90 days sober

I wish my insides matched my outsides.

Then I could more than halfway feel pretty.

Then when that creep gives the animal call,

Then when that man gives the nod,

Then I could muster up

The look in my eyes that matches the pain in my heart to say“fuck you”

Oh why can’t I, oh God?

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Just a Thought

Upon waking this morning I touched my face and realized it is one of the few things we cannot see on our bodies; unless of course we look at it through the reflection of a mirror. It is however, the first thing people look at when they see us. Just a thought. A bit disturbing.

Kicking It: a journal entry detoxing from opiates

I would give anything for a pain pill right about now, speaking both physically and
metaphorically… the pain is just too great.20131027_145643

I feel the heaviest weight on me; it is not easy to explain how it feels to have your life in front of you and you cannot push through or even see through to arrive at another day.

One might observe my life and wonder what on earth I have to be depressed about, my casualties could be so much worse.  But I suppose that is all relative considering each person holds their own level of tolerance.

Indeed that is true, which makes it even harder to endure because I want
to reach down inside myself and scream “What is wrong with you?

There is nothing to be in turmoil about, you are a blessed woman, now act like it!”

There is a tape that keeps playing in my head. I hate my life. Over and over. I hate myself. Over and over.

The screaming in my head just will not cease.

I want to pull the covers over my head until there is no light coming through. There is definitely no light in  my heart.

Every once in a while I turn on my computer
with some glimmer of hope that my dreams might come true. Subsequently, my past blocks the opening.

I feel broken and shut down. How can something that is no longer happening take precedence over the present and future?

Just because I used to be a junkie and a thief doesn’t
make me unable to have a future helping other junkies and thieves, who most likely really need to hear what I have to say.

It is possible now to be accredited academically and have little
or no common sense while proceeding to be a police officer, a probation officer, a victim’s advocate. This frustrates me.

I want to be all of these people because I don’t want to be me. I’m not even sure I know me.
People say I’m beautiful. I don’t see it. People tell me I’m smart. I don’t feel it.

The battle is in my mind. Part of me wants to go the gym and be pretty and healthy.

The other part of me wants to drink and pop pills. I can’t decide. Actually I can. I want to be healthy, but it’s just so hard to get there…I can see it, but it’s so far away.
The common denominator is false on both sides. I want to appear perfect on the outside as to somehow create an illusion of happiness, because I do smile when I feel pretty. Don’t we all?

However, being numb from intoxication is also an illusion because I can choose to no longer feel all of this.
So the bottom line is that I just can’t sit here and be content with myself.

I know it comes from the inside, but how do I fix my insides when I’m sick. So what do I do? Numb my insides or fix my outsides? I feel paralyzed and alone.

Why does self destruction sound so good, so intriguing?

The goal is not to be perfect, it is to be whole.

Inside Outside

I appear normal to the average person. Although at the same time, if anyone could hear what was happening inside my head,
they would for sure deem me as crazy. I am fat. I am gross. My stomach is big and squishy. I look pregnant. I hate that I have
no self-control when it comes to food. I eat healthy all day, and then at night I drink wine and eat until I go to bed. I need the wine
to relax me, but it impairs my judgment and stimulates my appetite. I feel horrible the next day. I feel horrible now. I ate three
bowls of cereal last night after my two glasses of wine. One after the other. I knew I would feel ugly this morning, but when I am
robotically moving the spoon back and forth between my mouth and the bowl, I care of nothing but that moment, the giving in to
my sickness, the momentary justification that I can eat whatever I want because I can, because I’m really not as fat as I feel.
Not compared to other people. People cannot really see under my shirt. They don’t know how gross I am. They don’t know
how ugly I tell myself I am when I look in the mirror, when I feel my fat, when I look down and the only thing I see is my tummy
sticking out farther than it should from my shirt. Today is definitely a loose shirt day at work. You know I made it all day at work
without cramming a cupcake in my mouth. I even left there last night without taking a cookie. I was craving sugar all evening.
This is a huge indicator when I begin obsessing. I can’t rid it from my head. It’s right there in the front overpowering every other
thought. I should’ve known I would blow it when I got home. Why do I have to keep that shit in the house. No cookies. No cake.
No sugar cereal. I’ll eat it all in one night. I cannot overlook it.
When I am serving customers at work, I look at them while they are standing there, drooling over what cupcakes they should
buy, intent as though this were the most important decision they will ever make, I stare at them and wonder how they can be
comfortable being however overweight they are. I imagine what they look like without their shirt. How can they have sex? Aren’t they
embarrassed? The skinny girls. How can eat these cupcakes. I guess they have a fast metabolism and it doesn’t affect them.
It’s not healthy though. They shouldn’t be eating them! I stare in envy, in awe that people don’t care about this. That these
people are oblivious to the horror that goes on in my head every moment. I want to be free of it. I want to eat cupcakes and not
feel ruined. I want to live and not feel overwhelmed and robbed of any joy that may be waiting for me. I deserve to not have to
feel this, but I don’t know how. I feel disgusting. I actually scrubbed myself extra hard in the shower as if I could get rid of this
feeling. As if I could change who I am, what I’ve let happen to myself. I am going to super supplements today before work to try
and find an appetite suppressant. I know they don’t really work. I can’t afford it, but I need something. It’s psychological. I need
anything to stop me from eating. Anything. I’ll do anything. I am so uncomfortable in my own skin right now. My clothes don’t fit. I
am hungry. This is unbearable. This is unacceptable. I am unacceptable.