Saturday, September 15, 2007


I need help guys, maybe im just an idiot or maybe there is no such things, but im trying to search the blog world.. is there a way to do this. Like if i want to search for blogs about drugs or about flowers or w.e it is ... is there a way to search?

help a sista out!

Friday, September 14, 2007

Throw'n my will around

So I have come here to rant away about my quitting smoking. I do not call my self an addict in the heroin/alcohol sense. Whether I should or not, is not a question I can answer. Being a 'normie' has lead to believe I am not entitled to that label, as surely.... I do not know ANYTHING about real addiction. So I humbly discuss my smoking- whatever it is. I have quit a number of times for various amounts of time, the longest being two years. It keeps good timing with my addict, when he relapses... I clearly need my old faithful friend, the cigarette, around to keep my morale up.

So, I had my last smoke Sunday night. Day 3 I recognize as one of the more difficult times for me and then it slowly dissipates. But.... the flashing moments of complete pissed offness I get that I can't have a cigarette (which was really a choice I made to not have a smoke) gets a little stronger. And then, there is the calm reasoning- which is what I encountered this evening.

It is completely reasonable that I should be able to have one cigarette! So what? I would have one- no one would know, and then it would be done. I would satisfy that urge and then become clear again as to why I don't want to smoke; that, it was, in fact, a choice. Sure, in fact... having one cigarette was quickly becoming the best idea I could have had. Excellent!

It's amazing how wholly and completely the addictive voice can convince you that you are talking- and not that incessant mind fuck chatter that just WANTS WHAT IT FUCKING WANTS, that you really want something that you chose not to have....

and yes, I am wearing the patch. I have nicotine acid flowing through me like electricity- electrifying my dreams.

And still, that little voice made having a cigarette the most sound idea I ever had, a thinking woman's idea, a mature idea. Fucking Fabulous.

So... now I stink and have a horrible taste in my mouth.


Doesnt it hurt

When you stick that needle in your arm, don't you feel the pain?
Is it worth it, to hurt your self only to look like a fool
What do you gain?
Spoons, syringes, razor blades, mirrors..
Things to you that are nothing but a tool

Why would someone want to intentionally cause himself pain
I know it hurts you, It has to
What could you possibly gain?
I could ask you until my face was blue
You are too numb to even answer

You are not the only one who's feels this pain
The lies you tell, the things you steal
You have nothing to gain!
The life you live, it isn't real

Doesn't it hurt...

Can you keep on living causing pain?
Every where you go it follows
What do you have to gain?
Is your heart really that hollow

Your life is dark and decrepit filled with nothing but pain
You walk down a road to nowhere
What could you possibly have to gain?
Your face is nothing but a blank stare

You are not the only one who feels this pain
If you continue on this path, there will be nothing left
You have nothing to gain!
Soon your family will put you to rest

Doesn't it hurt....

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

and the winner is.....

As I draw ever closer to my 2nd birthday in cleanland -- that elusive spot of black key tag status in Narcotics Anonymous -- I have a desire to change my blog title. My gf says I can call myself a newcomer for as long as I think it works for me (ha! smartass that she is with her near 17 years!), but I think it's time has come as I turn 2.
I have thought of many titles, but none of them seem to jump right out and grab me. Then today I saw that Mantramine had changed her title and written a bit about why. JW left a vote for another title in her comment section and an idea was born.
Why not let my people vote for a new blog name for Scout? You know me well. You know what I love and what pisses me off. You know I think I am a special addict because heroin is my beloved. You know almost all of it. So, who better to give me ideas for a new title than all of you?
Lay them on me. Serious votes (Ej corrected me and let me know that voting implies choices and did I really want suggestions)suggestions only, please, or this could turn into a real fricking free for all! (Wow, it scares me to think of what I just put out here.)

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Step 1: We Admitted We Were Powerless

This is actually a post I wrote for another joint blog I'm on (Two Women Blogging), but I thought it applied here too.

We all like to think that we have control over our own lives. We like to think that if we just work hard enough or pray hard enough or act right, we can ensure that bad things don't happen to us. It's almost unbearably frightening to think that we're not the ones calling the shots: that it's God or the universe or random subatomic particles. So, we give lip service to our ultimate inability to control what happens to us, but deep down we never believe it, do we?

We'll say things like: "It's not his fault that he got colon cancer, but still, I do eat a lot of fiber. It's not their fault that their child is disabled, but still, I wouldn't have made the choices she did during pregnancy and childbirth. It's not her fault that she was raped, but still, I wouldn't wear that outfit. It's not her fault that her husband cheated, but still, she probably should have done more to satisfy him." We always think there really was a little something more those other people could have done. We would have eaten better, exercised more, prayed harder, worn different clothing, watched our children more carefully, done background checks on every last friend and neighbor, taken every precaution in every situation, right? We believe that we're luckier or smarter or that God likes us better. And as long as things go right, we can believe that.

My husband is a sex addict. He's like any other addict looking for a high, but his escape comes in the form sex and fantasy: affairs, pornonography, sex workers. There are people who blame him for being weak and immoral, but they also blame me, for somehow not satisfying him. I've met the wives of other sex addicts, and they too usually blame themselves to some degree: if only they were prettier, thinner, more exciting in bed...

Our culture constantly reinforces that stereotype: men are thoughtless pigs who will fuck anything that breathes if they aren't kept constantly satisfied by a beautiful, exciting woman with a ravenous sexual appetite. Look at the supermarket magazine rack. What does Cosmopolitan magazine (more aptly titled "Sexual Codependents magazine") tell us? Why do we love the stories of celebrity breakups? Is it because we know, beautiful as they are, there must be something wrong with them if they can't keep their lovers satisfied?

I was certain that my husband would never cheat on me, not only did he love me, deeply and passionately, we had a fabulous sex life. I wasn't like those other uptight women who couldn't orgasm or who had a low sex drive or who thought pornography was immoral or who wouldn't change up positions or wear kinky lingerie. I didn't need Cosmo to tell me how to make things hot in the bedroom; I was hot in the bedroom. I'd read, watch and look at pornography; I'd even create pornography; I'd send him stories and photos and videos of myself. I'd dress like a prostitute one night, a virgin the next. I'd ask him to tell me his fantasies and let me fulfill them. But more than in the bedroom, in all of our life, I was attractive, I was smart, I shared his interests and I let him be himself. Men cheated on women who hated action movies and sports and sci-fi, women who nagged them about leaving their socks on the floor and talked about shopping and wore frumpy sweatpants, women who were mindless and ultimately dull, women who were unattractive in their looks or their personalities. Men didn't cheat on women like me.

My husband was never faithful to me: not for a day, not for an instant. He was constantly looking for other women to have sex with, not because I wasn't satisfying him, but because nothing could fill the emptiness inside him. All the women and all the sex in all the world couldn't meet his needs. He couldn't control his addiction, and neither could I. We both had to let go of that illusion in order to heal. And I knew as soon as he came clean and told me about all the lies and cheating, knew in a way that I could feel at that deep down gut level, that his actions had nothing to do with me or his love for me.

Of course, we all know that that's because I'm luckier than those other addicts' partners or I did the right thing by trying so hard or God likes me better or something like that...

Reduction Redux

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At an AA meeting recently a speaker sharing his story mentioned harm reduction and how, well, that didn't really work for him. He spoke of how he would drink until he couldn't drink any more and then, as his own form of harm reduction, he would use speed. When he couldn't use speed any more he would turn to pot. After a while when that wasn't working he would return to alcohol. His point was that it was alcohol that brought him to his knees and gave him his bottom. No one could argue that point because it was, after all, his story. But one of the discussion comments after his share was someone who stated how she appreciated him speaking of harm reduction and how for her such a model for recovery was useless. She wished someone would tell the city and other funding and recovery organizations that harm reduction was a joke... a waste of time and money. There are many times I have wanted to speak at these meetings but none more than this time. But I have made it my goal right now to just go to meetings and listen. I am there to feel good and, for now, am not looking to risk that feeling by getting up on my soap box with an opposing view. So I will do it here instead.

I understand people's frustration with the concept of harm reduction. It IS a concept that in reality doesn't fully work. On the face of it it seems that there is a permission given to use or drink in a manageable way which totally goes against the grain of a twelve step program where the basis for recovery lies in how this issue of drinking and drugging has made life unmanageable. This does seem "wrong." I have never tried harm reduction myself. Instead I chose to use about a hundred times more than I needed to just to be certain that using and me was not a combination that was going to be helpful or enjoyable in any way. But in my recovery I have witnessed many, many people who have come to the same decision I have to not use ever again by employing the harm reduction model. People I know have used this model of recovery to come to the understanding through their own experience that using isn't going to work for them no matter how hard they try and manage their use. In many cases they did not have to lose their life completely to come to this understanding. They could retain their jobs and though relationships sufferred some where not completely severed. For some this was because of the harm reduction experience. They also came to the decision to seek a better life on their own. Indisputably, if telling people that using drugs were bad for them would make them quit, life for so many would be a whole lot easier. I think everyone whose life has been touched by addiction knows that simply is not enough. So there is great value in having a path to take that will reduce the harm along the way.

Even though harm reduction is akin to being suckered into a vacation get-away only to be corralled into a sales meeting to induce one to spend money on a time share, it is a way to get the addicted on the road to a complete recovery. It does reduce not only the harm they do to themselves but also the harm done to people's families, loved ones and community. It is easier to loosen one's commitment to using or drinking if the carrot of managing their addiction is dangled in front of them. Hopefully with a little clarity that might come of this scam, people can see there is a way and that way is better. It cannot hurt more than it already does to offer up yet one more way of getting better—perhaps one that does not sting as much.

I look forward to the day when one of my amends might be, "Sorry I tricked you into getting clean."

Stepping it up

I started a 12 step writing workshop last night. We're using the book, The 12 Steps, a Way Out. I love this format. The little Naranon step study booklet just isn't enough for me to really delve into and work the steps. I love the book we're using. It has enough of a balance of people who've come before me sharing stories that sound remarkably like mine, with room for me to write my own story. As I've been working the steps with my sponsor, I've drawn from this book. What I love even more about the writing workshop is the group process. The group is not closed yet, but it will be within the next few weeks. And there's a contract for us each to sign, with agreements like, "I will be as honest as possible in all things, especially with regard to what I am learning about myself- past and present." And "I will accept any discomfort or unsettling behavior changes that I may experience as a result of working the Twelve Steps." I like the fact that as a group, we can hold each other accountable. I like using the writing process, having the freedom to make it mine, and the guidance of people who have come before me showing me a way.

I just edited the last two words above from "the" way to "a" way. I also like the fact that the book we're using is NOT titled, "THE Way Out", but "A Way Out." As a member of a number of minority groups, two of which are Jewish and Gay, I'm a firm believer that there is not just ONE way. This 12 step program is something that I choose, because it helps me. It's not the only way. But it's MY way. And I'm excited about this leg of my journey.