diary-of-an-addict

[diary-of-an-addict]

I’ve always been partial to the poem about people being in your life for a season, a reason, or a lifetime.

It’s funny because even with my liking to this poem I often forget that I am a season person.

I’ve always struggled to make and maintain lasting relationships. It’s almost as if the majority of not all the people I encounter no matter how much I want them to stay around are merely there to either teach me a lesson or be there and gone when things benefit them.

I learned this lesson again recently. It was my daughter 1st birthday and of course I have a new group of friends found where most adults do in my place of employment so that’s who I invite. Yet attending a 1 year olds birthday isn’t exciting. And neither is supporting your supposed friend on the first anniversary of what was likely one of the most traumatic days of her life, but they don’t see those thoughts those feelings. Or maybe they do and they just don’t care.

I often find myself remembering a time when my life was much more hectic yet I was so happy the people in my life some still even around like family to me. The people who continue to cheer me on from a far but always show up when you need them. Why is it so easy for me to forget about them and be so upset about those who obviously don’t even care.

I feel like I’m drowning within my mind. My thoughts float away from my mind and quickly as I think them lately.

It’s like I have a flickering bulb in my brain one minute it’s on then the next it’s blank. I’ve felt this shut off once before. Unable to remember door codes I had set the day before.

I’m sinking into the darkness and I have no where to turn so here I am again writing words. I come here every couple months spill the thoughts that flow through my mind. I wonder if anyone reads this probably not so I just continue to write.

Pointless complaints about a mind so broken even humpty dumptys men couldn’t put it back together again.

I’m a burden. A strain on my family, a menace as a mom, a train wreck as a daughter, used to be the only thing I did right was work and I can’t even do that anymore.

I drown my sorrows without the ability to stop but why would I want to it’s the only thing that seems to care and want to take away this pain I’m in.

You always hear check on your strong friends. Don’t forget to check in with the happy one of the group. Blah blah blah yeah that’s me smiling on the outside while inside I want to die of a thousand cuts. Never allowing anyone to get close enough to me to know the darkness that lies within. Maybe that’s the problem I don’t let people be lifetime friends. It must be my fault why people can’t be there for me. I’m too awkward, annoying, clingy. Too soft spoken to express my needs or boundaries then when I do if they are questioned I just put them back in the padded box they came from because why do my needs care when they obviously are interfering with what someone else is trying to do.

I fucking hate myself and i wish so badly I didn’t but I do. I try so hard to be the person everyone wants me to but while doing so I’ve lost sight of myself. The things I love, and simply enjoy to do. Im miserable in my own skin but the sad thing is I don’t see another way.

[diary-of-an-addict]

Sometimes I wonder why I don’t just end it.

I have the life I’ve always wanted yet I feel more alone then I ever have.

My husband would rather talk to stranger on the internet for hours then spend a waking moment with me that’s not a chore.i guess that’s not far off from what I’m doing now cuz we all know I’d never be able to tell him the things going through my mind. I doubt he would even care. I showed him this page once I’m sure he’s forgot but I did try to open up he just wasn’t interested. If it’s not sex or videos games he couldn’t care less.

I tell myself I stay for my daughter but even she would probably be better if I wasn’t around.

I wanted to be a mom so bad and yet it seems as if my mind and my body knew something I didn’t I wasn’t built for this. I wasn’t built for life.

[diary-of-an-addict]

When you work in a space dedicated to helping people recover, there is this innate sense of loyalty for those who are currently struggling that you just don’t see in non-afflicted types.

A drive a fight to pull someone’s mind and soul from the depth of the hell their brain has them trapped in no matter the fight.

Then in some a sad turning point hits. as they get further and further from the pain and hopelessness that has directed the show of their lives for so long, you see a mental switch. It’s like the brain completely forgets oand looses the ability to empathize with the sick.

The fight for getting these people, their own people! becomes watered down a slow leak from a rusty sink.

. Part of a class of people who are medically acknowledged in the dsm5 then shunned by insurance and not recognized by society. And even their own people have lost the ability to show them empathy.

Symptoms brushed off or put into question. Reverted blame placed back on them for thoughts & behaviours that are actually insane, but it’s your own fault you should get help.

That’s what I’m trying to do!

Oh my my I didn’t mean here or really anywhere you see, we say we cover things like this but really what we mean is at home alone maybe on zoom.

when attempting to over come their disability, symptoms are twisted and shoved down their throats told they are their own fault if the existence isn’t questioned first.

This is a disease that many struggle with and majority of society even those who have never experienced it first hand have strong opinions on.

How do you know so much yet you know so little?

Why is my life not worth even a little?

shunned and mocked in public, locked away in jails, refused treatment coverage by insurance, then questioned when they still can’t get better.

The overdose death rate since 2021 has doubled the death rate of gun related violence and vehicle deaths combined. yet society continues to to treat those who suffer as leapers.

How do I live in a world where those who have walked this path have lost the care to fight.

We used to pride ourselves on walking back into hell and bringing people out with us.

You know for such a woke generation I think you may have slept through your alarm clock.

I often question why I entered this field and I know the answer is to help those like me but what do I do if nothing I can do is actually helping these people.

A good intention again taken by man and turned into a game created to do nothing but help him gain.

Profit off of our pain, that’s insane isn’t it? Big pharma is just the same.

Monopolies food and drug. Feed us poison to make us sick, take meds that only mask the illness wash rinse repeat.

If we got better then why do you need me. Maybe that’s the name of the game we don’t want you to get better because then we loose.

I guess it’s time to get out of the game.

#mental health #substance abuse #spilled poety #poems on tumblr

[diary-of-an-addict]

If I had to depict my mind into a visualization it would a a person sitting in a pile of scattered blocks with memories and thoughts attached to each presenting with a flat or calm affect simultaneously with a smaller depiction of a frantic sitting person in the head of the other.

Chaos surrounds me I feel like my mind is split into different categories one constantly anxious trying to turn the lights out and just forget, another calm and logical trying to make a logical out come out of illogical circumstances, another off to the side blankly watching the caps surrounding while mindlessly numbing whatever thoughts and emotions come, another professional in appearance but riddled with fear of failure so controlling and perfectionism is pushed outwardly as a fake persona to cover the fear, another in a dark hoodie just standing there this is where the darkness within lies all the thoughts that are too dark to admit live there, then there is the me that’s at peace I’ve only met her a few times but she does exist I just don’t know how to collect all the pieces and put them together.

It’s like the memories of the people I’ve been all live within my mind scattered and broken unwilling to work together or unable to.

At times I feel like there are two of me one trapped in a box anxiously and frantically scratching and clawing to get out. So uncomfortable in my own skin I almost can’t function. At times of high stress it’s like the thing inside me is fighting so bad to get out that my brain slowly stops functioning starting with basic memory loosing train of thought and words.

#mentally unstable #mental illness #mental health #dark thoughts #depressing shit #tw depressing thoughts

[diary-of-an-addict]

I have seen three crows recently one in three different locations to be exact each time perched up or above my car.

I have also been dreaming of being pregnant which I’m not. They are not memories either bc I’m them I also have Tatum.

Change is coming or something is calling me I just don’t know what yet

[diary-of-an-addict]

Yesterday I attended a yoga retreat with sound healing. During my meditation the sound called to my soul in a way I’ve never known. I was transported to a battle field. I felt over whelmed, fierce, and in a state of awh looking down from a hill top over the bodies of friend and foe that lie dead from the obvious battle that had just happened.

Was this a vision or a soul memory. Either way something has awoken in me that I can’t explain. When thanking the teacher of the class at the end she took my hand with such familiarity as if we knew each other. So weird.

Last night I dreamed of a beta fish starting as a small tad pole like fish then transforming infront of my eyes the feathery wing like fins emerging making the fish which was also me but I was watching it happen from the outside too large for the small container it was in. Along side this happening there was a side story myself and a male counter part it always appears in my dream looking like Patrick but the personality doesn’t match but anyway there was a side story happening we were in a house which a huge yard they wouldn’t let us leave nothing was exactly wrong there but nothing was exactly right either and there was a short male whose home it was I believe telling us if we left we would not be aloud back in. An argument between myself and this male of the stupidity and inability to hold two people who had previously been imprisoned in this place as if it was just another prison trying to trick us into believing we were free. Eventually we left this place and we’re in a waist land it was as if the world was in dishevel nothing around. Just us and this little fish I had in a cup. That’s when the fish transformed into the fighting beta.

I’ve always known deep down there was something special about me. I know how that sounds and I guess the societal view is why I never truly dig into it. The fear of being viewed as crazier than I already am or deemed mentally I’ll with a God complex and being locked away. But that’s not it at all it’s just this inherent soul deep knowing that I was meant to do something important. What that thing is I have never known and still don’t. Yesterday��s experience tho has just solidified that there is something within me that needs to be awakened and learned about. I’ve always had a sick sense for the spiritual world ever since I was a child I saw and communicated with spirits. Been drawn to the idea of “magic” not in the sense we see on TV but natural healing arts through herb medicine, Meditation, movement, and working with the universe and nature to set and Drive intentions, and yes a little spell work or voodoo and the taro the tarp has always called to me. I remember at one point when I was younger I was convinced I was possessed because I was obsessed and uncontrollably making spirit communication boards and I was would make them and talk with spirits I had note books full of spirit communication rambles. I remember while doing that having this internal knowing and wisdom of what the ramblings meant even tho if you look back at them as I wrote them down the jumbled letters don’t make sense or words at all.

Idk what it all means but this might be the first of many dream diaries.

#dream diary #dream interpretation #warriors #spiritual awakening

[diary-of-an-addict]

I feed my depression with lyrics. Unholy tunes that remind me of my inevitable living doom.

It’s funny my darkness is “my least favorite” place in my mind yet while I’m hear I feed the beast as if to remain coasting in this place.

Lyrics that flood my brain with memories of a time that will only ever exist in my mind. Memories of a time, place, and person that no longer exists.

I think part of me likes the Chaos of this place. Why else would I continue to drink from these dark waters.

#dark thoughts #deep thoughts #depressing shit #tw depressing thoughts #wtf

[diary-of-an-addict]

I’ve been struggling to find meaning in this world I’ve created around me.

I find myself in a daily cycle of rinse and repeat again, only this time of my own creation. Everything I have is all I’ve ever wanted yet I’m back to a pit of emptiness with little ability to enjoy the miracles at hand.

“Your such a good person.” Someone told me the other day and I talked about the boxes of donation gifts I had in my garage while simultaneously trying to set up another donation drive for those with less than us.

It’s too bad she doesn’t realize I’m not intentionally trying to be a good person, but rather trying to make myself feel better through service.

Sometimes I miss my 12 step roots and wish so badly to go back to that time where I felt good in my own skin again.

I find myself miserable with myself and it’s impacting every aspect of my life, but I can’t seem to get myself out of this place not this time. I used to pride myself on the fact that I was a beacon of light where ever I went no matter the situation I was able to allow Gods light to shine through me. I know that’s still a possibility but I just feel so stuck in this dark place idk how I’ll get out.

It’s like I’m drowning in a pool of my own self loathing and I’ll drag anyone down that comes around me.

I had a mental break down last night. I just felt so isolated and Burnt out. My daughter is 7 months old with the mind set of a 4 month old. The crying wouldn’t stop her naps have become almost nonexistent and my husbands constant video game playing had me at my wits end. Then to top it off I walked in to the computer room after spending hours trying to put our daughter down to him masterbating watching porn on the computer. It’s not the action of him watching porn that upset me I think that was just the breaking point.

My mind flooded with so many thoughts.. how I hate my new body and resent the the thing that created it. How I hardly get a break longer than 30 minutes between my daughters barreling S reaches that seems to put every nerve ending I have at unease. I cracked… or maybe this is just the cycle. I come on here and write when I’m down it’s the closest thing I have to a journal. My writing tends to come in waves bipolar spurts but getting the thoughts out of my head seems to be the only thing other than blowing up that puts me at ease these days. It’s times like this I understand why I used to use drugs to numb the never ending cycle of lows and just stay in the highs but I found peace once I just wish I could again..

#dark empath #sad thoughts #deep thoughts #what the fuck

[diary-of-an-addict]

I was going through my photos this morning and as I did I began counting photos that included friends who are no longer with us due to substance abuse. It’s a sad world when by 30 I have more dead friends than fingers to count on. Good people who struggled to cope in the way society needed them to. After a while working in this field I tend to loose focus of how I came to work in the substance abuse industry and what I do it for. I can’t get myself to delete these photos and videos because sometimes I need that reminder that I do it for them. For all the lost souls who make good but slip from time to time and one time it ends up being the last thing they do. To help the next person who thinks they will never make it out but needs that one person to sit with them and truly see them for the human being they are not the mental health issue they have.

So this is your reminder to check on each other. You never know what impact a simple phone call to an old friend could have on the outcome of a day.

#addiction #dark shi #tw death #mental health #lost friends #scream

[diary-of-an-addict]

Who Am I?

My name is Dana and I am a coda-pendant recovering addict who struggles with bipolar disorder. I am an alanon, and adult child of an alcoholic. I am a sister, a daughter, a mother, and a wife. An employee, a friend, and a College. I am a face in a crowded room, a neighbour, and a personality behind a screen.

My story isn’t much different from many but it is mine all the less. Childhood trauma turned more adult trauma. Abandonment issues mixed with emotional damage that reeks havoc over my now “ functioning adult life”

As a child I self medicated through hair dye, shop lifting, and playing friend group roulette. Anything to distract me from the deep hatred of myself that I never quite understood. As time went on I found that substances numbed the pain and blurred the lines between myself and the person I pretended to be until eventually even while sober I couldn’t tell the difference.

After years of physical addiction and a multitude of what seemed like self inflicted trauma. I stand here now a “functional” adult with out the slightest idea which way is up. I have a career a husband a family the car the house but I still feel so empty.

Maybe this is my untimely inner demon trying to push me to self destruct. But how do I honestly move forward and find happiness if all the things and in the world can’t provide the slightest sense of joy. I’ve made it havnt I the finish line is behind me isn’t it? So why do I feel so stuck like a hamster running on a wheel that inevitably goes nowhere.

I keep this account to document these downs and it seems I come here and write it down with the hope releasing these thought will help yet they never seem to clear.

I’m standing in the edge of a cliff my brain telling me not to step off yet I have this over whelming urge to jump. I don’t want to die but the unknown just seems so appealing.

It’s funny I’ve always been so terrified of change and the u known yet that’s the thing I feel pulled to. The urge to run start over somewhere I don’t know with people who don’t know me. A blank slate free of the responsibility the stress and hopfully this feeling of inevitable repetitive impending doom.

I found happiness once but I can’t seem to find the energy or willingness to find it again.

#lost #who am i #broke

[diary-of-an-addict]

Trauma with a Capital T

I recently had a near death experience. My body slowly started attacking its self while my organs decided they were just going to quit the fight. Pretty shitty seeing as they were not just responsible for keeping me alive but also the tiny human inside of me.

I lied in the hospital room restless, mind racing over the various medical readings and shows I’d watching searching for a simple solution to tell the nurses and dr that they are wrong and I can come home. I was suspended in this state of anxiety not yet in fight or flight but one wrong move and I would be there.

I remember having uncontrollable thoughts about what would happen to my baby if I did not make it out of this. How would he dress her, would he feed her meal prep or let her be a kid. Flashes of worry over come my mind until the DR or Nurse would come in to talk to me. Each leaving me in the same state as before until

#trama #near death experience #story time

[diary-of-an-addict]

The memories of my past haunt me. Like bad dreams that come even when I wake. Random flash backs that hold my mind hostage body suspended in time while I relive the traumatic tails of my life. I never know when they will come or what will tigger them, just that when they come I will be frozen at attention until the short memory clip is over. I wish I new how to free myself from this night mares and maybe recognizing them and what they are will do that. Flash Backs, Trauma Response,PTSD. What ever it is I don’t want to erase my past I just don’t want to be held captive to these memories. No more moments suspended inn time reliving events that already already happened and can’t be changed. At times I wonder how screwed these memories are? Am I remembering the real event or a made up fiction I created to protect myself from what really happened. Either way I’m tired of it. Good night

#complex ptsd #ptsd #memories

[diary-of-an-addict]

The warm glow of the mid morning sun peaked through the window sil and danced across your sleeping naked body like a spot light on a main stage.

You look so peaceful lying there, hair a mess, breath steady like that of a cool summers night breeze.

Why does this scene turn me on!?

I push my body up against yours, slowly stroking your morning wood. Watching as your body still not yet awake moves with enjoyment at the feeling of my gentle caress.

I feel your excitement growing beneath your pants as you let out low moans to tell me to keep going. Moving down under the blanket I free your cock and begin slowing running my tongue down it’s length before slipping it into my mouth.

I’ve got your attention now your back arches with your moans of pleasure telling me your enjoying this.

My lips swell and drip at the sounds of you moaning begging me to keep going.

#kinkywife #bondange #teasing #touch me

[diary-of-an-addict]

If I were to count the amount of people I know who have died since I’ve been alive these past 28 years the world would simultaneously get a chill.

Death doesn’t phase me anymore. It’s just a part of life. I often hear people tell their stories beginning with I can’t loose anymore people to this disease, but the truth is even though I’m still here I think I already lost me. Not a day goes by that I don’t think back on the person I used to be, or the person before that. I am neither of them now more of a shallow shell of a human trying to duck tape the pieces tight enough together that I just don’t fall apart in public.

I no longer cry when I find out someone I knew died. It’s just a blank empty emotion now. Some times I worry that I feel too little , but at least now I acknowledge that the person past. When I was getting high I didn’t even realize the people were gone until it was inconvenient for me because I needed something from them.

For a while there I thought I was cursed. Everytime I slept with someone they would come up dead not too long later.

Death is a funny thing. At times I envy my friends who have past. This new found freedom from all life’s terrors.

I think it scares the people closest to me how much I think about death. I just find something about it beautiful and calming.

Perhaps a part of my soul remembers that peace I felt while I was gone. Back before my soul was shuffled back into this miserable existence.

I spend most of my time interacting with delusional people and psychopaths. I think they might know this same peace while being alive. They don’t seem the succumb to the same stresses as I do. In fact I think delightfully delusional and ignorant bliss are probably the closest to the peace a person whose died has.

Not a care in the world, just floating through time and space, never knowing if your coming or going but you don’t care either way.

This is how I felt the first time I did heroin. It was like floating down a warm river.

#drug addict #addiction #recovery

[diary-of-an-addict]

Watching my bread in the toaster, my brain keenly linked the slow browning of the bread to my pastey un-tanned skin. And suddenly I have a new found respect for the life struggles of a piece of toast.

That is all.

#that’s all

[diary-of-an-addict]

Carpet surfing

Every good addict has completed this level of insanity at one time or another. Weather it’s spending hours or days scavenging through the bristles of the furniture free room your hiding in or smoking that white piece of cat shit you thought was that shard you dropped last Tuesday. Carpet surfing is the first step on the roller coaster of Insane things I did while using that acted as a catalyst to my recovery.

“Im not a thief I just like to put things in my pockets!”

As a baby tweaker I learned very early on that people don’t take kindly to klepto mania. I would often find myself meeting new people, attempting to make friends and it never fails that weather it’s their lighter, the nice smelling lotion from the bathroom cabinet, or the new pink water dog they just got something always ended up going missing. It took me a time or two before I realized I had began to pocket things without thinking. By the end of my using career when I met new people my opening statement was always , “ I swear I’m not a thief, but when I like something I tend to put them in my pockets.”

Sell it all!

When getting loaded my brain has this automatic switch that turns on. It’s as if all the little minions in my brain start freaking out and all I can think about other than getting my next fix is selling everything. From random hand made paintings to old sneakers that don’t have a match, it’s all going on offer up!

There are snipers on the roof!

Zig zagging down the road from the snipers on the rooms of all the buildings in my town. I run for my life only to hiding under a Walgreens register screaming for the cashier to call the plaice. Well this is a bust these cops are dirty I just know their taking me to the desert to kill me. And now I’m in a psych ward.

Psychosis

What’s worse than being in psychosis in Arizona. Having paranoid psychosis with the delusion that Mexican Americans are after me while living in a primarily Hispanic neighborhood. With fear in my bones and a heart to protect I collected all of the knives from the kitchen and hid them around the house. Using large ratchets from the garage and my weapon I paced up and down the halls of my parents house waiting for the undeniable intruders.

#send it #addiction #drug addict

[diary-of-an-addict]

Since the 8th grade we have always been in each others lives. Well maybe in isn’t the right word.

We were like two ghost always haunting the same places cordial but not friendly. Except that one time you tried to date me, but that was a decade ago.

It’s funny seeing the in memory of posts for you still hits me as a shock. It wasn’t like we were close or even really friends, but you were always a kind face in the crowded rooms I wondered.

I’ve been keeping track I know that sounds odd but familiarity doesn’t come cheap to people like us. I became so used to the hustle and bustle of life’s changes, that having those constants like friendly familiar faces was a must.

I hope your at peace now… I’m sure you are.

Blue teeth, and sarcasm will forever be a reminder of you. Rest easy and may you find your place in the big universe and maybe even bring comfort to another lost soul.

#drug addict #addiction #recovery #lost friends #tw death