get a boyfriend so we have someone to shovel the snow in winter.

…you’re still dating men, right?”

Also, the on/off nosebleed and headache continue, and I’m exhausted but can’t sleep for longer than 1-3 hours at a time. Had a super realistic dream that I went to a movie, and saw a guy that I’ve been avoiding. I decided to spent a ridiculous amount of time hiding in the movie theatre after the movie finished… only to walk out the door and see him standing there and get a speech about how I live my life…and he’s  someone who isn’t really in the position to give these kinds of lectures, but this does fall into the realm of things he would do.*

*He also passed out outside my old apartment using my wifi in his car one night, while looking super-scruffy and getting high. Cops knocked on my door at like 3am and I thought he was dead for 10 minutes.

This morning, I almost started texting my friend about this “really awkward thing that happened yesterday” that I didn’t know how to handle.  Then I tried to figure out what movie I saw, and why I decided to go see a movie in a different city by myself for no apparent reason. (The last time I was in a movie theatre was on a date three years ago, this isn’t really something I’d go do.)

Then it dawned on me.

Things to Accomplish in 2017

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Here’s a list of my goals for 2017, broken down into smaller goals; I repeat some goals from “Three Goals for Age 29“, and”bucket list“, but there are also some new ones. This is stickied so I see it regularly, but feel free to read it.

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Move; First Drug Use Snippets

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GUESS WHO DOESN’T HAVE STDS AND HAS NORMAL BONE DENSITY? THIS GIRL.

Every time I relapse, I need an std test. I go whole hog on this stuff…

So, downside of moving: I’m moving to a city that’s dry on weed because everyone there is doing meth and heroin. GREAT, everybody’s strung out on drugs I like!

Upside: Terrified of using these drugs again, already in recovery, and realize I need to avoid dark haired men who use drugs, because this is the story of how I relapse on weird shit I’ve never tried before

EXAMPLES:

“hey, they used this for therapy in the seventies! LET’S DO SOME SEXUAL HEALING!”

me: woo-hoo!” (2-Csomethingorother–not 2-CB, some dark net loving weird-kid thing)

“Hey, they’re researching using this as a chemical weapon. OH GOD. WHY IS THIS IN MY BODY. WHY DID I GIVE THIS TO YOU. EVERYTHING IS SHIT AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!”

me: *psychotic laughter* (spice)

 

“Try this.” (molly, on the night that my ex and I just “HAPPENED” to get back together)

 

“I know that guy, and he’s the biggest douchebag I’ve ever met. Here. (meth relapse on needles, comment in response to a comment about my ex. Apparently, I have this one ex that all women love, and all men who know him well hate him.)

 

“I’m going to make you feel gooooooooood, babe”  (first heroin use)

 

“Hey, I’ve been doing this for a while, can’t seem to stay off it; you seriously want to try it?” (first meth use)

 

“I’m going to blow this in your mouth.” (weed, shotgun-style)

 

“Be careful with this shit.” (Adderol + Vicodin, High school)

 

“Wasn’t this on Beavis and Butthead?” (inhalants, middle school)

 

“Just take a sip” (alcohol, childhood)

Day 4 Sober: Men, the Pink Cloud, and Vulnerability

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I can’t have men who use in my life anymore…A few years ago, I dated one guy with a lot of health problems due to drug and alcohol use, and another one who died…I get way too keyed up and worried now. I pretty much imagined every addict in my life being dead, and just got so…overly involved in things I can’t control. Again. I just want to eat their pain. Or I want to fix it, until I realize I can’t, and then I decide to just walk the path of death with another…or a couple of them, since I’m indecisive and conflicted as anything that’s ever existed.

That’s uh…a hallmark of psychological normality, I’m sure.

Man, I don’t know. Since dating those guys, I just…jump to “OH MY GOD, YOU NEED HELP. I CAN HELP. OR DIE TRYING.” I need a therapist, and need to stop trying to be one. I mean, this shit isn’t good for me or my patients…victims? patients?

at least I have an excuse not to date until next year again. Yayyyyyyy. Nothing kills a man’s attempt to get something going better than “Yeah, I’m afraid if we have a tiny argument I’m going to end up with a needle in my arm, a bottle in my other hand & a psychotic melt-down, so yeah…let’s just be friends.”

I’m attracted to things that need love and rescuing, and this never fails to bite me in the ass. As soon as I move, I’m finding the local animal shelter and volunteering so I can get my “helping the lost puppies” yayas in that way.

Thank god for my best friend and sponsor, dude, without those two I’d be up crap’s creek with a companion and zero paddles. Again.

I’ve pretty much psychologically divorced myself from these feelings about guys (until I started writing this post, haha) at this point, because I have that luxury…I realize that these train-wrecks are still going to happen…I’m making myself physically ill thinking about this…erm…time to change the subject…

Everything that I CAN control in my life is fine, though: Losing weight, doing well in school, working the program, getting ready to move away from the hell that is this part of Wisconsin…

I’m actually in a pink cloud in general and feel free and clean of my past sins. I’m a person with value, like anyone else, and I can repair my life. A lot of people don’t get this opportunity to fix themselves and I should cherish this, I suppose. I’m extremely grateful that I’m able to have the program in my life & have people to talk to. I need to stay focused on my own vulnerability as much as I would rather focus on someone else’s needs and problems. Someone else? Anyone else, lol. Somebody out there got a hang-nail I can fuss over?

tldr; joss needs to rescue herself, but she’d rather try to fix your problems.

Comedy of errors

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There’s only one occasion I can think of where everything went wrong that could go wrong. An ex and I moved to a new city. The first thing that went wrong was that I ended up being $200 short of what I thought I would have, but we soldiered on. I took a bus there – he was already in the city, and the bus ride was a long, but uneventful trip.

He met me at the bus station, and we would get a room in one of those cheap hotels, but there was some kind of issue with the desk clerk after we got the room- I think she wanted to upcharge us because there were two of us in the room, but I’m not sure. Words were exchanged, and we couldn’t stay there anymore.

We managed to go to a fast food restaurant with no major crises cropping up, though. I can’t remember what we did after, but we ended up deciding on staying in a hotel in another town until we came up with alternate plans. We got a room there and decided the first order of business was to get messed up and stay messed up, this does not mix well with making plans. We stayed there for a few days, had a couple people over, and eventually with a friend of his.

It didn’t work out that well – we were staying in an attic, we weren’t getting along that well, I didn’t know the couple we were staying with, or agree with them on anything – they had a rebel flag and supported Trump, and I was up in their attic, laying on an air mattress and reading “The Last Speeches of Malcolm X”…

It was a nightmare, to be honest, but it got me to pull my head out of my ass again and get back into recovery.