A Beautiful Mess

A Sexual Abuse and Addiction Recovery Blog

Rock Bottom Has Arrived

It’s been a while since I have blogged.  I thought I had a grip.  I had a great relationship, a pet, a home and thought I was going to be on my way to the alter at some point.  I was dumped.  I relapsed.  I want to justify the relapse and say how it really wasn’t that bad and he should have stood by me during the hard times if he loved me the way that he did.  Long story short, he didn’t and I was on my own.  He was a vicious monster and changed the locks, talked a lot of shit about me and left me high and dry (no attempt at punny, but it happened).

My “mom by love” was sick of it all and she’s not one for having me stay at her house so I needed to make decisions quickly and the decision I had made was to move to Florida with my cousin.  That was a knee jerk reaction and a decision that was made in a highly emotional mind.  It wasn’t her fault for rushing me, but mine for not just sucking it up and going to the shelter and “putting my big girl panties on”.  I’ve been avoiding this bottom by reaching out, doing risque activities and just doing whatever I could to avoid anyone knowing how shitty my life had become.

Florida was great, but I really intruded upon my cousin’s life and was pushing boundaries.  I didn’t mean to push the boundaries, but my cousin’s trauma that she has dealt with in her life is just pushed to a corner of her mind that she doesn’t visit.  She has left it behind and doesn’t wish to unpack that box or revisit it.  Where I find it healing and soothing to discuss such things.  My social anxiety took over and when she said she was having 3-6 people over for Easter, I could barely breathe at the thought.  I have anxiety, but on the holidays it’s much more intense than any other time of the year.  I ended up running back to where I just ran from due to familiarity.

I wanted to write this eloquently, but right now, this is just a reminder of what I went through for myself to read later.  I relapsed hardcore when I came back from Florida.  I started out great.  I was in Milwaukee, half ass getting my shit together, when all of a sudden I had a great idea to run to Green Bay quick … score and then leave.  Should have been maybe 30 minutes in town and then back to my safe place in Milwaukee.  I ended up staying days in Green Bay, spending all the money I had and leaving my shit in the hotel in Milwaukee where they had to pack it up and set it aside.  Medication and all.   And to add insult to injury, I had borrowed my car to my dealer who wasn’t giving my car back.

During this time, a very popular website I was using to try and get on my feet was shut down by the FBI and my means to get “fast money” was abruptly stopped.  I had to make an exit from the place I was staying, with the dealer, because the environment was getting extremely hostile.  I ended up having to call the police on myself who then took me to the Crisis Center.  A great friend and his wife let me stay at their house for almost a full week while I almost ate them out of house and home.

April 30th, I will be entering drug treatment.  I just pray that between now and then I can stay clean.  Tomorrow, I head to the homeless shelter.  Life is uncomfortable and everything feels so out of character, but that’s a good sign right?

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Fighting the Good Fight

Some days are definitely better than others.  My mind is fucking with me today.  My insecurities are shining like a lighthouse.  I feel like a downer to people around me and I’m just not in the greatest place.  There is a strong urgency to numb it all somehow, but I know that’s not the answer.  I know that these feelings are fleeting, but I’ve just been in a negative space in my head this past week.  It has included flash backs to the night my father passed, feeling inadequate, not loved equally, lesser than… a big ol’ ball of my dis-ease talking to me.  I’m fighting back and not giving in to all this amazingly crazy talk inside my head.  I’m giving myself pep talks in the mirror.  I want to cry, I want to laugh… I feel like crying, but I really WANT to laugh.  I don’t want to feel like crying.  I want to feel happiness and contentment and actually believe the affirmations that I recite when I feel like this.  I’m just working on trying to validate myself and not look to the external world to give me my worth.

This week has just been off.  First, it was someone bringing up the night my father died and the shriek I let out when I found out.  Then it was a meeting with a woman who was talking over me with large words and science type shit about a field I had chosen to explore.  On to listening to praise of others from a loved one, when inside I was wishing that they’d think that highly of me.  Did a makeup application when the woman loved it, but then went home for her husband to convince her she looked bad.  I’m not having a bad life, I’m having a really off week.  I just needed to journal to get this shit off my chest, because when I voice it to others, I feel like I’m either a downer or they are telling me I need to let it go, in so many words.


PTSD sucks.  Codependency sucks.  Addiction sucks.

Despite all this, I am choosing recovery.  I am choosing to say no to the demons inside my mind.  I will fight.

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Emotional Challenges

I am being challenged with keeping a stable emotional state of mind.  Most of it is due to things that are out of my control, but I know that certain things are negatively impacting my state of mind.

My significant other is constantly mood swinging and I’m having to detach from how he chooses to feel on a moment to moment basis.  My natural instinct is to fix it, cheer him up, do whatever to make him smile… put my own happiness second to his.  It’s literally going to kill me if I don’t change my ways.  He’s not physically violent, but the emotional instability from all this certainly isn’t good for my recovery.

Codependency sucks.


Christmas Hangover

When I refer to “Christmas Hangover”, I’m not talking about alcohol or any mind altering substances.  I’m talking about the emotional buildup of hanging out for the obligatory socializing with people I may not normally see or talk to any other time of the year.  It is awkward for me and a painful reminder of childhood circumstances and the damage I’ve caused with addiction and side effects of PTSD.

I do my best to attend and really work on keeping my perspective on the side of feeding the “good” within me.  I can make a heaven out of hell – or – a hell out of heaven.  I did pretty well until I sat down for dinner for day two of festivities and the absence of my father just set in… all at once like someone sat a huge cement block on my chest.  I feel like I did well overall, but I had reached my maximum output.  I could no longer keep the mask on of holiday festivities and the real me starting shining through.  I don’t like to come across as a drama queen.  It’s kind of been my forte over the years and I’ve come to terms with the need for a higher level of emotional maturity.  I succeed most of the time, but man oh man, I could feel a break down bubbling up.  It’s not that I don’t love my family, but I don’t have the relationship with the them that I wish I did.  So… being there, feeling the obligatory invite, and seeing them interact and all that… it just saddens me in a way that I don’t think they could understand without personally experiencing.  I feel like they are doing my stepmother a favor by having me there.

I’m fighting some severe codependency issues.  I was in denial and only recently identified that it’s a severe issue in my life.  Putting myself in the center of my own universe and accepting responsibility for my own happiness is extremely scary and foreign to me.  But I know that it’s intensely affecting my quality of life.

So the day after Christmas is always wonderful for me… it’s the furthest I can get from having to Christmas again.  Today let the celebration commence.  Also, the days are getting longer, as well, so that in itself is another reason to celebrate.

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Gratitude – 12/17/16

  • Coffee
  • Warmth
  • Roof over my head
  • Sleep
  • No night terrors
  • Patricia
  • Knowledge
  • Clean Clothes
  • Awesome Dad
  • Grandma, Grandpa, Samantha, Mom
  • Health
  • Meeting with Jaime on Tuesday
  • Love
  • Interview
  • New Year Starting Soon
  • Start of Day 4
  • Snow Storm…. yah yah yah

“I’m either working on recovery or working on a relapse.”  This is me… working on recovery.

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Living With Addiction

Living with addiction is like living with your enemy… inside your head.  It’s a constant battle to ward off the evil.  If I’m not feeding myself recovery food, I’m starving my soul and feeding the demon.  At any time, this beast can sucker punch me and take all that I have.  I question myself after a relapse and picking myself up is hard to do.  Each time I feel “heavier”.  I look forward to the day that I can say I have years clean.  Although no amount of clean time will ever remove this horrid condition.  I never wanted to be this.  I just am.  It’s part of my DNA.  I was further along in my recovery work, but now I question it all.  I’m ready for a do over.  I think I need to go back to page 1 and just really dive much more deeply into the work.  I’ve read it.  I know what it says, but I haven’t intellectualized and discussed it enough to really absorb it on a deeper level.  Each time, I question it less.  It’s a hard pill to swallow, but the truth of the matter is… I am an addict.  I have a disease.  It’s an obsession of the mind and an allergy of the body.  It’s a forever thing.  I must constantly feed my mind and soul recovery food or I am feeding the beast.

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I am feeling a deep sense of loss tonight.  I can’t stop thinking about my father and how much I miss him.  He was my security blanket and my comfort in times when I felt out of place.  I haven’t made the best decisions in my life and I’ve struggled with many obstacles.  I feel an immense amount of emotions that are very mixed.

I feel like the most important people in my life are all deceased now and I don’t know why all of a sudden I feel like I don’t fit in.  I feel like my stepmother is doing what she is doing out of sense of duty to him.  I know she loves me, but I’ve always questioned if she loves my cousins more than me.  I don’t know that she feels like I am truly her daughter, or if like my cousins, she just loves me like she loves them.  And I know that love is love, but when trying to decipher where I fit in the world, I guess it matters to me if she does love me more.  It sounds so silly to say, but these thoughts are really overwhelming my mind.

I spent an hour or so just reading about what happens when we die.  I think about seeing my father in the hospital and how gray he was and how vunerable he looked when during his whole life alive on this earth, I don’t believe I’ve ever truly seen him in a vunerable state.  I just am trying to deal with losing my best friend.  Wondering if she is going to leave my father’s home to them when she passes.  I don’t know.  I feel slightly like a selfish child with a sense of entitlement, but I’m also feeling like his only child, which I am, wondering if my father’s legacy will be passed on to someone other than me if and when she passes before me.

I love her dearly, but I am often excluded from activities on her family’s side.  I realize that a lot of this I brought on myself with never feeling truly connected to her family and moving away for many years.

——————————————>  NEXT DAY

Well computer shut off last night due to low battery.

I’m feeling a lot of pain regarding exclusion, estrangement and ostracization but I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to move into acceptance and just allow what is to be.  I can’t keep revictimizing myself by living in what if’s, what will be, and all that.  As far as who gets what and when and all that, I don’t care.  I can’t care.  For numerous reasons, but the biggest one is that it’s not an entitlement, it’s a gift and Dad’s gone.  What I wanted the most, I can’t have anymore and any of his material possessions, regardless of my emotional attachment to them and all that… well, they don’t matter to him anymore now that he’s gone to the great nothingness, so I have to realize it’s all just a memory now.  His memory will forever linger in the halls and rooms of that home and I will enjoy the memories I do have with him.  No amount of crying, pleading, bargaining or excelling will bring him back.  I, too, will someday join him into the quiet peace of nothing, but until then I will enjoy my life and try to be in the moment as much as possible because our lives are simply a quick snapshot of this universe.  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

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The Fabric of Life

A lot has happened since I blogged last…

On July 4th, the four year anniversary of my mother’s death, my father passed away, too.  It was completely unexpected and caught me off guard.  The loss of my father is certainly different than what it was when my mother passed.  My mother and I had a tumultuous relationship with ups, but mostly downs.  Addiction and mental illness took her long before she physically passed.  Through her I learned that no matter how much you love some people and want to save them… ultimately they have to want to save themselves.  I learned that no matter how much love in the world… if they don’t want to change and aren’t ready for change, they won’t.

Dad and I were estranged for about 13 years and when I reentered the picture I had a lot of trust to regain.  I completely annihilated it through my active addiction and acting out on my PTSD.  About 1/3 of the way into my current healing journey  he could see changes taking place and I believe it was enough for him to put a little faith back in me.  Over the past three years, he became my best friend.  He cheered me on.  Told me about myself when I wasn’t flying right.  We hung out and shared so many good memories together.  Up until the day he passed he was fully functional.  He was out messing with the food plots, mowing the lawn, bbq’ing and attending bonfires.  He was alive one minute… and dead the next.  Showing up at the hospital and seeing him laying there with the breathing tube still taped to his mouth and laying there lifeless was my worst nightmare.  I had cried many times prior to him passing at just the thought of him passing.  I wasn’t prepared to lose him so soon.  I miss him intensely.  So very intensely.  I am very thankful for the times we shared prior to him leaving his physical being.  It gives me peace.  I felt loved.  I felt supported and I finally knew what unconditional love was after searching for it all along.  I once said to him that I was looking for love in all the wrong places because it wasn’t in the right places.  I could have never been more wrong.  I have never known a love like his and he was the only person that had been in my life from the very start that was still in my life and actively participating.  I feel like I want to just write every detail down about him and our times we shared just to make sure I never forget, but hopefully in due time, over time, I will be able to recall each and every monumental moment that we shared.

It’s a lonely feeling not having either one of my parents left on this earth.  I cry every time I think about him for any amount of time.  Just one more hug, just one more moment of laughter, one more ride in his truck… one more everything.  But I’m really starting to understand that we are all here for only a certain amount of time and when it’s our time… it’s just our time.

i started dating a man right before Dad passed.  The day before Dad passed he went over to introduce himself and for once in my life, Dad gave a thumbs up.  He was actually impressed (his words!!!).

I’m struggling with anxiety, restlessness and depression right now.  I’m on Day 100 out of 102 regarding not using any cocaine/crack.  I’m really proud of myself and I know my father is really happy for me, too.  Where ever his energy moved on to.  I’ve been using Mary Jane to help me cope, but unfortunately that’s going to have to come to an end.  I’m using so little it’s not even registering on a test as anything but “trace amounts”.  I prefer this method of coping because it is the safest for me.  But my boyfriend is not able to deal with it, so I must find another way to cope with my emotional imbalances at this point.  I wish I wasn’t so afraid of pills but watching my mother whither away from the abuse of pills has completely jaded my views on pills.  I’m feeling a bit resentful about not being able to medicate in a safe way, but my use will trigger my boyfriend and it will be used against me if he uses because I see him allowing it to be a justification to abuse whatever he would choose to use.  I cannot carry the weight of that on my shoulders right now.  Even though it would not be my fault for him using.  Recovery is something we must own and hold ourselves accountable.  I know I can’t blame others for what I do or don’t do.  I choose to make my own decisions.  I am an adult and I accept full responsibility for my own recovery; however, due to my current state of mind, I can’t emotionally handle the added drama because of an occasional toke or three of Mary Jane.

I’m seeing a therapist, but at this point in the game.  It’s more so to vent and not so much because I need her to guide me through any type of treatment program.  I know what I’m supposed to do.  Just sometimes I need a person on the outside looking in for some guidance.  According to her, I’m pretty far along my healing journey and at this point we are just trying to wrap it all up into one big picture and move into acceptance.

I suppose at some point I do need to fully accept things for what they are and appreciate that it’s what makes me… ME.

My stepmother… she’s been like a real Mom to me my whole life.  She’s been in my corner cheering me on, even through the darkest days.  I don’t know what I would do without her.  I fear losing her.  I fear falling out of touch with my Uncles and Aunt.  I fear that I will someday be completely out of touch with my cousins other than an occasional FB like.  I’ve been overthinking things to a fault and I’ve really been trying to keep myself from doing that.  It’s a vicious game my mind plays, but with time I am confident it will get better.

We spread Dad’s ashes on Labor Day and he was reunited with Grandpa at their favorite fishing spot.  I miss you Dad.  I miss you with every breath I take (that you gave), every minute that passes and with the song of every bird that I hear, every sunset that I see, every leaf on a tree and every wave of the Bay, the ocean, the lake and as long as I live… so will you.  I am you.  I thank you for being there for me and loving me when I couldn’t love myself.  I hope you can forgive me for all the stress I put you through and all the sleepless night and I’m so sorry that Mom manipulated you the way she did.  I hate that she did that.  But through it all, you gave me two gifts that I will forever be grateful for… unconditional love and a second Mom that loves me dearly and has seen me through my darkest hours and I have no doubt will continue to do so.  Okay a little doubt, but that’s due to my own insecurities.  I love you to the moon and back and your essence is still alive within me.

You are/were the best Dad ever.  And if they don’t believe us… they can just ask us 😉

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Hard to Fathom

I’m still in recovery.  I’ve come to terms that it’s highly likely that I will need to see a therapist and/or still attend meetings for the remainder of my life.

What’s different at this point is… I have forgiven all who have harmed me.  And by doing so, it’s allowed me to move on from my past.  The anger, sadness and resentment were all poisons to my soul and not allowing me to be present in the moment.

I’ve finally found a place in recovery that I can call home.  It’s been a struggle because when I moved back home, the options were rather limited.  And after having the The Healing Center for two years while living in Milwaukee, I was disappointed with what little was available to me.  For me, tough love doesn’t work.  I experienced tough love for many years of my life, particularly my childhood, that it actually drives me to want to use.   I need a more compassionate environment to thrive.

For years, I denounced the idea of NA.  I thought that their approach to God indicated that I’d be sitting in a room with a bunch of people trying to convert me.  That is so far from the truth, it’s ridiculous.  Within the NA circles, God is very personal and the members respect that.  I can only speak on my experiences with the program in the little time I have been participating, but I’m ecstatic.  I need a spiritual awakening.  And to be able to do that on my terms, with people who have been in my shoes and have that guidance is nothing short of a pure recovery decadence.

In addition to going to face-to-face meetings, I have found a wonderful online community.  The people in there are wonderful.  It’s a great alternative to face-to-face meetings although we haven’t figured out how to hug through the internet… lol.  I really do miss the hugs!

I’m on Step One.  I have 15 days clean.  I am feeling excited, scared, thankful, grateful, overwhelmed and relaxed.  Quite the mixture of emotions, but I’m hanging in there.  Just for today.

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Sometimes Society Makes Me Mad…

This whole situation with Janay Rice and her husband is disturbing.  The act itself was so saddening, but reading the comments of everyone on the internet just makes my heart break inside.  She’s a gold digger, she’s stupid, she’s dumb… this is the vast majority of what I am reading.  This lady is a victim of domestic abuse… plain and simple.  Her thinking isn’t clear right now and while everyone on the outside looking in is casting some pretty horrible judgment on a young lady that needs help… desperately.  The further abuse from society itself can only further push this young lady into an even darker place.  I believe she’s scared.  I believe she’s confused.  But I don’t believe that because she stays, that she deserves it.  HE is the one with issues… and yes, she has some, but to be judged and condemned by society in the manner that is taking place is so wrong.  I wish I could block any and everything to do with this on FB, because I’ve been drawn to the comments like a moth to the flame.  In my own best interest though, I will stop reading them.  Nothing good can come of it.



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