You gotta swallow hard when what’s around you is changing more rapidly than you are able to handle. This is the point when you realize you can not go back, but are terrified to more forward, and more than that, numb to the present. For me this point hit on Day 4 while detoxing in late January.

You can’t breath and you can’t exhale.

1. Sobriety and Addiction
2. Yin and Yang
3. Alpha and Omega

I forced myself to draw while in detox for fear that if I didn’t I would not know how to afterwards.

Sometime in January I knew things were not right and that a climax was on it’s way.

I phoned the local drug and alcohol detox facility on January 22nd, 2012 and self admitted myself three days later for seven days. I’ve been sober off over-the-counter medications and alcohol ever since.

I didn’t think a relapse would happen this way. I mean… this coming August I’ll be seven years clean off hard drugs and five months cigarette free later this month… and now on the 25th I’ll be 90 days clean and sober off of everything.

And that feels foreign and most naked to me.

Please note that this sale has ended.

It’s a lonely road we all must walk after coming clean with ourselves then our family and friends. And truly no one else really understands because they are each walking their own paths too.

And the plan is to ignore the banter and move forwards and not be so hard on myself. I can’t count how many people have said that to me lately… people who know me well and people who know me not so well. I must be wearing my emotions on my sleeve.

Where exactly is one to put their emotions? And yes, the sleeve is a metaphor. I always try to use a kleenex when necessary but will resort to using my sleeve when I’m running away from the zombies! Haha!

Look, I started a sale in the shop. All originals are 50% off. I really need to clear these wonderful original artworks out of the studio and make room for new creations both physically and emotionally. The prices are already marked down.

Happy Springtime Everyone!

Today marks five years sobriety for me off of GHB.

I drew this dragon five months ago. I added the watercolour five days ago and the image just screamed chasing the dragon once the colours began popping it to life. It still needs more work mind you… Subconsciously, I still chase that illusive dragon when working, creating or even when alone thinking or researching. When what I’m working on, creating, thinking or researching climaxes, I certainly do, feel high and struggle to get to the end. I almost can’t contain myself at times and must run outside to smoke a cigarette and sadly, nicotine is the worst drug of all, as it doesn’t even make you high.

I silently research drugs, their uses and legalities. I consider it a hobby and when I feel the need to use a substance that most certainly will cause me angst, I read back in my journals about the gruesome detox and agony I suffered through for months when sobering up from GHB.

It’s not a pleasant experience to break out in painful large blisters and pimples all over your back, arms and legs and to lose feeling in your extremities and watch your fingers and toes go blue from slowed blood circulation as you reduce your dose of GHB slowly and by half each day for one week at home. It’s not human to recoil into an infantile state regressing to points in one life while awake or asleep when bad things happened only to have to vividly relive them again and again until you aged and moved onwards to the next abuse or trauma.

And I certainly don’t miss the need to dose every half hour at times and the need to overdose just to sleep for two hours at a time or the constant fear of knowing that I would die from sudden withdrawal without GHB running through my system if my drug dealer ran out of it or I forgot my bottle at home after leaving the house for that day. I would return home for the bottle. Always. You hit a certain point with GHB addiction where there is no turning back to just recreational use. Missing a dose can send you into convulsions. Missing a dose can stop your heart from beating. Missing a dose can take your breath away forever. While taking too much can make you fall asleep and go into a coma.

I do miss the first five months of the addiction; the time when everything was wonderful, my brain worked properly and life seemed easier even if it was only a charade.

And most of all, I DO NOT REGRET taking GHB or becoming addicted to it as there were times when it, was perfect.

Over the years people have said to me why not take a Xanax or a Valium to calm down. Are you kidding me? Really, offering a sedative to someone who was addicted to them for two full years (albeit the illegal kind) is like offering a recovered heroin addict a T1 or an alcoholic a just a small shot of whiskey.

So, chasing the dragon is akin to being amongst the living.

Chasing the dragon is a work in progress. Thus far the mediums used are Faber Castell Pitt Artist Pens and Winsor and Newton watercolour on Arches watercolour paper. It measures 8×10 inches (20,3cm by 25,4cm). And I do not ever smoke inside. My household is a strict non-smoking and scent free home.

Supporter’s Information – The programs offered by addiction treatment centers are designed to help treat addiction to any kind of illicit drug.

And today I am paying for it, needing to dose every half hour or so, so as to not go into remission and suffer through withdrawal.

It’s awful. I thought I’d be OK going to that party last night where I knew there would be GHB. Someone asked me if I wanted a shot and I said no then another person asked me again and I said no again. I should have just left that party. I should have just walked home. Then another person asked saying “Oh, Jessica, it’ll be OK” proceeding to explain that he was addicted to and now only takes it when he’s around other people. I caved, and said yes thinking it would be OK just this once.

And just like that…

…I’m completely addicted to GHB again.

I’d be a FOOL to even try that drug again with 1679 days sober off that stinking drug.

Many anniversaries precariously show their face to me during this time of year when summer begins to end and everything alive turns crunchy beneath your feet as it withers and dies.

What am I trying to say? August 26, 2009 passed just as any other day yet it did mark four years sobriety and it was nine years ago that day that I moved out and left my ex-husband. September 5, 2009 still looms in the near future and with it comes the painful memory of my appendix rotting and doctors telling me there was no sign of Crohn’s and that it was just a bad case of gangrenous appendicitis. Right! Three weeks later in 1997 I was having 11 inches of bowel removed and weighed a ghastly 98 pounds. Sorry, but you doctors at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Halifax should never have sent me home to Fredericton. I wasn’t even eating solid food eight days post-op after you silly doctors cut and stapled my abdomen crooked.

If I had remained a wife, September 5th, would’ve marked my eleventh wedding anniversary.

Today… today…
I, saw him again
Today
Today…

So what do you do when memories cloud your judgment? I turned inwards and let it ride and grew some purple skinned potatoes with my mom.

Memories accumulate over time interlacing overlapping each other causing fog to form at the base of one’s understanding. We see people in passing who at one time understood us; perhaps even loved us and whom we used to love to. They dwell between the nether regions of our souls; a place dark perhaps distraught from years of neglect and solitude.

When you see what it really is
that is what you’ll “get”
Got it?

I don’t know why I saw her tonight. I don’t know why she was there dancing. I couldn’t understand the memories that surged yet understood why and how they became.

We ingested copious amounts of drugs together. We partied days at a time. Not hours. Nor evenings. Days. 72 hours? 3 days turned into weeks for me. Months. Years. Passed.

It broke tonight. The craving for intoxication. Annihilation. Emptiness. I saw her and all that was is. All that will be was forgotten.

Nine hundred and sixty seven days later I remain sober of GHB.

Fuck, the last two weeks became stupendously hard for me and I don’t know why. It was all I could do but work, draw, write, sleep, not sleep, be, not be, freak silently while the cravings raced over me, through me and around me. How can this be? How!!! Talking to someone here in this freaking city is irrelevant. People here in this small town have no clue. NONE.

So, I will talk to you. You who will not judge, nor react. You who will accept. You the unknown, the present tense of life.

It melted away tonight. As quickly as it hit, two weeks later it melted, evaporated. It’s been a long long time since I’ve craved like this. Maybe the longest it has ever lasted since I quit. The whole of the month of April, 2008 has nearly strangled me with… the words just don’t exist to continue writing right now.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

I began, a few moments ago, thinking about how I wished I could remove my brain, throw it in the wash with detergent and later dry it outside on the line in the crisp autumn air.

I can’t literally do that though and that fact irks me especially after a day like today.

I am only able to wash my skin if dirty, exercise if fat and eat if hungry. The mind is different and yes, every one of those things affects the mind indirectly but they cannot immediately rid it of dirt.

This got me thinking about drugs and how I crave them during moments of high stress. Yes, moments, for the urge can pass to instantaneously fix the sleepiness, stupidness or inattentiveness. On days like today though the moments turned into hours and the 15 minute break worked for about 15 minutes upon my return to working. I know, I know there will be days like these.

I wish I had that little bottle on days like these. I wish I had my magic potion. I wish I could sip it into oblivion and be unaware of my own existence, only conscious of other’s insistence.

Today I found two pennies.

Cleansing the mind of mental madness is normal human activity. When the dots run out it’s time to jump; land elsewhere. Things unspoken become clearer. You can visualize remembering both good and not so good again. And this is OK. Interacting with those feelings, one needs become fearless for instants, seeking the other side. How did you look while he was looking at you looking at him.

In time, I find this becomes possible. You begin to feel the anger. Then the ahn yah breath. Finally, it bursts. The lapse pre-burst time could be days, minutes, even years. Does it get easier I asked myself. No I answer. But the mental state of mind increases in size, categorizing knowledge, post-burst. And life begins anew.

Today I have been clean of GHB for 513 days.

The previous day count posted was – Lucidity – Full Feature

I used this site’s counter – NA Ohio Clean Time Counter. These counters can be found all over the world. I liked this one. Looks nice and has an easy drop-down menu for month, day and year choices. Go count! You might be delightfully surprised and grateful.

I am playing around on my site and probably will do so quite often as the New Year approachs, then begins. To everyone – please do not worry about me and let me know how worried you are. All it does is cause me to second guess myself and worry about you. Right now I am safe with my cat and surogate dog and am working on my apartment, blog and also in the process of contacting people about NYE who can help me if needed. The drug useage in my previous post happened when none of you know. Just like any other chronic desease, a relapse may occur. What has helped in the past is when I open up and begin writing HONESTLY. This is my blog. This is my life. And the addiction is not who I am just as when my chron’s disease was active, the chron’s was not who I was. They are both there inside me and I have the choice to be transparent.

There are times when we truley find ourselves alone. This is not a bad thing. It just is. The people who are normally in my life are not for one reason or other, not able to help me. Physically, some of them are off of the continent right now. Others live in another city unreachable by bus or skytrain. Some live on the other side of the continent.

I have some aquaintances . I have been reading so much tonight after desparelty searching for my resource self compiled addiction resource binder. The fear had become silently overwhelming. I’m putting my coping skills to the test. I’m responding rather than reacting. If you are at all alarmed by this take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Daytox, Dual Diagnosis and my Family Doctor have given me the skills. I just didn’t think I would ever have to use them again .

So the aquaintances. They are people whom I can trust to be with, without being triggered. I know this. I have tested this. This is a very great thing indeed. Friday night (today) I’ll be attending a free event on fencing. I’ve decided to attend at a specificly set time frame. I have bus fare put aside for the event. I’m actually excited about going. It is going to be a black light spectacle. The people whom I know in attandance are NOT hard drug users and will not show me any, nor offer me any because they don’t use them.

NYE though, I need to do some research. I cannot attend any club event at all nor can I attend any event where people i know are taking hard drugs.

If I did attend a club event or house party it would end in these two scenarios ONLY.

1. Attend event – leave event and return home safely and fall asleep whether or not the consumption of drugs occured.

2. Attend event – leave event and return home an addict.

Seriously, I WILL NOT take that risk.

You know what, regardless of where I am physically located in the world these same scenarios could be occurring there.

I am not angry with anyone. Please believe me. My gut (instinct) is working at an all time high (no pun intended).

I have let go of the chapters.

This film accurately portrays the daily non-trust of myself. Three months ago I wanted to release this movie. Self fear and loathing took over. A relapse of a different kind ensued, that of self denial and anxiety.

This movie was filmed and completed as of December 2004. When I opened it up three monthes ago to ad credits and thus break it into chapters for easy internet viewing, I could only do the first chapter. This is the way I want it to be viewed. Those 10 monthes of acute addiction (3rd relapse) beginning in 2005 are not portrayed in this movie. But maybe, the idea of how I got there, is.

I have been sober of GHB for 465 days. A hundred days have passed since the last count. A hundred more may come to be.

To everyone who reads my site: Sometimes the self is the leading voice against you.

After the jump, Lucidity –

I compressed this film the best I could for internet viewing. Lucidity was a 2.2 gigabyte file. The Lucidity below is 50.8mb, ideal for internet viewing. Hit play, turn your volume up and enjoy.

Thank you,
Jessica Doyle – emotion creator

A documentary inside an addicts mind.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Today it has been 365 days since my last cap of GHB. There is a documentary I have been working on for the last two years. It has been edited both soberly and amidst full blown addiction. Today marks the day that I will finish this project by integrating words I wrote beginning with The loss of control of my…
What began as a college project has evolved into something much more. This documentary portrays the initial ensuing battle that began three years ago when I first ingested GHB. I attempted three times to sober up. The first and second time respectively, I stayed sober for three weeks each time, only to succumb to FULL BLOWN addiction upon relapsing after the second attempt at sobriety. This third time of sobriety has been one full year in the making. It has tested my strength, stamina and own personal beliefs, morals and ideas.

Below is the synopsis of the timeline behind the scenes of Lucidity, the given name of the film.

In May of 2004 I began filming myself. I was not using GHB 24/7 at this time. I did recognize that something was not right though. I went to my family doctor explaining how I thought I was builing a dependancy on GHB in order to focus, relax and hence sleep at night. I was studying in college after having returned to studying after an eight year hiatus from college working as a graphic artist / illustrator, both as a freelancer and employee of various business’. By the end of the week I gave up GHB upon my doctors advice and suffered no major withdrawal as a consequence. I had only been ingesting two to four caps in the evenings and on weekends at that point. I also began on Celexa. The Celexa had a strange effect on me. My pupils dilated.

During those first three weeks of sobriety I filmed. The camera was always by my side. On the last day of the third week I took a cap of GHB. I started where I had left off from before. I was no longer filming at this point. I has recorded about eight hours of film. I began editing and capturing in Final Cut Pro. I was not high 24/7 but was taking on average five to seven caps of GHB daily. I was not high while in class, only at night and on weekends. The 21 course year long program I was enrolled in began to take on a life of it’s own. I could not keep up. The more I could not keep up the more GHB I consumed. I was still taking Celexa. By the end of July I had finished editing Lucidity. It was about an hour long. I presented it high to the class one late July sunny afternoon. Two days later, the second semester of college ended for three weeks vacation, until the fourth began. I was using GHB daily perhaps taking 10 caps throughout the day, all day. I was on vacation and wanted to have fun all the time.

I flew Back East to visit with my family and friends whom I had not seen for a year and half since making the move to British Columbia. I left ona jet plane high. I landed in New Brunswick Sober. My prescription for Celexa had been changed to Effexor. I spent the week in Saint John partying a few nights with friends doing some drugs but not consuming any GHB.

Upon arriving in British Columbia after an eight hour flight from NB, I took two caps of G. On September fifth, 2004 I checked myself into Vancouver Detox. I was an emotional mess. The curriculum at College had been changed and altered in a way that my class and I could not come to terms with. I couldn’t cope after two days of MESS from the newly appointed Director of the program I was enrolled in. I made the call and admitted myself to Detox the following day, knowing that it would be suicide to miss possibly five days of classes. I stayed sober for three weeks.

I was taking GHB in the morning at this point. In November and December or 2004 I began editing the hour long version of Lucidity. It is 40 minutes in length now. I added the crazy to it. It was then, that I knew I was truly addicted and the edits I did strongly portray the mind of an addict and how it works.

I graduated College on December 19, 2004. In February of 2005 I wrote the attached purple monologue. I had quite taking Effexor and was taking GHB to combat the effects of the Effexor. I deemed GHB to be the best antidepresent out there; as it was readily available and cheap. Very cheap. It was more effective than any other substance I had ever consumed in my life. I was unemployed aftyer graduation and appying for jobs and working on my art. I began working at Cannabis Culture and soon was given the responsibility of being the Art Director, all the while my GHB use increasing. I began waking up at night only to go back to sleep after a cap of G. I could get through a work day on three caps of G plus the two consumed in the morning before work. When I got home it was bi-hourly ingestion until bed. This routine repeated until August twenty-sixth of 2005.

Most days I was consuming 20 to 30 caps of G, overdosing at night two to three times to get precious sleep. I was beginning to nod out at work. My anxiety level was imense. I was capping every hour now. If I did not have a cap by the second hour I would begin to enter withdrawal. My feet were continually cold. We had just finished sending to print the third bi-monthly issue of CC mag at work – the one and only issue where I had been in full control of art. We were happy to have got it done. We were understaffed. We the designers worked long hours sometimes reaching 70+ hours per week. I didn’t know how to get out of the situation I was in at work.

Then it happened. The BCMP Bookstore was raided by the DEA with the help of the Vancouver Police. My world and those who worked along side of me and with me collapsed on the same day issue 57 went to print, the DEA raided. I had quit smoking cigarettes three days before the raid. After the raid I took the addiction up again.

On August 21, 2005 I decided to sober up. I knew at this level of addiction I could die from withdrawal. I was only sleeping two maybe three hours total a night. I was sweating constantly but cold. I could not think. I could not cope. I feared death but feared life equally. I was in purgotory. When Eric (my BF) awoke the next morning I broke down and begged him to help me sober up. It was a beautiful Saturday Afternoon. He asked how much I was taking and said he would not judge. I told him 40 to 50 caps on the worst days. He put me on a scheduled dosing taper. One cap every two hours, to be halved every day or two. The withdrawal process was grotesque physically and mentally. I could not sleep and could not contain myslef emotionally nor physically wihtout movement or run-on thinking. On Monday I went to the doctor whom seven months earlier I had decided was not practicing medicine in best of my interests. I was prescribed Lorazapam to help with detoxification and sleeping. That Monday night I slept for SEVEN hours staight. SEVEN hours. I had not slept for longer than a two hour period only induced through mini-OD. I continued tapering and began taking Paxil and still do to this day. The following week I attended Dual Diagnosis.

This past year is another documentary in the blogging/making. Sometimes it does not feel as though I was the person who experienced the other side. Today, however, marks the beginning of an ending. The Lucidity text was written last year, saved and put away. During the next week I will be integrating the text into the documentary. Lucidity will be released in chapters over the coming months.

Even while high I still craved more. The more being the ability to remember and record everything through pen, paint and video.

I am honouring myself today. I have no cake to eat. I have a film to release.

Thank you

I have barely been out of the house this week. I go to the 7/11 to buy pop and cigarettes almost daily. I spend what little money I do have supporting two habits. You know though I like the people who work there and the other customers I see. They are familiar to me and know my name and I theirs.

So yeah I’ve been sober from GHB for 42 weeks today. Yay. Sisboombah… I should feel proud of that. All it does though is remind me of how I got here in the first place. Maybe being done the Valium taper is affecting me. I don’t want to blame it on anything anymore. I don’t understand why I’m here right now. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

Putting words to emotions has been somewhat difficult lately. I’ve been trying to keep myself up and going and laughing but sometimes the truth needs out. I haven’t been hiding anything but some emotions have been bubbling in the cauldrin that need to be stirred. Is it possible that I could miss the addiction? I feel like I need a problem to focus on. I once read somewhere that people who live with physical pain somewhere deep inside enjoy having the pain. When my Chron’s disease was active I lived with pain on a daily basis. I don’t know what I’m getting at. I think I miss being anxious. It drove me physically. Now I’m lethargic and don’t want to move around at all. I’m content to stay at home pick at my skin and be housebound. I’m not content though! I’m angry. My brain just keeps asking questions that I just can’t answer. It makes me furious. My mind is full of daggers half of the time. Flip flop. Why do I always keep asking myself the same questions. I feel let down not knowing the answers.

I tend to write when feeling this way; it usually leads me to a new understanding of myself. Tonight though I’m gonna try something different. I rarely draw when I’m feeling angry, anxious or upset. And it’s not that I feel insane or anything I am longing for things that haven’t happened and remembering my old self. And I miss my old self. ‘Cause truth be told I don’t know who I am in this new body. I want to be useful.

Who needs drugs when you have photoshop. This is my friend Chester on the right and myself on the left. He sent me an email with these pics attached at the end of the message. I emailed him back with some pics of my own. Anyone care to guess what we were talking about? LOL! Man, I laughed so hard the other night because of the pics he sent me and the ones I later created to send him.

If you have any distorted pics of yourself please feel free to send them to me. I’ll post 6 at a time to create another art absract.

Cheers!

There are times when we need to go back to remember how we arrived to, today. Tonight I traveled back to a night that I lived through. On Friday, August 19, 2005 I had written a very convoluted email to my employer essentially giving notice that I quit. That evening turned into night.

Early that Saturday morning I wrote:

3AM Saturday morning

Go play a game he says. But what game do I play. The game of writing comes to mind. I don’t like feeling anxiety and I don’t particularly like the feeling of my heart pounding so hard that it’s going to come out of my chest.

I don’t want to work for blank blank. Maybe he and Eric are right. I should be on meds. Fuck that. I will be ok.

I am having the worst hot flash right now. My feet have been frozen for days and sweating and cold.

However I have had extreme moments of clarity. So clear about where I am and dreams of what I want to do…

I went on to write:

Living with shame, self doubt and anxiety on a daily basis is, in fact slowly killing me.
…inside I’m a thirteen year old girl unable to say no to her mother.

…continuing later with:

When one takes a drug to cope with reality one does not see what is real. Only when one is honest with oneself can one see. Why does clarity come at 3AM in the morning? What causes things to just make since? How is it possible. How is it possible to quit one’s job during an anxiety attack?

On Sunday August 21, 2005 I wrote:

Early morning on day two, 9:15

Yesterday was my first day to regulate my use of G. I was up to taking perhaps 40 caps a day. And I don’t want to die. I want to live to see gorgeous mornings like today. I feel warmth of sun beams caressing my buttocks to feet. I’m clad in a huge white cotton sweater and 3/4 length black stretch pants.

At this time yesterday I was pacing in the apartment and took 4 maybe 10 caps of G unable to shut my mind down nor to accept the many racing thoughts in it. At 12:30 I awoke on the futon somewhat calm knowing I was lucky to be alive. My heart had been beating so fast that night I had begged for death watching myself from afar.

Eric arose at 1:30 and I tried to put on a brave face. I had brushed the dog, and broke down and told him the truth.

When you are addicted… I’m at a loss for words right now. The memory of that weekend has been present in my mind lately. Maybe the weather is stirring it up? Maybe it is because those dates are drawing near? I guess those three days will forever be remembered by me. I think a part of me died that weekend. It makes me so sad, because I can’t comprehend how I got there, in the first place. If it, were not for Eric helping me those first two nights and days of self detoxing at home I would not be here right now. The above are brief entries I wrote in haste during those days. They do not even begin to describe the physical and mental anguish I felt while beginning to taper off G. I knew, and Eric knew if I cut cold turkey I could die from the detox so tapering was the only option. I would not leave my home. I could not eat nor could I sleep. My skin broke out in a hundred pimples and began crawling with sensitivity. All my senses hurt.

I am so sorry Eric that you had to see me that way. I love you.

On Monday morning we went to the doctor for help. I have a journal entry for that day also, which in time I may read and then post. I hope this gives people some insight that addiction is real and that it hurts just like any other disease. And like any other disease you need time to heal, time to remember and then be in the present.

*The painting at the top I painted for Eric a few weeks later in mid September 2005.

I have wirtten about walking the line and not being able to choose what side to get off on. Today though I’m walking the line, and walking and walking because the choices just seem not to be there to step off the line. I’m going to call this Grey Walking. The weather is grey. My cat is grey. I wonder if my cat was orange if the sun would come out?

Someone emailed me about my last post being gross and disgusting. It was meant to be funny!

Lately it’s been duh. Today is day duh. How would you duh.

All right – today I’ve been sober two hundred and seventy four days from GHB. May 26, 2006 marks nine monthes of not using that damn clear liquid to function. Today was a day of reflection, as my mind retrieves memories most recent.

Nine monthes also causes me to think about babies. Had a good diccussion with Dee on the matter on MSN messenger. I cried. He had to leave and go for a walk. We seem to butt heads sometimes. We are great friends and being great friends means we discuss and sometimes argue over issues. It is a wondrous feeling to have friends that you can be honest to regardless of the topic; to have true conversation that could stir up a variety of emotions or memories but know that tomorrow you will, still be in fact be friends. Dee and I have known eachother since 1993. We met at Art College back in New Brunswick. Now we both reside in Vancouver. Our roads taken to be here have been different but our paths crossed many times.

What do you do when an anniversary comes? A sobriety anniversary? I don’t go to NA so I don’t get a little cake. Not that I really need or want cake or even want anything for being sober for this amount of time. I drank a pina colada at Eric’s mom’s retirement party a couple of weeks ago. One drink. I wasn’t addicted to alchahol. I didn’t crave another one after.

Maybe I think I’m different. I have addictive behaviors. I have so called normal behaviors. I don’t feel like an addict anymore. I’m not sure if I remember what it feels like. I don’t know how I could drink a litre of that liquid every week. How? Maybe I’ll not understand for some time. What I do know is I’m happy to be alive. I’m very happy to be alive. I don’t know how I made it through a year of basically not sleeping for longer than two hours at a time. I don’t know who that person was? I don’t know how Even the weight gain doesn’t bother me anymore. It’s actually nice to have a padded bum to sit on. So what does this mean? Does it have to mean anything? I almost died and looked myself in the face my last night of using. I floated away for a little bit and then I came back.

I have hope. I hope my faith in life stays for a while again. Ten years ago my life was tested with Crohn’s Desease. This time the disease was addiction. The recoveries of both feel similar to me. Have any of you felt like your life was being tested? And who is actually doing the testing? Was it you? Was there an external force at play?

I believe I have tested myself to see how far I could go to another place, to feel something else, a sensation of bliss. But to stay in bliss too long makes for a pretty long hard comedown.

Right now I’m good. Writing justs makes me feel. I feel human and part of somthing larger than myself. How are you doing at this hour? It’s 3:43AM in the morning here.

Happy anniversary to anyone out there celebrating one!

What is our habitat as human beings on this earth? We seem to flourish even in the harshest climates buiding anthills to thrive around. While visiting New York City in 1995 my jaw dropped as I looked out, then down, at the multitudes of people, cars and rooftops, from atop the Empire States Building. Everything was orderly. People walked on sidewalks and crossed the street when walk signs blinked they could. Cars, buses and trucks beeped their way through the gridded landscape following eachother staying to the left or right of the streets. Grey, tarred and dirty roofing material reached as far as it could to the sky.

Collectively this panorama began to appear indistinguishable from itself save for a few buildings that had treed rooftops or nominal architectural characteristics. A lone red firetruck honking chaotically pushing through traffic broke the sound and patterned landscape every now and then. The people though, remained invariable, appearing as ants adhering to the paths set afore them. The odd one would lurch into traffic disobeying the common law, unique amongst the others, he divided himself from the nest.

Eric left today, sleeping bag in hand, going camping up to Harrison Lake with Ian, Tomoko and a few others. I had been invited. I chose not to go last night and told him so today. He said he was disapointed and I did too. I’m not upset at Eric nor anyone else. This is my own choosing. Fuck. I am one divided within myself. I want to be sober but be fucked up. I want to draw and work on the web. I want to dance, feel freedom in my head. But, by choosing to be alone have I lost out instead?

Everywhere I look there are drugs and alchahol. In recovery, people and instructors both, talk of them. They laugh about the good ‘ole days. What the fuck is that! I’ve been going less and less to Daytox and Dual Diagnosis. I sometimes feel it keeps me sick. So where exactly do I fit in? This is the functioning addicts manifesto not an addict on the street nor a fully functioning human being.

I’m not for nor against the use of drugs. I believe people should have the right to choose what they put into their own body. While in treatment, a client is to abstain from any drug use unless it is prescribed medication. But what about the addicts who could have only an addiction to one particular drug? In my case GHB excluding the pepsi and cigarettes. Every now and then I would like to have a glass of wine or a toke of pot. Not all addicts are addicted to all substances! They say in treatment “Why take the chance?” To me being sober is no different than functioning as an addict. My symtoms are the same. My reactions are too. My likes and dislikes are pretty equivalent too. As summer encroahes the northern hemisphere I wonder where I’ll be. I’m transitioning right now. I transitioned from addict to sober… what will it be next? Sober to question mark?

New York City was an idea in my head. After 9/11 the idea was dead.

I want to execute my ideas not kill them.

When you believe something so strongly no matter what it may be; it is bound by mind to exist. Recently my dreams have become so deviant, encompassing so many areas of past, present and future times that they come into my conscious reality of day to day life. Have you ever woken up screaming? Last week this happen three times. My eyes opened wide, my mouth opened sending a shrilling shriek into the air as I sat up. I had known I was dreaming and knew I begun screaming in the dreams. What was uncommon about them was, they were not per-say nightmares. I learned today that they are called night terrors from the nurse at Daytox.

I’m not sure how many of you think about death. Not so much suicide but death itself. What happens? Why? How will you be remembered if at all? Could anything have been done to prevent your death? Death crosses my mind every day. There has not been a day in recent memory where it has not entered, existed for a brief moment or more and then exited my mind. This has been common to me for over 20 years.

Everyone says you are the adult – you make the decision. But what would you do if somewhere along the way you lost the ability to choose? The simple choice to take a shower for instance can take me up to a week to make.

I’m going to present to you, two lists. One list is of words and phrases people have said, written or used to describe me and some that happened to me. In the list that follows I’ll present another group of words that people have said, written or used to describe me and some that happened to me.

FIRST list

creative, full of energy, beautiful, soft, I love you, sincere, sensitive, you are an angel, daughter, lover, sexy, seductive, good, open-minded, multitasker, smart, pretty, nice, smile, blue eyes, indigo child, empathetic, sympathetic, artist, alive, hoola hooper, gardener, love of animals, delicate, dancer, full of energy, never stops, always listens, day dreamer, crazy, ambitious, original, can laugh at problems, find solutions, dream, hyperactive, surreal, snoookles, older sister, leader, commented on, adored, loved, drugs, a lot, loves life, expansion of the mind, inebriation, intoxication, addiction, searching, answers, guiding, teaching, learning, crying, soft, tears, happy, over achiever, seductive, ideas, hope, music, E, GHB, pepsi, gentle, fuck me, stamina, pornography, confident, floating above cities, hovering among willows, why, three, writer, emotion creator, film maker, art director, graphic designer, picture framer, mat cutter, colour, typography, poet, excellent memory, attention to detail, walking, woods, ocean, beach, forever, wife, girlfiend

SECOND list

mistake, hate, ambivalent, relentless, effort, mangled thought patterns, Generalized anxiety disorder, ADD, ADHD, obsessive, compulsive, hair puller, skin picker, you’re the devil, trichotilomania, tendency, day dreams, lost, kicked, hit, beat up, rape, loner, nerd, are you a boy, anorexic, boy you’ve put on weight, fuck you, throttle, 24 hour, partier, workaholic, smoker, pot, cigarettes, MDMA, GHB, dumb, failure, thoughts are dumb and crazy, incoherent, belligerent, angry, sad, depression, loss, death, cut, scratch, pick, eat, don’t eat, drunk, she’s blacked out, arrogant, overdose, confused, reject, low, rumors, girls hate, pornography, catholic, bad, quiet child, abruptive, shut up, be quiet, evaporate, go away, leave me alone, throw up, pass out, die, kicking, men, force, woman farce, suffering in silence, too long, how old are you, why, sex, three, stop, bad, memory, hyper, pepsi, pain, gut hurts, chrohn’s, addict, overstimulated, hate advertising, never, divorce, unsure, can’t decide

Tomorrow I go see the doctor at Daytox. I spoke up today in the grey of Vancouver day to address all these words of mine to the nurse and councilor. There are two many eggs in my damn basket right now. I’m so grateful to everyone who has helped me over the past 6 months. The professional list is long. And in their lies the mania.

Over the past 6 months I have seen:

Addictions Doctor
Councilor A
Councilor B
Family Doctor
Psychiatrist
Nurse A
Nurse B
Councilors C, D and E

I travel to three different locations to see these people, attend their groups and get therapy. Only three times have any of them communicated with one another about what is going on with me. I’m not getting a clear answer. So now tomorrow I am going to Doctor C who is at location one. Then I go to See councilor A at location two in a few days. I then go see councilor C the day after that who at the recommendation of Councilor D and Nurse B will get all parties involved to plan out a new treatment plan. A couple of days after that I go see the Family Doctor at location three whom hopefully will have heard from Councilor C from location one. Councilor B is gone for while right now and that’s why I have councilor C. And there is supposed to be a new location added to the list. Location number four where I will meet ‘specialist’ psychiatrist. OMG!

FUCK. LOL. and good night! Something Councilor D said to me is “You do always have a way to laugh about your problems” You know in the end that is true. It makes me happy. But when I’m not laughing I’m dieing.

Any comments would be welcome!!! Is anyone out there in a similar situation?

Today is day 200. I’ve been clean of GHB for 200 days. I’m proud of that fact. I used once three weeks into my sobriety and re-committed again. I had two glasses of wine this past weekend on Saturday night and have re-committed again. I find myself hitting a tuff spot. It’s not that I want the G back but I find myself searching for something, anything to change or alter my state of mind. This feeling is familiar to me, 20 years familiar. Truth is, it feels like my life has been cycling in three or four year cycles. I’m in the down time right now. More than ever I know it’s crucial to keep going and focus. Focus being the elusive enlightenment I crave the most.

My ex-husband used to say, I would look for problems when there was none to be found, only happy in a tumultuous non-routine life. Today, f@#$! Am I searching for someone to blame… You betcha! Who in their right mind wants to blame themselves. I’ve been blaming myself most of my life! I don’t understand why it’s not ok to talk about addiction and/or mental disease. But who is saying it’s not OK? Is it you? Or is it me? Is it an ideal created by society? Such as what fashions are OK to wear and what ones are not?

I’m so tired of hiding the crazy side in me. It’s agonizing. I am so scared of what people will think? OMG! I have to let that go. I don’t even know who these people are. Are you one of the ones who will judge me because I’m crazy and like to wear orange pants on occasion? OK this is making me laugh. It’s been difficult to write by hand lately in my journal. I have this online journal now. I’ve been swaying back and forth, to and fro to write or not to write about what I want to write about online. Well – decision made.

This is the web space I payed for. Money. f@#$. See I’m censoring myself. For who?

Fuck I feel better. There.

On to business. There is this project I’ve been planning to undertake for the past two years perhaps, of typing into the computer all of my journal entries, so they are digitized. I will be able to edit them better that way. Who knows, maybe I’ll be the next James Fry. A Million Little Pieces, whether non-fiction or not, is only so, in the eyes of the beholder reading it. This book held my attention for five days until I finished reading it! He understands.

Another book I could not put down was “Addicted – notes from the belly of the beast”. It is a collection of short ‘true’ stories of writers lives and the addictions they have succumbed too, lived with, recovered from or are still dealing with.

The more one reads, reaches out, talks about the more one understand and accepts. Knowing I am not alone in my struggles and joy is inspirational.

Perhaps, drug use and the creative mind go hand in hand?