Cleaning up

This is day 3 of my sobriety. **** and I had a falling out.  Actually, I had a mental breakdown and went into a rage friday night.  I was washing the dishes and he was eating left over pasta on the couch.  I looked over at him as he tried minding his business and trying his best not to glance over at me.  I continued to glare.  How dare he eat my food.  How dare he sit on my couch.  How dare he be under my roof.  I started to verbally abuse him.  When I felt it wasn't enough I took the steak knife I was washing, the same dull knife I used to scratch my wrists,  and held it up to his throat.  He was provoking me.  I let a little bit of logic flood my brain for a split second and threw down the knife.  I was seeing red. I started throwing my fists at his head.  His skull left my knuckles aching. My knuckles left bumps on his head.  My fingernails were bent backward and my nose ring was pulled out half way.   Why does he continue to let me use him as a punching bag?  What kind of woman hits a man?

He left the apartment and went downstairs to talk to the neighbor.  I had enough.  This was the last straw.  This was it.  I called my mother.  I started crying as I told her what had just happened.  I told her I never wanted to see him again.  I was instructed to pack my belongings through my tunnel vision and stay on the phone with her as she and my father were on their way to rescue me.  What they didn't know was that I needed to be rescued from myself.

His parting words to my father and me was, "My dad and I will see you two in court." I wasn't threatened.  That isn't his nature.  Sitting in the passenger seat, I felt relieved to know that I no longer had a chance to do further damage to him or myself.  I left the apartment with both dogs and all five Suboxone strips.  I wanted him to suffer.  

Thinking back to that moment of rage, and the previous times Mr. Hyde came out to play, I am almost certain that it is due to the build up of broken promises **** had made to me these past two years and those I had made to myself,  and the lack of will power on both of our parts. We are trying our best to improve our situations.  I am staying with my parents and he is back at the apartment trying to find work.  I went back on my word by seeing him the next day to give him a strip.  As much as I wanted to paint my heart black, my resilience and nurturing nature continued to shine through.  We are still speaking to each other regularly and we are making an effort to get clean.  We have tried in the past, but our hearts weren't ready.  I believe that in order to kick an addiction, you have to feel it in your mind, body and soul.  Feeling guilty will not cut it.  The feeling of guilt will diminish as soon as the thought of using emerges.

They say that the third time is a charm.  I feel that saying is correct.  I am taking action in a different manner.  Yesterday, my mother and I went to a Christian church.  Although I am not religious I enjoyed being in the presence of those who put God first in their lives.  During the service, my eyes welled up when certain lyrics were sung and when certain words were said.  This is how I knew the pain in my heart started to heal.  At the end of the service my mother and I, along with six other people, were given a personal word from  the pastor.  He compared God and church to the Bowflex commercial.  He said as you would give Bowflex six weeks to change your body, you would give God six weeks to change your life.  I plan to hold him true to his statement.  I am actually looking forward to attending next Sunday's service.

Cleaning up is a difficult process.  I am fortunate to have a loving and supportive family by my side and a father who knows how to encourage me to be my best.  The second night I spent on their living room couch he had a talk with me.  He told me that I needed to open up to the opportunities that are available out in the world.  He told me to make the choices and decisions that will shape my future.  My father is right.  It's now or never to make the change.  The time is now to work on defining the character this world needs and deserves.

GOALS

By the end of 2012 I will accomplish the following:

1)Piss clean

2)Enter a screenplay into a competition

3)Find a female friend

4)Weigh 105 lbs.

5)Stamp my passport

Additional:

-Have waist length hair

-Master three advanced yoga poses

-Meditate for 20 minutes everyday

MY ULTIMATE GOAL:

-WIN SUNDANCE

High Tension

One liner:  The story revolves around a young student who's alternate persona embarks on a fatal rampage.


Pitch:  Marie and her best friend Alexa travel to the country to focus on their studies and to escape the temptation of heavy partying.  Spending the night at Alexa's parents' home, Marie snaps into her alternate persona in the middle of the night, a heavy-set, middle aged male serial killer.  Starting with the brutal decapitation of Alexa's father, then moving on to slitting the throat of her mother, and finally the killing of her younger brother with a shot gun, Marie is eager to save Alexa from the torture of her alternate persona.  It isn't until the end of the film where we find out who the serial killer really is.  The movie ends with Alexa stabbing Marie and escaping, leaving Marie who had survived, in an institution in solitary confinement.

Writer's block and Free Association

Today I experienced my first writer's block.  I was in the process of writing my treatment, and all of a sudden my brain started to frazzle in my skull.  I looked down at the sentences on my college-rule multipurpose writing pad,  however these completed sentences were staring back at me as individual words.  The flow diminished so suddenly that I'm finding it hard to continue writing, hence the fact that I'm writing this blog.  In addition, I made a tuna-corn salad, I gave both dogs a bath, and I scraped ****'s pipe for about 20 minutes.  I will now take a hit of the resin I collected...ugh I hate lighter fluid... ::ExHaLe::...

I spent about $60 today on used books and DVD's. 90% of the titles in my collection are used.  I'll be popping in "High Tension" in about 20 minutes.  My next entry will be the pitch to this film.

My latest Facebook status update...

Question from Secret Society of Women: Where do you see yourself five years from now? Five years from now I will be 29 years old with at least three feature length screenplays under my belt. I see myself in contact/contract with big names in Hollywood, for the discovery of my purpose and passion in life will be shared with the rest of the world.

Rapunzel- VOL.2

Aside from discovering my passion a couple days after my 24th birthday, I had the audacity to chop off 15 inches of hair.  It was chin length- the shortest my hair has ever been.  My plan was to highlight the entire length with blond highlights.  However, due to the indigo I used to color my hair jet black when it was bra strap length, the peroxide damaged the bottom half and turned it into brassy, yellow-green straw. The damage was done and irreversible.  My hair, being my "mane" asset, next to my perky small C cup breasts, was my security blanket. I received tons of complements on the shine, length and over all health of my hair.  The plus side to my situation, however, is the fact that my hair grows super fast...thanks Mom and Dad!  I have grown an inch and a half since the chop in the beginning of August, leaving my hair at 7 inches.

My goal will be grow six inches of length before my 25th birthday in July.  My regimen will consist of scalp massages and oiling the length three to four times a week.  I will keep track of my progress by measuring my hair bi-weekly.  In addition to the healthy treatments I will be doing, I will also be visiting my colorist to touch up my roots.  As long as I continue to oil and keep heat styling to a minimum, I will achieve the honey blond mane I was aiming for.  

Most importantly, my diet will be the key to healthy hair, skin and nails.  Incorporating fresh fruits and vegetables, protein from lean meats and fish and complex carbohydrates into my diet will certainly reflect on my overall health.  

Thank you, Mr. Brownstone

So I relapsed.  I ended up going about the same routine as I did for the past two months upon waking up today.  It's so much simpler to take a hit and get rid of the chills and clammy skin in a matter of seconds than to wait 45 minutes to an hour for the withdrawal medication to kick in. Plus, trying to deal with the emotional baggage that comes along with the withdrawal is absolute hell.  It feels as if the entire world is crumbling down on me.  This is the time when my mind has a mind of its own.  I am burdened with negative thoughts that refuse to leave my head.  I feel guilty about my dependence on Mr. Brownstone, but unlike Axl, I'm the one who ain't leaving him alone.

Thanks to the media, this stuff gets a bad rep.  The horror stories you hear all involve intravenous administration.  Sure I've thought about it, but I'd rather do it the "rich man way." Although I'm not proud of it, I actually managed to accomplish the subject for my 25 page screenplay and the first draft of my beat sheet for my screenwriting class while under the influence.  In addition, I find it funny that I made the decision to enroll back into school with the aid of Mr. Brownstone.  I'm doing very well in all three of my classes by the way.  He has also helped me gain five pounds, which for me, is a very good thing.   Also, my shyness and mild case of social anxiety flew out the window.  Normally, my heart would start pounding as I walk to class, or my hands would start to sweat when I know I'm about to meet someone I've never met before. While on this stuff, I'm fine.  I feel great.  I feel like a normal human being.  I'm living proof that you can use and still have the ability to function, and in my case, function better, in society.     I'm aware that using this isn't the way deal with my psychological issues, but what if it actually improves my quality of life and gives me a better sense of well being? Sure I can treat myself the "healthier" way by exercising and meditating and perhaps speaking to someone about my concerns, but for now, it's me and Mr. Brownstone.

I know I must quit.  It won't be easy.  I have high hopes that writing will help me get though it.

Knowing

Knowing that I can be in full withdrawal mode 12 hours from now makes me wonder why I continued to make the same destructive decisions everyday for the past two months.  He met him at the EZ Pawn on Eastern.   I was there to trade in a $400 pair of clustered diamond earrings for the cheapest diamond studs set in yellow gold.  Walmart brand, I think.  I was aware I was down grading.  We had the chance before but I guess we weren't ready.  That day we were.  We were curious to see where the dragon would take us.  The high wrapped around by bones like a warm velour blanket.  Drifting into euphoria, my anxious demeanor subsided.  Something new, something brown, to numb my emotions once again so I can deal with the ever-expanding hole I'm digging.

Taking the first step

My primary focus for the remainder of the year will be to complete a 25 page screenplay for my screenwriting class. The project will make up 90% of my grade. Coming up with the subject and theme of my screenplay is becoming a challenge for me.  Not only do I want to write about something that will capture the interests of everyone who reads it, both in and out of the class room, but I would also like to submit the screenplay in a screenwriting competition. Perhaps I'm thinking way over my head. Here I am, not having exercised my brain in about three years other than writing on this blog and counting the money I take home from the strip club, and now I'm jumping into this.  I'm actually taking a plunge.  Shortly I'll find out if the water is deep enough to catch my fall.

Having worked only four days in the past five weeks, I've drained most of my bank account and savings.  I gave Mom and Dad $1600 this afternoon so they can pick up the car from Meineke after having a used transmission installed.  I offered, they didn't ask. They could have continued to rent a car, but who knows how long it would take them to save $1700. Dad is the only one in that household working.   I did it so they wouldn't have to worry.  Mom tells me that she has an accounting of all the money I have given them since 2007.  If I were to keep my own accounting, I'd probably puke each time I balanced out the total.  Thousands upon thousands of dollars out of my own pocket I've given them, and nothing to show for it.  It's a damn shame.