Not sure if you ever saw the movie “Shawshank Redemption,” but there is a great scene in that film regarding ‘hope.’ Tim Robbins’ character has it and Morgan Freeman’s character thinks he is hopelessly romancing hope because hope is a heart breaker.
Maybe it depends on the person when it comes to hope. I used to feel disdain for hope. Maybe it was because I grouped hope with wishing and praying when I was using and drinking. Then again, the things I hoped for were things like not getting pulled over by the police while I was high or having twenty extra dollars in my pocket to finish getting my load on. Go figure.
These days ‘hope’ is very different for me. I do hope for material things like hitting the lottery or waking up one day with big boobs, but I know these things aren’t going to happen, so I am acting the child when it comes to hoping, praying and wishing for things.
I need to redirect my hope to attainable things that are not materialistic. I write music reviews for three different websites. At this moment, I am not paid for this, but that’s okay. I love what I do. I hope to one day get paid to write about music, but until then I will work my day job and write about music in the evening.
I hope to one day have a flourishing career in the music/writing industry.
How awesome is it to celebrate freedom from the slavery of drugs and alcohol? Once a drudgery of self-loathing and hatred, when I put down the drink and the drug, I found a new way of life and discovered freedom to the core.
There were no more lost moments of clarity. Nights once spent in a drunken stupor were a thing of the past. My nights turned into eating at diners after meetings with other like-minded people in search of a common goal. I discovered that drinking and drugging were not a staple when it came to fun.
Fun and entertainment came in new and enlightening ways without drugs and alcohol. As I started to work my program, the chain-links of self snapped one by one, creating a gate I could swing open into a new world.
Relapse is a harsh reality in the world of recovery. There are a million reasons people give for relapse but the number one I hear everywhere I go is this: RESENTMENT. Someone who follows my blog sent me a fascinating, short video about relapse. If you’re interested, watch it. Profound, it sticks to the point.
The disheartening truth is that addicts and alcoholics relapse long before they pick up again. A switch goes off and the obsession kicks back into the brain. The obsession leads to the compulsion to drink or drug. Once the compulsion is acted upon, it is off to the races.
Please, watch the video, visit the website if you wish, and leave your thoughts in the comment section! I’d love to hear from you.
Yep.. I almost had to pinch myself this morning. I am seven years clean and sober today by the Grace of God and the amazing people he continues to bless me with. Today (and for the last three days) are days that I feel so great inside… inside. Someone commented on my Facebook status that I should be proud. I AM PROUD! 🙂 Holy hell, if you would have known me seven years ago you would have went screaming into the sun, moon, stars… whatever. The point is, I was an ugly person.. not because of my physical appearance (although this day seven years ago I wasn’t looking too hot) but because of the person I was inside.
I took so many hostages, lied to so many people and used anyone and anything to get what I needed. It was all about me and fuck everyone else. Even after my first couple weeks not picking up a drink or a drug, I was still like that. Getting sober for me was about more than just putting down a substance. It was about learning a new way to live.
Thanks to God, my program and the amazing people who God has put in my life I am living a new way; an easier, softer way which in essence, is hard, gratifying work.
Yes… I finally deactivated my Facebook account. I’ll tell you why. Because a person like me should not be on a thing, succubus, demon .. whatever you want to call it. It is a huge time suck that frustrates and upsets the hell out of me. I was on there today and thought, ‘Why the frig am I torturing myself like this?”
I have a body image problem and being on Facebook does NOT HELP. Seeing all my boyfriends new recent friends that are female DOES NOT HELP. Airbrushed images of almost nude women posted by groups and friends does not help.
All of it hinders me, makes me feel bad about myself and then I isolate and rerun old tapes in my head about “why I am not good enough.”
It’s bullshit. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. So I am on a Facebook Hiatus indefinitely. I will definitely be blogging more! I landed an internship with a Philadelphia online music magazine so I am stoked about that! I sent my novel to an editor and am still writing for brutalism.com.
I have way too much positive, substantial stuff going on for myself. I refuse to ruin it for me. And since I know me these days (like really know me) I know what makes me happy, sad, jealous, confused, angry, etc… so I am off to work on that and stay away from one of the triggers.
Peace out friends!! You’ll be hearing from me a little more in the near future.
Ya know, I kind of do this sometimes. It leads me nowhere but around in a vicious circle of self-loathing and resentment. Like, right at this very moment, I am sitting in my own crap. So I figured, ‘hey, my S Post is due, I should write about this.’
Saturday night my boyfriend and I went to a bar & grill. Ugh, I know. But his friend (who he hadn’t seen in over twenty years) was playing in a band (with his other long-lost friend) and he just wanted to clear the air with things in the past. Okay… no biggie.
We both talked to each other before we left and made a pact. Neither would leave the other under any and all circumstances. Period. If things got hairy or either of us started to feel uncomfortable we would say so and then we would jet. Okay, there is the pact.
I know you probably already have an idea of what happened. Yeah, he left me sitting at the bar (with my soda and Loaded Nachos) and went to go mingle with all his old friends. I sat there alone for thirty minutes being ogled by creepy old guys and the ‘shot girl’ asking me three times if I wanted a shot. My blood pressure shot through the roof the first time she came by and I snapped ‘no’ as I waved my hand. Still, she came by two more times. Ugh, again.
So I am trying to see through the wall to locate my boyfriend in the other part of the bar. “Where the fuck are you?” I am thinking as I get upset. I can’t see him but hope he is on the other side of that wall.
I finally spot my boyfriend and some hot blonde hanging all over him. Okay, now I am feeling resentful, angry and jealous. This is just not fucking going well… at all. My whole ‘fight or flight’ thing is kicking the shit out of me because I am extremely uncomfortable.
So finally after all that, he comes back over with one of his friends. I know my face says, ‘you suck’ because, after all, I wear my heart on my sleeve. His friend apologizes to me for keeping him away. But do I get an apology from my boyfriend? Nope. All I get is justification and ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’
For the rest of the night, true to form, I stuffed in all inside because I didn’t want to ruin the night or act like an ass in the establishment. That’s what I used to do back when I was ‘out there.’ I’d act like a total psycho no matter where I was if whoever I was with at the time hit me with a perceived injustice. But this time I wasn’t drunk or high. I was just me… raw and real with my emotions.
By the way, turns out the hot blonde was his friend’s sister.
So I guess I have grown up a little. My old behaviors didn’t ooze from my pores and I kept my composure for the rest of the night. I did try to bring how I felt up later on when we got home, but that didn’t go well. And it’s interesting, because I am still trying to get it out, but having a hard time. I suck at talking! maybe I should write a letter…
Are you able to recognize when you ‘sit in your own crap?’
You’ve heard the sayings… “don’t look back” — “learn from the past” — “the pain heals, but the scars remain” — there are hundreds of sayings that talk about the past. Looking back on the past kept me in a whirlwind of sorrow and misery. I would stay there, dwelling and obsessing like a goat over a woolen shirt. I still do it sometimes and then I think, “what the hell am I doing?!”
Feeling sorry for myself became an art as I sat at the bar, drowning my sorrows yapping about my pathetic life (which was everyone else’s fault, by the way).
I used to be hung up on the “why” of the past. Why did this happen to me? Where did I go wrong? Why me? WHY ME? WHY ME?!
The trick for me is to look back, learn and move the hell on.
It’s true, I have learned from the past. I learned that drinking and drugging were transparent band-aids that masked my misery while pouring salt in my wounds. That is a part of my past I cannot forget. Ever. But, I had to get over it… the pain, the sorrow and especially the feeling sorry for myself. How would I do that? After all, I was great at feeling sorry for myself. I was great at sitting in my own crap while I donned the face of misery and self-pity.
I should bother to look back, but only to learn and share.