--- Johnny Bananas - "The Island" ---------- best quote.
With this blog not many people know about it and that's what I like about it. I can say whatever the fuck I want and not worry too much about it.
Friday I get out of work, come home and make myself something for dinner and I get a call from my agency that those motherfuckers have eliminated my position. WHAT THE FUCK?! I lost all appetite and lost lots of self esteem because I was completely blindsided. I feel ashamed, embarrassed, hurt, lost.. and I don't know what to do. Without my income what is going to happen with Rick and my apartment? We are going to be without a home. I would say sell my car but I don't own my car, it is my parent's car and I haven't paid for it anyways. I don't know what to do. I have cried and cried and I feel ridiculous. I get messages saying suck it up and keep moving on, which I am, but please, you don't understand shit.
One year ago I was taking 10 vicodins a day to function. I was drinking vodka like water in the pantry at night when Rick was asleep... I was selling pills left and right to salesmen at the car dealership and then 2 weeks before Thanksgiving I gathered the courage to enter rehab. I haven't been ready to go open about this rehab but it is time. Not many people read this and I might tell a few people to read it to learn a little bit more about me but here it goes.
Last summer I left Rick, why? He is an amazing man who loves me whole heartedly.. why would anyone leave someone like that? Maybe the vicodin, xanax, OCD pills and anti psychotics jumbled my memory. In October I threw myself down the flight of stairs outside my apartment, why? I was so doped up I don't recall.. but I did it. I "fell" down the stairs. When I didn't get any cuts to show I fell, I took a butcher knife to my head to make sure I had a cut to prove the fall. It ended up getting infected. go figure.
One night I told Rick I wanted to end my life... that it wasn't worth the pain I was causing everyone and told him I needed to get help and I called a suicide prevention line around 2 in the morning and told Missy her name was, my story. She asked me if she wanted me to send an ambulance to come get me and I said no and that I wanted to be admitted myself via the emergency room so I could spend as much time with Rick as possible before I was admitted into the psychiatric ward. Me... a straight A student... being admitted into the looneybin.. to rehab. The stigma associated with such a thing is huge and I get that but I had to go through it. Okay, you following me or are you still feeling sorry for me? It's okay. It took me months to get through it and I still deal with it every day.
My first moment in the psych ward when I kissed Rick goodbye was the scariest moment of my life. They took my bra because there was under wire in it, they took my shoes because there were laces - laces that could be used to hang myself, they made me shower in a communal shower with a CNA in the room with me, which was comforting surprisingly because I could tell her how scared I was. Then I was dressed in blue... ALL blue paper clothes. What the fuck right? It was embarrassing. I was walking in a floor where people were staring at walls, running up and down the halls banging into things (hilarious entertainment sometimes fyi) and then I met one person, his name was Donald. I won't post his last name on here but I learned more from that one man in those 6 days I was there than I think I have learned in years.
Don and I had the same contacts, it was uncanny. He, a recovering heroin addict and huge time dealer in North Carolina, and me.. a small time pain killer popper. You would think wouldn't have anything in common but we clicked and he alone is the reason I survived those days other than group sessions and therapy. We knew various people that... well are dealers in this area, the shit on them, the hilarious stories and he was the only thing that felt like 'home' in a world of sterility... of being babysat. We weren't crazy, we were recovering. We showed each other our 'battle scars'.. that's what we called them. He showed me where he would shoot up and where he tattooed over them. I then showed him my wrists.. and how they were tattooed as well. Put it together people, I am not going to spell it out.
Don was the husband of the floor. He would clean up after people, make toast for you in the morning when you missed breakfast and him and I.. we actually watched Titanic together. Okay shut up you people laughing now, but it was nice to go and sit in the small room on the ward together and watch the 4 hour long movie on cable. We weren't trusted together mind you because #1 I am a woman and he is a man, #2 we both were dealing with drug issues (Even though the ward thought I was more suicidal) and #3 someone overheard that we had been 'running' with the same group. Don kept me sane in there and once I was discharged we never saw one another again but to Don, thank you. Thank you for being you and keeping me company and sane during the scariest moments of my entire life. I prayed for him and I continue to pray for his well being. Entering that facility was the scariest thing I have ever done but I tell myself that it was the bravest decisions of my life and that I deserved to get help. I would be lying if I told you I was 100% recovered, because, I am not. Each day is a battle, each day I feel a thirst, but if you were to look at me 8-9 months ago versus now I bet you would see a different person in front of you.
I want to thank those who were ALWAYS in my corner. Rick... oh dear Rick. You should have ran when you had the chance. I don't know how anyone could have put up with what I was going through. I was dealing with the pain of losing my grandmother, of surgeries that mangled not only my physical body but my emotional state as well... for me hurting you, for everything. No matter what petty fights we have... what struggles we go through know that I have and I will do anything and everything in my power to make this work. You deserve this, WE deserve this.
Amy. You are my best friend but last summer you were an enemy to me. I hated that you sided with Rick, that you didn't back me up but it wasn't fair to you because you didn't know the whole story and you were trying to save me from myself. Without you both together I would be dead by now.
So to you who have never heard this about me maybe now you will understand why I am the way I am. I may be cynical, I may be sad, I may be crazy happy, I may be crazy period but I am who I am and I wake up each morning questioning the reason why I am here on this planet and one day I hope to find out.
Thank you all for the support. I don't want pity, please. No pity. Just see me as I am. I am an intelligent woman who will give life and limb for those closest to my heart.. I just have had bumps in the road that I have overcome.
"Here I am perfect as I'm ever gonna be, you'll see.... Love me for me"
With this blog not many people know about it and that's what I like about it. I can say whatever the fuck I want and not worry too much about it.
Friday I get out of work, come home and make myself something for dinner and I get a call from my agency that those motherfuckers have eliminated my position. WHAT THE FUCK?! I lost all appetite and lost lots of self esteem because I was completely blindsided. I feel ashamed, embarrassed, hurt, lost.. and I don't know what to do. Without my income what is going to happen with Rick and my apartment? We are going to be without a home. I would say sell my car but I don't own my car, it is my parent's car and I haven't paid for it anyways. I don't know what to do. I have cried and cried and I feel ridiculous. I get messages saying suck it up and keep moving on, which I am, but please, you don't understand shit.
One year ago I was taking 10 vicodins a day to function. I was drinking vodka like water in the pantry at night when Rick was asleep... I was selling pills left and right to salesmen at the car dealership and then 2 weeks before Thanksgiving I gathered the courage to enter rehab. I haven't been ready to go open about this rehab but it is time. Not many people read this and I might tell a few people to read it to learn a little bit more about me but here it goes.
Last summer I left Rick, why? He is an amazing man who loves me whole heartedly.. why would anyone leave someone like that? Maybe the vicodin, xanax, OCD pills and anti psychotics jumbled my memory. In October I threw myself down the flight of stairs outside my apartment, why? I was so doped up I don't recall.. but I did it. I "fell" down the stairs. When I didn't get any cuts to show I fell, I took a butcher knife to my head to make sure I had a cut to prove the fall. It ended up getting infected. go figure.
One night I told Rick I wanted to end my life... that it wasn't worth the pain I was causing everyone and told him I needed to get help and I called a suicide prevention line around 2 in the morning and told Missy her name was, my story. She asked me if she wanted me to send an ambulance to come get me and I said no and that I wanted to be admitted myself via the emergency room so I could spend as much time with Rick as possible before I was admitted into the psychiatric ward. Me... a straight A student... being admitted into the looneybin.. to rehab. The stigma associated with such a thing is huge and I get that but I had to go through it. Okay, you following me or are you still feeling sorry for me? It's okay. It took me months to get through it and I still deal with it every day.
My first moment in the psych ward when I kissed Rick goodbye was the scariest moment of my life. They took my bra because there was under wire in it, they took my shoes because there were laces - laces that could be used to hang myself, they made me shower in a communal shower with a CNA in the room with me, which was comforting surprisingly because I could tell her how scared I was. Then I was dressed in blue... ALL blue paper clothes. What the fuck right? It was embarrassing. I was walking in a floor where people were staring at walls, running up and down the halls banging into things (hilarious entertainment sometimes fyi) and then I met one person, his name was Donald. I won't post his last name on here but I learned more from that one man in those 6 days I was there than I think I have learned in years.
Don and I had the same contacts, it was uncanny. He, a recovering heroin addict and huge time dealer in North Carolina, and me.. a small time pain killer popper. You would think wouldn't have anything in common but we clicked and he alone is the reason I survived those days other than group sessions and therapy. We knew various people that... well are dealers in this area, the shit on them, the hilarious stories and he was the only thing that felt like 'home' in a world of sterility... of being babysat. We weren't crazy, we were recovering. We showed each other our 'battle scars'.. that's what we called them. He showed me where he would shoot up and where he tattooed over them. I then showed him my wrists.. and how they were tattooed as well. Put it together people, I am not going to spell it out.
Don was the husband of the floor. He would clean up after people, make toast for you in the morning when you missed breakfast and him and I.. we actually watched Titanic together. Okay shut up you people laughing now, but it was nice to go and sit in the small room on the ward together and watch the 4 hour long movie on cable. We weren't trusted together mind you because #1 I am a woman and he is a man, #2 we both were dealing with drug issues (Even though the ward thought I was more suicidal) and #3 someone overheard that we had been 'running' with the same group. Don kept me sane in there and once I was discharged we never saw one another again but to Don, thank you. Thank you for being you and keeping me company and sane during the scariest moments of my entire life. I prayed for him and I continue to pray for his well being. Entering that facility was the scariest thing I have ever done but I tell myself that it was the bravest decisions of my life and that I deserved to get help. I would be lying if I told you I was 100% recovered, because, I am not. Each day is a battle, each day I feel a thirst, but if you were to look at me 8-9 months ago versus now I bet you would see a different person in front of you.
I want to thank those who were ALWAYS in my corner. Rick... oh dear Rick. You should have ran when you had the chance. I don't know how anyone could have put up with what I was going through. I was dealing with the pain of losing my grandmother, of surgeries that mangled not only my physical body but my emotional state as well... for me hurting you, for everything. No matter what petty fights we have... what struggles we go through know that I have and I will do anything and everything in my power to make this work. You deserve this, WE deserve this.
Amy. You are my best friend but last summer you were an enemy to me. I hated that you sided with Rick, that you didn't back me up but it wasn't fair to you because you didn't know the whole story and you were trying to save me from myself. Without you both together I would be dead by now.
So to you who have never heard this about me maybe now you will understand why I am the way I am. I may be cynical, I may be sad, I may be crazy happy, I may be crazy period but I am who I am and I wake up each morning questioning the reason why I am here on this planet and one day I hope to find out.
Thank you all for the support. I don't want pity, please. No pity. Just see me as I am. I am an intelligent woman who will give life and limb for those closest to my heart.. I just have had bumps in the road that I have overcome.
"Here I am perfect as I'm ever gonna be, you'll see.... Love me for me"
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