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.
I have been pondering the term addiction in how it relates to my pschy and life. It has been a while since I wrote of such. It has been many days, weeks even monthes since my last cap of GHB. The 26 of August will mark that one year has passed since I chose to live. This fact causes me to ponder am I better or worse off for that matter, could I be masking still what is inside that needs to be discussed or even just left in the dark to receed into the unknown human landscape we call forgotten memories?
It does not feel like it was yesterday to me. It does not feel like it was me, who experienced the disease of addiction. That holds true for Chron’s disease; was it me laying in a hospital bed talking to death everyday? Do people catch, get or develop a disease to communicate with the other side unknowingly, for that matter could we conciously choose to get sick? Do we choose to get better? Is better being alive and not ill? I am alive. I am not addicted to GHB anymore. But is it better? Is it better knowing that when you are sick you got attention or that when one is sick you know how to get attention? Or is illness and disease a symtom of life not death. Could it be that when we are sick we communicate life. Everything we do in life is to avoid death.
Think about that: Everything we do in life is to avoid death.
What if we accepted death to live. Continue reading
Sometimes people place fault, pass blame or simply fabricate something wrong with a person(s) when they want to leave a certain situation. Rather than trusting their own judgement, their [tag]cognitive[/tag] behavior tricks them into thinking they lack the ability to leave on their own merit. This simple idea had never entered my mind until yesterday sitting with my councillor in her office. I had been speaking to her about my attendance at Daytox and my thoughts that those employed there were tired of me and that I was picking up wierd vibes from them. How ingenious my mind has become at mangling causality; I have simply outgrown the services Daytox provides, save for the Benzodiazapine support group. Daytox and those who work there have done no wrong nor harm to me.
Why would I even think that they are out to get me? Where did I learn this [tag]behavior[/tag]? Why did everything slow down within my councillors office while she was directly speaking to me about this? The words left her mouth travelled into my ears and my brain understood. What the fuck? I actually reiterated “Yes, I think you could be right.” A little voice inside was quietly protesting “No, no, don’t believe her” but, I did. Time literally stopped.
All of a sudden I understood. What do I understand? I have the right to choose. I have been afraid to choose. I have the ability to choose not to attend Daytox without fear of being punished. Who would punish me if I don’t attend? No one at Daytox. Then who? It’s all in my mind; an [tag]allegory[/tag] developed and finely tuned over time to protect what’s mine. Whoah!
[tag]Anger[/tag] has a way of mysteriously seeping from humans. Out of fear, we react. We could scream, we cry, laugh, lie, hit, freeze, chase, shun or even die in the face of fear. Fear is our reflection in the mirrior. [tag]Fear[/tag] is assuming you have lost control. Fear is akin to addiction. [tag]Addiction[/tag] mothers the child lost. And being lost is lonely.
This lightbulb switched on yesterday. How can something be learned and understood so instantaniously? It almost felt like taking a [tag]drug[/tag] for the first time. I still feel the efftects today. Thank you Councillor A.
I left her office and proceeded to walk home. I walked and walked down streets through parks and an apparently abandonned mini amphitheatre that appeared to be used for worshipping oranges. There were orange peelings everywhere. It bordered a busy thouroughfare called Clark Drive and was close to a skytrain station. I sat down to rest creating stories up about the citrus loving people who come here to worship the God of Orange. I smoked a cigarette then continued exploring my way home using the northern mountains as my guide I diagonalled through the East Side.