From an outsider’s perspective it would appear that I am an incredibly selfish person, daughter, partner and friend. And in many ways these people would be one-hundred percent correct. It’s easy to make these generalizations about someone who appears to be so negligent and distant. It’s easy to pigeon hole me into a segregate area of society; to compartmentalize into some aggregation of misfits. The Island of Misfit Toys. The Island of Misfit Sunny’s. I know it’s difficult to peer through the veneer that I’ve shrouded myself behind. I understand that trying to wrap your head around my thoughts, feelings, actions and emotions is an onerous task. I get it. I’m close lipped about so much, while being so open about other issues and topics. I’m a conundrum even to myself.
If I had an inkling in regards to what I’m trying to accomplish in the cavities of my own brain–then you and Dad would be the first to know. But, I can’t even keep my brain in a momentary state of stagnation. I am constantly anxious, constantly worrying, constantly doing cartwheels inside the confines of my cranium.
You have to understand that this demon has been on my shoulder for three years. The angel on the other has been trying so hard to overcome this heavy weight that tips me over due to my astronomic insecurities. But, be sure, that no matter how big of an obstacle that this seems to you, my family, that it is even harder on me. Behind this mask lies someone who has just a big of a heart as you and Dad. I ran into a wall. I understand this. I failed to be stronger than my vices. But, the person inside me is still there aching to escape. And every day I feel it growing more powerful. Every day that you both accompany me to appointments, offer to do my laundry, ask me to visit you, invite me places, email, or call just to say hi…. I grow further and further away from the darkness and move closer towards a brighter future.
It might seem bleak for you right now. It might seem as though you are facing a reality of perhaps burying a daughter. It might seem as though all of your efforts to encourage and support me have been seeped in futility. But, the truth of the matter is–that every single kind gesture you both make is noted and shared with Megan and myself. I tear up at just the thought of all that you have done for us. The laundry list of actions that you did not have to partake in, but did. I think of all the money wasted on me. I think of how all of this could have been prevented if I were just a little stronger. If I had received help sooner like you had attempted to coerce me to…time and time again. Who would I be now if I had just been on medication years prior? My stubborn nature and unwillingness to relent and accept defeat kept me from excelling. I know this now but I’ve always been a late bloomer. I’m twenty-six and am just now figuring out what is important in life and what I need to work on to become the person you always saw in me, but I was never able to.
I’m not perfect. I never will even come close. But, everything I have ever learned, everything I have ever admired, everything I will always hope to become…. it all came from you (and dad, but this is your birthday letter). I’ll never be you. I’ll never have the strength, courage or bravery that you possess. I am just me. I am a shy, insecure, crazy and dysfunctional wallflower. But, I’m proud to call you my mother. I’m proud to share your DNA and to be a part of our amazing and supportive family. I brag about you all the time to anyone I meet. I know none of you are of the affectionate persuasion… However, I hope you have noticed in the past two years I have started to hug you both every time we meet and say “I love you” upon every departure. It is seldom returned, but I know that it is a silent and tacit agreement that we share regardless of the reception I receive. I can hear it in your voices, I can see it in your eyes, and observe it in your actions. I know that I am loved. I know that no matter how little I think of myself–I will always live for you. I will do anything I can to prolong my presence upon this Earth for you. I will keep walking, keep striving, keep trying and keep working on developing myself for you. I want you to enjoy my goofy self as long as you shall remain here with me. I will never leave you.
I do not deserve you. I have not earned your love and affection, but I am blessed beyond belief to have you. I may not believe in a “higher power,” but if there is a God… he is looking down on me and handing me a bazillion four leaf clovers… because no one is as lucky as me.
Happy Late Birthday.
I love you so much. More than you will ever ever ever know (Despite my attempts to prove it to you).
I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean that in the sense that they have some insanely awesome products right now. It’s by far my favorite store–and though it sells some overly quirky items (I’m not a hipster and not someone likes to wear headresses or tiaras very often… slash never.) there are some things that I don’t think I can live without.
Case in point:
Nike Dunk Hi 6.0 Sneaker
$39.99 from $82.00
I’ve been in a Tegan and Sara-ish mode recently. I’ve been liking the skinny jeans paired with high tops. It’s probably a phase. But, I think it matches my hair well
Magic Rabbit Slippers
$14.99 from $24.99
We got Meg some for Christmas with kittens on them–and I’m jealous of them because she just talks about how comfy and warm they are. And we are cute and like to match. Nerds.
Vans Zapato Del Barco
$39.99 (was $60.00)
They just look casual and comfy. I don’t have much to say.
Silence & Noise Boyfriend Blazer
$39.99(Was $78.00)
NFL Football Sweatshirts
$34.99(Was $64.00)
I’m a Philly and NY Jets fan. I originally selected them due to their colors and logos. And then I loved Donovan McNabb. But, most of all–these are AWESOME looking sweatshirts!
Humane Society Tee.
$19.99(Was $28.00).
Do I need to explain? I heart animals and fully support any effort to save as many as possible.
Crocodile Menswear Watch
$24.99(Was $34.00)
This is a chick watch in a menswear style. And–menswear looks good on me! I can rock a vest and blazer like nobody’s business. Why not add an accessory?
First Day Plaid Tie
$14.99(Was $24.00)
Oh. Speaking of menswear…. I love ties. I also love the preppy plaid look. And I love skinny ties. Win.Win.Win.
Reworked Leather Pocket Wallet
Online Only
$29.99(Was $44.00)
Nothing really special about this wallet–but I like the color, snaps and leather look.
Azure Stamp Quilt
$29.99(Was $109.00-$129.00)
It looks fun. I typically have nothing of color in my house. I’m all about neutrals. I wear basically nothing but black, love black and white prints, and typical boring stuff like that. This would be a pop of color in an otherwise blah apartment.
Floating Flowers Duvet Cover
$19.99(Was $69.00)
I’ve always been a fan of this duvet cover–but, I don’t have a duvet insert so… it’s a no go.
A Place For Towels Hook
Online Only
$9.99(Was $29.00)
This is borderline tacky, but I like it for some reason. And we always need a place to hang our towels to dry. They seem to always be damp and gross.
NYC Map Collage Framed Print
Urban Exclusive
$24.99(Was $44.00)
This is fun. I like the orange frame. I’m not brave enough to stray from a black frame–and this might change my opinion about that. I’m also a big fan of maps of any sort. I’m geographically an idiot. I don’t know how to read a map or even a compass. I’m useless. But, I think there is something interesting about grids and maps.
Paris Snow Globe by Clare Owen Wall Art
Online Only
Urban Exclusive
$9.99(Was $34.00)
I have a lot of Paris themed framed photos and art posters. This one reminds me of a concert poster and it’s cute.
Vintage Deer Multi Hook
Online Only
$14.99(Was $29.00)
I would totally use this during the holidays. I think of these as reindeer frolicking in snow. And I love that image.
Gregor Convertible Sofa
Online Only
$299.99(Was $549.00)
GAWD, I need a sofa. We have two chairs. We like to cuddle. It doesn’t work out so well. A couch would be a godsend–and this one is retro trendy and simple.
2×3 Welcome Home Rug
$9.99(Was $19.00)
This makes me happy–and I would love to put it outside the apartment. It would totally get ruined though, so I would settle for inside the door where the dog always lays.
London Map Collage Framed Print
Online Only
$19.99(Was $44.00)
Another map. Still like it.
Punched Loop Shelf
Online Only
Urban Exclusive
$24.00
I would put a plant and some books on it and it would make me feel so domestic and adorable. I feel like a 50′s housewive in an apron looking at it.
Byron Coffee Table
Online Only
Urban Exclusive
$59.99(Was $129.00)
I like that I can put magazines and crossword puzzle books in there. We have no coffee table and it’s cute. I typically like black furniture, but I don’t find this wood color offensive.
Twin Bell Alarm Clock
$4.99(Was $38.00)
I have a serious addiction to clocks and watches. In my old house I had a wall of clocks. I LOVE them. And that’s bizarre because I never know what time it is and I’m always late. *shrugs*
Cooperative Artisan Rolling Luggage
$99.99(Was $149.00)
I have NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO idea why I like this. I hate the color pink. So. So. So. Much. But, I weirdly want it. What’s happening to me?
Cupcakes Keycaps
$4.99(Was $8.00)
Meg and I are huge dorks–and we have two keys that look almost identical at night. One is the mail box key and the other the house key. Having key caps would really help us out. And these are cupcakes. I’d be afraid Meg might try to eat one if she got hungry, though.
Bamboo Computer Keyboard
$49.99(Was $80.00)
I have literally NO need for this. But, I want it….
I have had a lot to drink. But, not nearly as much as my fiance. I can still form coherent sentences.
I don’t know how to deal with my relationship issues. “Lost in Translation” does a better job. I’ve been with this girl for two years and I still don’t know what is happening. This is mainly because every therapist of mine has been more interested in me than my relationship. I never understood this theoretical deduction. Clearly, if someone has found me promising in every one of my three relationships–I had something worth noticing–and clearly it wasn’t my looks!
But, recently I have been confronted….
My fiance has said that I’m not worth the effort. And I kind of can see her perspective, because I don’t feel that I’m worth very much. I don’t think I’ve proven myself as worth anything more than what my parents’ provide. I abscond this position of high and mighty, just because my girlfriend’s parent’s have wealth.
I prefer to live the way I was brought up. I have dinner at a kitchen table with a plate of vegetables and a lean meat w/ iced tea. And that suffices me. But, when I visit her family (yeah, I am gay), her family gets mad and upset with me if I do not partake in a fine wine, sushi and proper table ware. What is a girl to do????
She never reads these posts. So, I can talk my god-damn most. She is totally afraid of the flight, as I restrain… afraid of the fight
I love her now. No matter when. She is the best woman that, I’ve ever laid my eyes in my whole life. She knows. How to change
a life. She might know that she’s listening then. But, I don’t care I’m listening then. I hear that they’ll stay up all night, and I know
that I’ll stay up night, listening to what’s going on, listening to what’s wrong or right. I dont’ know how that I can change. I can only
hope that I’ll arange…something where you’ll stay so safe and strong, where you will know what’s right and wrong
and where you’ll come safe night and day. and so you can come exchange, the nerdiness of you and I
the weirdness of the place that we call home and that’s our home and that’s ok… and you’ll remember
why you came…
I love you, Megan. Please remember that. Forever. I’m sorry, I am a dork. I am cheesy. But, I love you so much! And a lot of people think I am funny, so there!
At night, while the re-ran DVD repeats time after time, I do have questions. These are questions that you cannot answer because you are asleep beyond the task of awakening. I couldn’t if I tried. And I wonder… if I were to awaken you from this slumber, would you look at me differently? Differently than when you fell asleep? Different than when you stumbled home? Would you love me in a different way? Would you love me then? I never choose to see, if this may be. I’m too scared too carry on. Instead I lay my hands, far away from his. And hope this never ends. I love the girl that comes home. Who hates the alone. The one who will never leave. The one that holds me close. Says she will never oppose the times I have to leave. She is the one. The only girl, I ever will love. The one, the only, girl I’ll come cross. The one, the only girl, I will love. But she doesn’t know.
And here she sits on top this bed of sin, we aren’t of faith… the one thing I can’t give.. to her family… She is a-top this bed of sin.
And I will not touch her, forever, if that’s what it takes. To make this marriage right. I cannot wait. But, if I must…than I will wait my whole damn life.
I love you, Meg. More than you will ever EVER know. Kisses.
There are nights and moments you wish to forget. There are times that you say things you don’t mean or don’t say things that you mean. Tonight, for me, was one of those nights. I sit here now–alone. I’m surrounded by nothing but the laugh tracks of idiotic laugh tracks, the sound of carbonation in my soda can, and that eerie sound of silence. But, for me… I never truly understand the term “white noise,” for I live next to a hospital–literally in the same parking lot as the main hospital for Conroe. I hear ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars all night. They comfort me.
But, so far, tonight… nothing.
Right now…nothing but the clock ticks.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
It keeps informing me that time is passing, but I’m not resting. I’ve ignored it for almost a year–why start now? This is my way of ignoring that which I cannot and should not ignore. I am getting older.
I went trick-or-treating with my niece the other evening. She is going to be two on December 23rd. Two years old. What kind of future will she be prescribed to endure? Who knows? But, that is a question for a different blog. However, I stated at one point…. how old I felt…. And my sister immediately retorted with, “Well, you are old now.” And I realized that she is, in fact, correct. I am old. I am almost twenty-six years old and have absolutely nothing worthwhile in my life.
I almost vomited at the knowledge of this fact. I have, literally, wasted the last eight years of life trying to “find myself.” So far, I’ve come up with nothing.
This is entirely humorous–because I look at my facebook friends and realize that everyone I knew in H.S. has a prestigious job and a enviable degree. O.K. For those who don’t know… I was a 4.0 GPA graduate in all AP classes from a 5-A high school in Texas. I had the credentials to survive in this competitive world, but didn’t get far enough to show my peacock wings. I just gave up.
Yeah. I worked really hard for that co-valedictorian status. Then, I quit. It wasn’t something planned. It wasn’t something I was encouraged to do. It wasn’t even something that I even wanted. It just happened. You ever see the film “Series of Unfortunate Events?” No? Well. That was me.
A series of unfortunate events.
One) Feel unloved and ugly.
Two) Become anorexic
Three) Drop Out because Too Skinny
Four) Start up at A&M
Five) Come Out
Six) Become Gay and Anorexic
Seven) Go to England on Parent’s tuition
Eight) **** School
Nine) Unemployed, sad, and, and disinterested in everything
Ten) Sign me up for the Hunger Games.
Seriously…. I’ve wasted all my time here. I have so much left to give but no admirable or effective way to give it…? I want to help everyone, but no one can inform how to make a living while helping. I watch these shows on National Geographic or other comparable channels about those who give their entire lives to aiding in the rescue, rehabilitation and subsequent adoption of dogs/cats…. but, I cannot seem to find the venue to do that. I certainly do not have the money to donate–nor the ability to donate unpaid hours to the cause. But, that’s all I want to do. All I want to do is help. All I want to do is help those who have no voice–whether it be children or animals. It makes no difference.
So, anyone reading this blog–I’ve been faced with many adversaries… I’ve been the victim of domestic abuse. I’ve been the victim of rape. I’ve been the victim of infidelity. I’ve been the victim of a lot of things. But, I’ve never been wronged by a dog or a cat that I hadn’t earned it from. I’ve been bitten by dogs and cats, but only by those that never had a chance to be properly socialized. So, I’d love to help. Any where and how in East-Texas area. I lost a dog, “White Dog,” to the “system.” And I want to prevent that happening again. Ask me about her, if you wish. :) Thanks! And… Gig’ Em Ags!
This is an extremely tough entry for me to write. In actuality, I am still having doubts as to whether or not committing these thoughts and experiences to print is a wise decision at all. But, I am also aware that if I don’t… if these feelings, emotions and reflections continue to fester and exist purely within the confines of my mind–I may very well go mad.
So, I am doing what I must to achieve just a semblance of peace. My brain these days is a muddled maze of uncertainties. I can’t solve one internal conflict without another equally daunting challenge presenting itself. This disarray has proven to be incredibly dizzying. The world around me switches between full-throttle and stagnant. Time is either whirring by me at speeds incalculable by man or inching by at a languid crawl. I can’t keep up with the frequent inconsistencies.
It’s been this way for fifteen days now. My mind and body have both been unfrozen. I am no longer in suspended animation. I walk now and I feel the concrete beneath my feet. I speak and can easily replay the words in my head. I step outside and can hear and observe the sounds around me. I am no longer in a perpetual haze. I am no longer held captive by my alcohol dependency. I am effectively sober.
No one told me it would be this hard.
I’ve spared everyone the details of my battle with drinking over the past two years for many reasons.
1) I hate attention–especially negative attention. Most of the time if I post something on facebook that involves politics, unpopular opinion, religion, touchy topics, etc. I will never read responses that people post. I don’t care to debate. I don’t care to read something that I may find personally insulting. I just don’t want my self-image being affected any more than it has to be.
2) It was no one’s business. I knew the entire time I had a problem. I knew that what I was partaking in was not normal, responsible, healthy, safe, or positive in any way whatsoever. It was and is still an embarrassment to myself. It was a major issue for everyone in my life and became a giant elephant in every room I entered.
3. Most of all I kept the official diagnosis hidden because I just could not handle any more criticism or judgment from those who think that they knew me or the unfortunate situations that I found myself in. I already deal with scrutiny from people in my life on a daily basis. And just the idea of one more individual attacking my decisions was unbearable. Those who knew… knew. And those who did know also understood that there was nothing they could do about it other than voice their concern and disapproval.
So, I kept my mouth shut and my hands tied behind my back. As long as I kept imbibing copious amount of liquor with increasing regularity I saw no reason to make mention of the seriousness of these problems because there really was nothing to gain from it.
I will now provide some back-story to supplement the experiences that would lead up to this posting. It might help explain some things and as a result might actually help me sort through some of my own confusion with the process. I’ll try to keep it succinct, but bear with me–as some of these memories have lain dormant for some time now:
Two years ago this month my life changed dramatically. I started to drink heavily, frequently and irresponsibly. Moderation has never been my strong suit. Addiction comes quickly and without warning. I cling to these obsessions, these habits and these routines until reformation becomes virtually impossible without some serious form of intervention–and even then there is no telling if success will be a possibility at all. I’ve hopped from compulsion to compulsion and vice to vice where each one acted as a substitute for another.
I’ve been this way my entire life. I use these infatuations as crutches to support me, as blindfolds to shield me from reality, as painkillers to numb my emotions, and as plastic surgery to carve out a sense of identity for myself. In middle school I didn’t just like Star Wars but became completely enveloped in a world that revolved around the fantasy series. I collected all of the memorabilia, I memorized every fact and figure about the characters, vehicles, planets, and so on, I wrote fan-fiction, I spent all of my money on SW related products, etc. etc. This was my life. This was my identity. This pattern would repeat itself multiple times throughout subsequent years with film, Kate Winslet, Ireland, Brandi Carlile, James Dean, Blink 182, etc. I couldn’t just stop at appreciating or admiring these people, places and things. I had to go one step further. I was always taking things too far. The line between healthy and obsession blurred for me. But, at the time it gave me purpose and an area of interest to devote my time to.
Those were rather harmless examples of my inability to moderate myself. My constant struggle with finding middle ground would go on to manifest itself in more dangerous and detrimental ways once I hit college. It was here that my freedom coupled with my blatant mental instability would amalgamize into a monolithic obstacle.
To summarize the downhill nature of my first couple of years at school…
I have always been good at sports. I may not have been good enough to compete professionally or even on the collegiate level, but there is no denying the fact that I’m athletically gifted. I’m swift, nimble, agile, quick-thinking, coordinated and competitive. I had participated in basketball almost year round since I was in the 2nd grade. I was always thin, slender and muscular because I was constantly engaged in a very rigorous and demanding sport. Thus, when I went away to school I gained some weight. Not a lot. Not enough to where any normal person would notice, but I did. I had almost no friends nor a way to meet any. I had a poor complexion. I had nothing interesting going on in my life. I was bored. I had nothing going for me. So, I focused all of my attention on something that I absolutely knew I could control: my body. I’ve never denied being vain. Appearance is important to me because I feel that it’s the only thing that I can offer someone. I’m almost completely unskilled or able to engage others in any way. So, my train of thought was: make self more attractive, feel more confident, project confidence, garner interest from prospective date and/or hiring manager, profit.
So, I started cutting calories. I concentrated on portion control and incorporating more exercise into my routines. It began rather harmlessly, but then I became addicted to the results. After that I just couldn’t get thin enough. I began to feel guilty if I ate anything at all. I moderated my calories to the point where I would refuse to eat more than 800 a day. My brain became my worst enemy and dysmorphia began to cloud my vision. It didn’t matter if a size double-zero at Aeropostale required a belt to stay up on my hips. Or that my spine protruded from the sunken sallow skin of my back. I didn’t seem to care that the room would spin and I would almost faint upon standing. It seemed perfectly normal that all the notes I took while in class consisted of adding up calorie counts and writing grocery lists. Sure, I slept more than I should have, wore sweatshirts in the summer, and feared having to go out to eat with my friends more than anything in the world. But, I was skinny.
88 pounds skinny. In a year I had seen my weight dwindle down from 135 pounds to 88. Almost fifty pounds on a 5’5″ formerly muscular frame.
It was a really tough time for everyone. My family was afraid of the health consequences. And despite finally achieving what I thought I wanted–I wasn’t happy and I was too afraid of outside judgment to be comfortable going out looking the way I did. These photos don’t portray the dire nature of the situation. The truly horrific images are going to stay put away where they belong.
I finally pulled myself out of this particular period of darkness only to find myself quickly careening to the other extreme. I refused to seek any sort of professional treatment and instead decided to tackle it myself. So, I started to eat. And then I found myself eating too much. Apparently it’s quite common for a recovering anorexic to find themselves slipping into a state of binge-eating. And this is what happened with me. Not coming to terms with the underlying reasons for the initial disorder led to my clinging to another. I began to use food as a coping mechanism. I abused it in order to satiate the emptiness and loneliness that would continue to plague me. After work, every night, I would go to the grocery store and buy boxes of cereal… not one, not two, but three. And I would sit there on my computer, staying up until morning, while stuffing my face with handful after handful of cereal. I would then either eat nothing the next day or force an emetic down my throat and spend the afternoon involuntarily vomiting. This was undoubtedly worse than not eating at all. It was expensive. It was stressful. It was unhealthy. It was embarrassing. It was just another example of my inability to moderate any aspect of my life. I gained a ton of weight after doing this for over a year. The damage I’ve done to my metabolism throughout those periods is immeasurable. I still do not eat like a normal person. My weight still fluctuates. But, the progress that I have made is incredible. It’s the one area of my crazy that I might actually have finally tackled.
It was during the aforementioned episodes that my school career went from fruitful and successful to non-existent. I tried to take time off to heal myself but never did get back in the swing of things. And if I don’t get all A’s and high B’s then I’d rather fail out. *smacks head*
Continuing on:
In the spring of 2007 I admitted and accepted the fact that I was gay. I had known that I was attracted to women long before this, but for a multitude of reasons I just didn’t put much thought or effort into it. I hated myself too much to want a relationship. My family’s approval was of the utmost importance to me. I had no gay role-models, friends, acquaintances, etc. I was going to one of, if not the most, conservative schools in a very conservative area. I was scared. I was ashamed. I was confused. I just did whatever I could to avoid the situation entirely. But, eventually I just came out to myself and that was that. I had never so much as held hands with another girl at that point, but I knew and was sure about it. So, I sought out support any way I could, which was when I found a wonderful online community that proved to be an extremely pivotal point in my adult life. It was through here that I would meet my first girlfriend and begin my first real relationship.
Despite the tumult and irreconcilable differences that plagued and would eventually spell out the demise of this 1.5 year long courtship… I experienced love and stability for the first time in years. It felt good. It felt right. I was happy and cared for. I was with an incredible woman who I admired and looked up to. It was a very important time for me. But, a little over two years ago the dissolution of this relationship took place. Unsurprisingly, this was my fault. I truly am responsible for every misstep I have taken on my life’s journey thus far.
Without going into much detail… it was my own anxieties and insecurities that ruined everything. I was too scared to try new things, too shy to go out with her friends, too self-loathing to instill trust in her, too stubborn to try and change and too much of a coward to end it the right way. So, I lost everything. I lost my future, I lost my partner, I lost a friend, I lost a home, I lost a cat, and I lost hope.
When I knew the end was quickly approaching I started to seek out solace in any way I could find it. I found a group of like-minded, lesbian, interesting and spirited individuals in College Station. I liked them and at the time I thought they liked me. I began spending more and more time with this group and in turn began to lose more and more of what I used to like about myself. I stopped caring about anyone but me. I was reckless. I was stupid. I was essentially making up for lost time that I had spent alone in my room. I finally had friends. I would have done anything for acceptance–and I did. I became a liar, a cheater, a stereotypical lesbian slut, a drunk, a homewrecker, etc. I had transformed into someone I despised. But, I couldn’t turn back. I couldn’t quit. I was addicted to the care-free nature of it all. There is something initially thrilling about that type of existence.
Luckily for me that entire situation proved to be ephemeral. However, the drinking continued on…
What began as a way to quell my social awkwardness while partying it up with strangers led to full-on dependency. No two ways about it. I used to be able to control it. I would know when to stop. I would drink intermittently. I would take a few days off after a night of debauchery. And then one day I could no longer regulate it. It just happened. I found myself the villain once again in the relationship I was in. I had fallen in love with two people… two people who happened to be exes themselves. I was too weak to make a decision of breaking it off with my girlfriend and taking the chance on the other girl–so I strung them both along. I was a horrible vile human being. And I was using the alcohol to avoid dealing with the crushing guilt and emotional despair that would have accompanied this situation otherwise. I didn’t want to feel anymore. I didn’t want to be me. Vodka helped with this. Or so I thought.
During this time I found myself completely entangled in this web of crazy I had constructed. I ruined so much in such a short period of time. I broke hearts. I broke friendships. I broke promises. I mutilated myself with razors, glass, or whatever sharp object I could get my hands on. These drastic measures stemmed from the need to feel SOMETHING, from an overwhelming longing to free myself from this crippling guilt, from the twisted desire to have my outer shell match the gnarled decaying darkness that existed internally. I have to live with these scars for the rest of my life. I have people stop me in the supermarket to inquire about the origin of the multiple disfigurements on my left arm. Children stare at them. I can never wear a swim-suit again because of the hideous nature of the scar on my upper leg. It wasn’t just the superficiality of the wounds, but the fact that one almost killed me and landed me a stint in a psychiatric ward that proved most detrimental.
This was in April of 2010.
After that my drinking escalated more and more until it became all I did and all I could do. In recent months my girlfriend and I would go through a 1.75 liter bottle of vodka every other day. Since she would be at work the bulk of the day–I would be the main consumer of the liquor. I’d wake up and start taking shots until I would pass out. I would wake up from that and drink more. The cycle kept repeating. I would go to work drunk. I became what is known as a functional alcoholic. I was adept if not extremely proficient at my job. I was able to carry out thoughtful, intellectual and insightful conversations about a breadth of topics. I could easily pass a physical sobriety test. And had learned to control my emotions to the point where I was consistently stable and complacent.
I was having fun. I’m a funny drunk. I laugh more. I enjoy more. I’m outgoing. I want to see and be around people. I feel more confident and more willing to try new things. But, I reached a point where I stopped being able to remember chunks of time. Days, weeks, and months would run together. I would get violently ill from withdrawal within a few hours after last drinking. I was no longer strictly emotionally addicted, but physically as well.
Two weeks ago I hit a brick wall. After running out of alcohol early in the morning (5am-ish) I began to experience extremely terrifying withdrawal symptoms that could not be quelled. I began to hear things. I wasn’t hearing “voices” per se. But, was encountering what I would eventually learn was a phenomenon called “musical hallucinations.” I had been having these episodes a few days prior without having any clue that they were coming from within my mind.
I had been complaining to Megan about how I could hear the music and television shows that our neighbors were listening to or watching. I found this curious because it had never been an issue before, but nonetheless I in no way doubted my observations. She claimed to not hear them, but she has shoddy hearing so I just chalked it up to my superior auditory senses. I would be able to make out songs quite clearly… patriotic music, Dora the Explorer, Ke$ha, football games, oldies, talk radio, etc. I even facebooked about being able to hear them listening to a football broadcast one morning. This turned out to be part of these hallucinations. I heard the same play-by-play about thirty times over the next few days.
It wasn’t until I decided to go on a run that the truth made itself known to the logical part of my brain. I was hearing the song “Staying Alive” blaring out of every door I passed in our apartment complex. I was hearing lines from movies or parts of a strange conversation repeating and echoing from the meadow and the trees. I heard my name being said by my dad and by Megan. I kept seeing shadowy entities out of the corner of my eye. The song selections kept changing. I can’t recall all the tunes I heard during that forty five minute run, but I was scared. I was crying while running. I had no idea what was happening or any idea as to how to make it stop.
I made a decision right then and there that I was done. The next couple of days I had to keep asking Megan if things I were hearing were real or not. I couldn’t hold a pencil or a glass of water because my hands were shaking so much. I stayed up for four days in a row because I couldn’t sleep. But, eventually these symptoms would dissipate.
And now it’s been fifteen days without so much as a sip of alcohol. Megan even brought some into the house the other night and I resisted having even one drink. Granted, it’s only been two weeks… but I hadn’t gone more than three days in two years. So, to me… it’s an accomplishment.
Healthwise I feel better, but mentally I’m as unstable as ever. The sad but honest truth is that I hardly know who I am anymore. I’ve spent two years completely under the influence of a depressant. I’ve been its puppet. Megan has dated me for over 1.5 years and has never truly known the real me. She doesn’t understand this. She insists it’s always been me, but I know that it hasn’t. I abused alcohol for the sole purpose of avoiding being me. The real me still doesn’t exist. I’m comfortable around so few people. Even around my own family I have trouble ever feeling entirely at ease. That’s just me. That’s who I am. It takes years of constant and consistent interaction with someone for my true colors to emerge. And people rarely have that kind of patience. I’m a tough nut to crack.
Things have been tough here since I stopped drinking. I feel as though I do not know Megan anymore. I’m viewing it as starting the relationship from scratch. So much of our history together was spent drunk. We were always having fun, laughing, goofing off and talking incessantly–because that’s what I do when I drink. I turn into a social person. When I’m sober I am much more reserved, much more of a quiet observer, more of a thinker than a doer. I am not as easily amused or entertained. I am shy. I am less willing to accept flaws or to ignore or brush off annoyances. I don’t forget things and instead dwell on them until they turn into a bigger problem. I’m having a tough time adjusting. The problems are arising from the fact that I am at a loss of things to talk about with her, that our conversations have become almost non-existent, that I’m not as affectionate physically or emotionally, that I’m distant, that she doesn’t feel loved, etc. And I cannot deny any of these allegations. All of them are true and I’m aware of each as being a huge issue that must be addressed at some point.
It’s a terrifying thing to think about. Sobriety is important for me and for my future. But, at what cost? I know that there are many stages that one goes through during a recovery period of this magnitude. Who I am today will not be who I am in a month…. But, who will arise from these ashes? Will it be someone who can fulfill her needs as a loving and caring partner? Will it be someone who recovers the ambition and drive that she once possessed? Will it be someone who finally stumbles upon the path that has remain elusive up ’til this juncture? Or will it be my time to pay for all the harm that I have caused others during the past six years? Will I lose it all?
Now that my brain is fully under my control again I am finding it difficult to escape my thoughts. There are a million things going on at once in there and my body is struggling to keep up with the ever expanding list of tasks to accomplish, projects to begin and bridges to mend. Fingers crossed everybody. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.
Saddest of all… I no longer wake up in the morning feeling like P.Diddy.
Things That I Desperately Need for my Cheap Apartment:
We are poor. We have a crappy apartment. We are hardly investing in our future here. So, this is my attempt to find decent looking substitutes for little cash by shopping at places that cater to our frugality. One day I’ll get that Pottery Barn dresser or that Restoration Hardware coffee table. But, until then we will shop at real people stores. Everything represented on this list is from Target, Ikea, Walmart, Urban Outfitters, West Elm, CB2, etc. Nothing too expensive. Nothing too showy.
1. Key Rack.
I am always losing my keys. I don’t even necessarily mean losing in the sense of misplacing them somewhere in our 750sq ft apartment. I mean… losing them as in I’ve had stores mail them back to me at more than one occasion. I’m absent-minded. My brain is always being pulled in several different directions at once and the part that is assigned the role of paying attention to any detail of mundanity whatsoever has been on holiday for, um, ever. So, I need all the help I can get. Upon entering our humble abode directly to the right is a pony-wall with a six or seven inch ledge that we just empty our pockets onto upon arrival. This isn’t working out for us. We have one teensy weensy basket that serves as a catch-all for EVERYTHING. It’s stuffed to the brim with coins, dog poop bags, sunglasses, wallets, keys, schedules, leashes, phones, etc. We need order here.
Ikea: $14.99
Urban Outfitters: $39.99
Urban Outfitters: $12.00
Urban Outfitters: $8.00
Urban Outfitters: $20.00
Anthropologie: $12.99
2. Vases:
I’m a sucker for vases and flowers. I grew up in a home where the beauty of nature was revered and gardening was just a way of life. Unfortunately, real flowers and plants are essentially out of the question here. But, that is just completely unsatisfactory! I need the color. I need the glass reflecting the sunlight. I need the feeling of the outdoors to assuage my cooped up soul. So, I am forced by necessity to invest in artificial plants. I do my best to steer away from tacky. These little bursts of color do so much to break up the spartan stark nature of this white and beige apartment.
Ikea: $3.99
Ikea: $14.99
Walmart: $49.99
Urban Outfitters: $29.00
Target: $6.74
Target: $59.99
Urban Outfitters: $19.00
West Elm: $6.00
West Elm: $19.00-$29.99
3. Coin-Dish:
We are the type of people who rely on debit cards almost exclusively to pay for purchases. But, I cannot even begin to tell you how many times we find ourselves checking our wallets for spare change for one reason or another. This, of course, makes little sense considering we have a stockpile of change strewn about the house. We definitely need a little dish where we can place all of the coins together in a little happy family. And owls are cute.
Urban Outfitters: $6.00
West Elm: $6.00-$16.00
4. Mugs:
Somehow in our many moves we have lost and/or broken most of our mugs. Coffee and I used to have a very special relationship, but ended up growing apart and eventually separating completely. Thus, mugs stopped being an essential element to my daily life. However, recently our bond has once again strengthened and I am in the market for a brand new mugaboo. I’m the first to admit I’m a bit of a coffee cup snob. I’m ok admitting this. Some are too big. Some are too small. Some are too stupid. Some are too weirdly shaped. Some are too ugly. Some make no sense to me. I had two that I loved. One was the “1 gallon” blood donation mug I received in high school and the other was a New York City Empire State souvenir mug. The former disappeared and the latter was broken. I need mugs.
Ikea: $1.49
Walmart: $20.00 (for 2)
Walmart: $29.99
Walmart: $16.00
West Elm: $10.00
West Elm: $6.00
Urban Outfitters: $12.00
Anthropologie: $8.00
5. Plates, Cups, Bowls and the like:
We do dishes almost every day. But, somehow we still never have any dinnerware in the cabinets. Not to mention that our microwave is essentially equivalent to putting food outside on a hot rock to heat up. I think it was made in the 80′s. It has no rotating tray and has gone on to crack almost all of our “microwave safe” plates.
West Elm: $8.00
West Elm: $20.00
Ikea: $2.99
Ikea: $3.99
Ikea: $4.99
Urban Outfitters: $6.00
Ikea: $2.99
West Elm: $8.00
West Elm: $8.00
Anthropologie: $8.00
CB2: $3.99
Target: $19.99
6. Shower/Bathroom Organizational Tools:
I have never been to the Container Store, but I can guarantee you I would be completely overwhelmed by the awesome. I love organization. I love order. I love clean. I love neat. And I can never keep the shower area as tidy as I would like. I hate having clutter on the edges of the tub. The shampoo will leak and leave sticky residue. The razors and shaving cream leave rust marks. There’s nowhere to hang the loofah. It’s just way too stressful for me. This is such a cheap solution that I cannot believe has eluded me all these years. And while we’re at it–let’s just get rid of the ridiculous stainless steel toothbrush holder/waste basket situation that we have going on. Stainless steel is the worst! Finger prints finger prints finger prints!
Ikea: $6.99
Walmart: $35.00
Walmart: $13.00
Walmart: $16.00
Target: $70.00
Walmart: $19.99
Walmart: $39.99
Ikea: $9.99
Target: $39.99
ModCloth: $24.99
West Elm: $39.99
CB2: $29.99
7. Rug:
Now, I have a rug. I’ve been very fortunate to always receive my older sister’s hand-me-downs in this area. I have an attractive rug with fairly neutral colors currently in my living room. I have no qualms with it per se. But, I’ve also had this same rug for six years. And it has been marred once or twice by a renegade vacuum cleaner that left some intense divot marks on the top. Rugs can be very pricey, but because I’m more concerned with superficiality rather than longevity–these would definitely do the trick. I always have to be careful about dog-fur showing though
Ikea: $19.99
Walmart: $69.99
Walmart: $69.99
Target: $150.00
Urban Outfitters: $49.99
8. Place-mats:
We have few possessions of great quality. Most of our furniture and the like comes from big-box stores: Target, Walmart, etc. But, Megan actually has a really nice dining room table. It’s a beautiful piece of furniture. We are not “sit down and have a formal meal” type of folks. We find ourselves much more content sitting on the chairs in the living room, doing crosswords with one another, watching Netflix and otherwise satiating our ADD brains. But, I do appreciate the aesthetics of it and want to capitalize on the attractive nature of if by making it a show-stopping focal point. UNFORTUNATELY, other than some Pottery Barn plates, a rag-tag bunch of assorted flatware, three wine glasses, and a modernized center piece…it’s barren. Place-mats are a start!
Ikea: $2.99
Urban Outfitters: $3.00
Target: $9.99
Target: $39.99 (4)
9. Entertainment Console:
We are lucky to have nice electronics. Our television isn’t HUGE, but it’s close to 40 inches and has a really great picture. We also have a Wii, Xbox 360 and PS3. So, our console is pretty full with games, systems, etc. The current piece of furniture housing it all is actually a sofa table I had purchased from Target a few years ago:
It is currently selling for $140 from Target’s website and is part of the Georgetown Collection. We also had the corresponding coffee table: ($120)
Please do not buy these. I know that I am advocating buying inexpensive pieces in lieu of a higher caliber product. But, if I am paying over a hundred dollars for something I want it to not just fall apart on me. ESPECIALLY, if it’s something like furniture that is rarely moved or messed with. The coffee table lost all of its legs and had to have them all gorilla glued on. And the console table has a noticeable separation where one of the drawers is super lopsided and has to be hammered from the bottom to close the gap every day. Meg had turned the coffee table into an art piece after it broke last time:
But… when we moved from College Station we couldn’t fit it in the car and then never made it back there to pick it up. So, we are fairly certain that Mr. Table has met an untimely demise. So, we need new pieces of furniture for our place. A coffee table is essential so that we can stop using our ottoman as a place for plates and cups–a bad idea to begin with and an even worse idea with a ridiculously wiggly dog and a food-obsessed cat. And a console is a must to hold up all of our prized possessions!
Ikea: $199.99
Target: $189.99
Walmart: $39.99
Walmart: $199.99
Ikea: $19.99
Target: $129.99
Walmart: $89.99
10. Art:
Luckily, I have a fiance who is a brilliant artist (check out her stuff here: http://www.redbubble.com/people/strobot), so typically I do not ever need to purchase any pieces for the walls. I am more than proud for our home to be adorned with the love, effort and brilliance that emanates from her works. But, I can’t help but love framed posters, prints and photographs. So, we try to strike a balance. I know that when I look at Pottery Barn or House Beautiful magazine that clean, crisp and clutter-free are the way to go in regards to wall-art. And when I move in to my first real house that will be the direction I take. However, at this point in time, I love having all of the canvases and framed pieces greet me when I come home. They make me happy and that’s really all that matters.
Ikea: $9.99
Ikea: $12.00
Target: $39.99
Target: $59.99
Walmart: $31.99
Urban Outfitters: $24.00
Urban Outfitters: $24.00
West Elm: $49.99-$69.99
11. Mirror:
We have the world’s coolest, fanciest, most beautiful mirror. BUT, it’s so huge and heavy that we have no where to put it. So, we have to store it and find an alternative. Something smaller, but with just as much appeal. I hope that it will make the space look bigger if placed correctly.
Walmart: $20.00
Walmart: $56.00
Target: $28.99
Bed Bath and Beyond: $39.99
Bed Bath and Beyond: $29.99
12. Comforter:
We don’t NEED one, but I’ve had the same one for several years now and it’s seen better days. I never was a fan of it. Never will be.
I know that when I look at Pottery Barn or House Beautiful magazine that clean, crisp and clutter-free are the way to go in regards to wall-art. And when I move in to my first real house that will be the direction I take. However, at this point in time, I love having all of the canvases and framed pieces greet me when I come home. They make me happy and that’s really all that matters.
