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. If sites like http://www.recovery.com talk about it all the time, why don’t we?

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?