Saturday, November 24, 2007


Here's the rules:

  • Link to the person’s blog who tagged you.
  • Post these rules on your blog.
  • List seven things you're grateful to have learned in recovery.
  • Tag seven people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
  • Let each person know that they have been tagged by posting a comment on their blog. Scout

1. That there is a God.
2. And I am good enough to have a god.
3. How to be honest even when a lie would appear to serve me better.
4. Learned how to trust another human being.
5. Know how to walk though lifes ups and downs without picking up.
6. Mastered the art of calling someone and asking for help.
7. That I am only as sick as the secrets I keep.

I am tagging:
2. Inmates Wife
3. Tanya Marie
4. Married to my ex
5. EJ
7. Some how would like to share

Friday, November 23, 2007

Just a little rant

Why is it so hard to end relationships?
Why do we stay with people who make us unhappy?

I always used to watch those lifetime movies about the wives whos husbands would treat them horribly, beat them and cheat on them. They would stay with him until he killed her or until she killed him. I always used to ask my self "How could anyone stay in such an abusive relationship?" i never got it...

I'm not saying i get it now.. but it kinda makes more sense to me. He didn't abuse me deff not physically anyway. But there is the emotional abuse whether its intentional or not, It's there.
I continued to say. Do i like to get treated like shit? Do i like to be made to feel like a fool, like I'm worthless?

I can't seem to get it..Why stay? Why did i stay for so long? and im still dealing with this we are "broken up" but idk. It's really bothering me. Why do i stay and continue to feel like shit and cry everyday? Why do i let someone get the best of me and continue to make me feel this way? Am i really that weak?

...Cry for help...

Tuesday, November 20, 2007


I have been tossing and turning since I posted that last post. Mostly because it somehow feels like self serving gobshite ( a word I can't seem to get out of my head). Fuckery.

It isn't. Fuckery, that is. Self serving- perhaps. Fuckery? No.

It's just that I came from such fabulous insanity, and the only way I could spend my life, intimately, with someone else is if they, too, experienced insanity. Why?

I don't know, other than that is the only thing that ever felt right. I needed someone that was broken- too.

But, there is a catch to this broken. Who ever I was to be with had to be broken, but then they had to pull themselves up from the depth of despair with their finger nails and chose to live for themselves. Chose to live well, despite the odds. Fuck the odds.

What would you expect of a little girl who spent the first conscious years of her life in the grips of a man who laughed at her as she wore the mess of his abuse? And, who had to laugh with him, or he would give her something to cry about. Then this little girl spent occasional Sundays submersed in alcohol induced insanity- with her real father who she didn't know and never would. And grandparents, one of which who only grabbed her preteen breast on special holidays, when he was really drunk, after her grandmother urged her physically to "sit on your futhers knee . Go...veronna(again, she meant grandfather)." The cheek of him and her.

Where would you expect that little girl to be? On the street, selling her body? You wouldn't be alone. I saw it in there eyes as I grew up, rebellious- they thought I was there.

Oh, dear.

And then there is a boy.

This isn't a sad story- although, I understand it evokes that emotion. It is just a story about a girl and a boy, who against the odds grew up, grew up to want something more for themselves. Chose to live well, to live happy. Then they met each other.

Considering my requirement of having someone in my life that could appreciate life the same way I did and do, I think that the odds are incredibly small that, who ever that person was, that they wouldn't have addiction issues. I think, that I am not addicted to anything more sever than cigarettes is amazing.

So, there it is. Beside me stands a man that can understand and know where I came from and I him- and, we don't have to talk about it. It just happens, that after all that, he is a heroin addict... in recovery.

My point being- sometimes it's not that people choose to stay with an addict, they chose to stay with someone that has an addiction.

I think there is a difference. I know there is.

mantra: there but for the grace of god go I