My story started when I was around seven. I started injuring myself. That went on unnoticed until I was about twelve, when my mom confronted me. After a big “fight” or whatever you want to call it, I told her straight up that, “I cut myself.” It was the first time I ever admitted out loud what I was doing. Also around twelve or eleven, I started doing drugs. It began pretty innocently, I guess. I was asking regularly for Adderoll from my boyfriend at the time to help me to study or to lose weight. Eventually, it ran my life. I wouldn’t eat for days, sometimes a week, at a time. I’d stay up all night either exercising or studying. That kept on until I was about thirteen, when I started smoking marijuana, drinking, and taking other kind of pills.

The drugs were doing for me what I couldn’t do myself. All I wanted was to feel better, and that was easily accomplished through getting plastered or stoned out of my mind. Oblivion was easy for me and extremely comfortable. My dad and mom then began taking me to regular ER visits for attempted suicide or stitches. I began to go to different psych wards around Houston and I started running away and getting locked up shortly after that.

By the time I was 16, I had tried AA more than once and accumulated thirteen months of being a dry drunk. I was most definitely not sober. I was still going to inpatient places even after I got sober off the drugs and alcohol for my self-injury. I had found out about AA through a rehabilitation center, where I stayed 2-3 months. I began to go to meetings, and Youth AA Groups, such as APGs (Alternative Peer Groups).

Two APGs and about two years later, at ten months sober (the most I had ever had since I started using), I went to inpatient in Denton for my self-injury. The epitome of a dry drunk: Once having removed the alcohol and drugs, I was left with feelings, emotions, thoughts, and actions, which would normally be taken out under the influence. Without any type of a spiritual experience, I couldn’t change my life. I was “white-knuckling” it, as the AAs said. I was miserable, discontent, angry, and so on. I was still acting out on my worst addiction: self-injury. When you’re in jail, it’s pretty damn hard to get some drugs or alcohol. But no matter where I went, self-injury was an easy accessible tool. So I went to Denton to seek help.

I was raped in Denton, and therefore had a lot of resentments towards the place I went to, God, the rapist, the hotel, etc. etc. Most of all, I was angry at God because in my eyes, I had gone to get help and stop self-injuring, and then that happened. For a very long time, I felt as if it was God trying to tell me I wasn’t ready to stop cutting. What a delusion that was! But they were my feelings, and therefore legit. I was very angry for a long time because I wanted God in my life and I wanted to stop hurting and to stop harming myself, and then someone else harms me. I didn’t think it was fair. Now I realize that God does throw curve balls, but I don’t need to justify it. I needed to take it as it came, accept it, realize that bad things happen to good people, learn, heal, talk about it, and move on.

After the rape, I stayed sober for about 4-5 more months until I put myself in a position to get high again. I wasn’t thinking about getting high, it just happened. Once again: I was without defense against the first drink/drug. I ran away that day for about three days and when I tried hitch hiking home, the woman that had picked me up flagged a policeman down. I was taken into custody, and my dad picked me up later that day from the juvenile detention center. After that, I went to another placement and decided to run away from there. I ran away with someone else and lived on the streets for about a month and a half.

Within that month and a half, I learned how to sell my body, and I began a life of drugs all over again. I had never done “hard drugs” before I ran away, and by the time I came back, I was hooked on crack and had done meth, ecstasy, cocaine, and several others as well. For a long time I only saw myself as a crackwhore. It was really hard for me to look myself in the mirror and accept who I was and what I had become. I had lost all knowledge that I didn’t have to be that way. So when I got back home, I chose to continue doing drugs, just not to that extreme. This was around March 2008. I continued to go to school high and I had no self-respect.

Eventually, my actions caught up to me and I was locked up for assault and domestic violence. I had hit my dad. The abuse I caused him went on for years before I finally “got caught,” but today I’m glad. My dad and I have an amazing relationship and when I talk to other people about him, I often refer to him as my “knight in shining armor.” He’s always been there for me through everything and has never left nor rejected me. He’s always loved me for exactly who I am. “I don’t love the things you do, but I love the person you are,” he often says. So when I sobered up in jail after the assault, I had a lot of guilt and shame riding on my back, to the point of where I couldn’t speak to him civilly in a window visitation while in JDC.

I got out on house arrest fifteen days later, and still thought I could play the system. I thought probation and house arrest were merely jokes. Two days later, I was back in jail, under the influence. After not coming home for two days straight, my dad caught me and turned me in. I was so mad at him at first. I remember telling him I hated him and I hoped he would die. I live with that every day, now. Yet, I know things don’t ever have to be that way anymore. From JDC, they sent me to a rehabilitation center in North Texas since I had been admitted under the influence for the second time.

I spent nine months in that rehab, and everyday I live today; I thank God for the events that caused me to go there. I don’t think I would have ever sobered up again on my own, no matter how much God I had. I think it really took a lot of time away from that kind of atmosphere to gain a clear head and decide not to use again. I cut for the first month I was in there, and then realized that cutting wasn’t getting me anywhere either.

As far as what it’s like now, I have to maintain a spiritual connection with my higher power, because I know that if I don’t then I’ll end up right back where I started from. Today I’m so grateful that I don’t EVER have to be that person that I used to be, and I believe that is the greatest miracle God or recovery could have ever given me. I’ve been through a lot, and today I consider myself a survivor. I don’t act anything like I used to and ultimately I’m just not the same girl that I used to be. I can’t really express my gratitude anymore than that. I’m happy, joyous and free today and for that, I thank God. I value my freedom more than anything today, and right now I don’t wish to put anything in it’s way. I’ve spent about an accumulated two years behind gates and fences and maximum security places. Today, I don’t want to live that way anymore. I want to live my life the way I’ve always dreamed of and be successful. I know I can accomplish all things through Christ, and that’s my plan.

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I was once living on the streets and I had no other way to support my habit than to go sell my body. It’s a degrading thing to do, and today I still can’t seem to forgive myself. Yesterday I cried throughout the meeting because all I could think about was how I’ll never belong because of what I was and what I’ve been through. How wrong was I? I’m sitting in a group full of women who in one way or another, been through what I’ve been through and I was completely isolated by my own mechanisms. One thing that a woman shared with me is this: Isolation leads to fear, fear leads to anger, and anger leads back to our old ways like drinking, drugging, cutting, overeating, starving ourselves, and so on and so forth.

I really liked this because ultimately, I think that’s why I relapsed after being dry for thirteen months. I isolated like no other and even had people tell me it was to the point to where it was a character defect. Of course, I shut down and wouldn’t speak to them EVER again after that, because they hurt my feelings. It’s so true, though… My isolation in the past led to my fear of never being wanted. This made me angry because I was mad at myself for isolating and putting myself in the position to not be wanted. I eventually used again and repeating the alcoholic/addict cycle.

Another woman told me something else that I really related to and latched on to. I have eating issues. I either starve myself, or I’ll overeat and either feel disgusting or make myself throw it up. Lately I’ve been eating a LOT, and just not bother to throw it up. I’ve tried a couple times in all honesty, but it wasn’t satifying. Then one of the women told me I was overeating as a defense mechanism. I’ve gained 60lbs. since I quit smoking crack and now? I hide behind my weight, hoping no one will look at me yet at the same time craving that old attention. It’s a lose-lose situation. I’ve gained weight and am now unhealthy, I don’t want to be looked at, yet I still am. Go figure… I guess that’s just the way the world works., People will look, people will judge, and people will come to their own conclusions. Whether I’m an ugly duckiling or a beautiful swan doesn’t matter to other people. What matters is what I think of myself.

In the meeting yesterday, we also talked about success. One of the reasons I was crying was because I have been successful, but I feel like it’s not recognized. I’m off the streets, I have food to eat, I’m getting an education on IMPORTANT things, not the street life and gang banging knowledge. I don’t sell myself short, and I make people deserve waht they get from me. That’s a blessing. Yet, yesterday I felt so sad because I wasn’t recognized. Granted, I was in a meeting where the women don’t really know me on a personal level, I still wanted that recognition.

“Selfishness, self-centeredness. That, we thought, was the root of all our troubles.” is what the big book says. Maybe if I let these wonderful people in and become a part of my life, I’d feel recognized. But I think the important thing I learned last night is this: I was being selfish. “What about me?” I thought, “Why do all these people have such great things to be said about them and I don’t? Aren’t I special too?” I am. I just didn’t think about that at the time. Someone told me I was taking the aphorism, “Think, think, think” too literal. Really, the aphorism is meant to say: Think about something once, think about it twice, maybe even think about it a third time and then just STOP. That hit the nail on the head for me. I love to sit on my pity pot. I used to say I sat on it SO much that it was embellished with all my personal keepsakes, jewels, fur, whatever. The point I was trynig to get across was that I sat on it SO much, it had become my natural state. Yesterday, I feel into my old ways.

What did I do? I talked to my sponsor, I talked to other SOBER women in the program, and I got over myself. I got into the solution instead of wallowing in the problem. I have an appointment next Wednesday for the doctor to see if I need surgery again, and I asked a woman to go with me that’s very dear to me. She’s been through the same things as I have and knows where I’m coming from. Although, I’d love to think that’s RARE, it’s really not… If I sat in a group of women in sobriety and point blank said, “I smoked crack, I sold my body for it, and now I’m living with the consequences,” they’d all probably relate. THAT right there, is the beauty of alcoholics anonymous as well as narcotics anonymous.

Today, I try to live in the solution. A lot of the time I need reminders to stay there and it’s hard. But I’ve come so far for being where I was at. Most people can’t get out. It’s too hard for them. Today, I consider myself a survivor. I’m a strong, beautiful woman and I need to recognize that MYSELf more often…

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Forgiveness usually stems from resentments, which we all know are in lament’s terms: bad. Not only does the big book say, “Resentment is the number one offender,” but also this:

It is plain that a life which includes deep resentment leads only to futility and unhappiness. To the precise extent that we permit these, do we squander the hours that might have been worth while. But with the alcoholic, whose hope is the maintenanc e and growth of a spiritual experience, this business of resentment is infinitely grave. We found that it is fatal. For when harboring such feeling we shut ourselves off from the sunlight of the Spirit. The insanity of alcohol returns and we drink again. And with us, to drink is to die.

Big Book pg. 66

These are my favorite words from the big book aside from the Acceptance prayer.. Okay well maybe the big book is just my favorite book of all times. That’s easier to say. So basically, what this saying is resentments will make you feel like crap. We tried to justify them, but it didn’t work. If we want to grow spiritually, harboring resentments won’t help for if we hang on to our resentments, we will be apart from God. Insanity will continue, and for us, drinking is deadly.

The second meeting I went to on forgiveness is probably what really struck a chord in me. The chairperson talked about how she used to hold resentments about a rape that happened eight years ago. Go figure. Rape is something I’ve been struggling a lot with as far as my feelings. Doctors say we go through a grief process: Denail and Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance. I believe the grief process is something that all of us go to not only when we lose people, but when we lose something. For me, I lost my drug and alcohol abuse – my main escape into oblivion. I’m now at acceptance with this. I lost my self-injury – I’ve definitely come to terms with this. But with death, it’s a whole different story. It’s so much harder for me to go through the loss of someone I knew, let alone a loved one than it is to grieve for my lost addictions.

Sometimes I think I’m still in denial with my rape. I think about how it happened and I’ll try to justify that it “wasn’t really rape, even if my boundaries were crossed.” I see the insanity in that, but a part of me sees the truth in it as well. I think rape is one of the hardest things to deal with because although there’s a definite line between rape and consensual sex, it’s a whole different story in the realm of molestion, rape, being taken advantage of, etc. etc.

Though I think I’ve dealt with my anger concerning the rape, and I believe I forgive the person, I still feel denial. I guess that’s what I don’t understand about the grief process. Here’s what I found on denial while googling the Grief Process.

Denial, for instance, is a defense mechanism people use to block the conscious recognition of specific information.

http://www.usd.edu/med/som/genetics/curriculum/4DGRIEF4.htm

That kind of hit me hard. So denial is simply a defense mechanism for blocking what really did happen… or did it happen? I guess that’s where I’m confused. I’ve written forgiveness letters to my rapist about how I forgive then and I won’t let them control my life anymore, but I still seem stuck on it. Which brings me to my next point.

The second meeting I was at on forgiveness, I took it more seriously and asked God to speak through other people to me. I think He did. One man talked about how he carried everything that burdens us around in a ten thousand pack of shit. We carry it around and drop off some of it in some places (telling people about it) and then just stuff it back in the sack. Ultimately, they were not letting go. I heard another man speak on how he carried around his little story, or past, in a wagon tied to a string. He spoke of how eventually he had to let go of the string.

I heard a lot of really good things in the meeting and now I think I realize something: I’ve been carrying this CRAP around with me for so long, telling anyone my sob story who will listen. I wanted to feel sorry for myself because it was more comfortable than trying to progress and make something or someone of myself. Today, I see myself as a young woman, trying to rise from the ashes. It’s hard, but I think the biggest think I need to learn is how to let go of things. If I can let go of this one last burden (okay, maybe not “one last”), then I could move on. There are still a lot of things I feel that hold me back. There’s also a list of things that I need to learn to accept and forgive.

There’s a song I REALLY like that I shared with my sponsor yesterday. It’s by a Christian band called Superchick about how God can bring us up out of whatever we’ve been through. Here’s the lyrics:

“Beauty From Pain”

The lights go out all around me
One last candle to keep out the night
And then the darkness surrounds me
I know i’m alive but i feel like i’ve died
And all that’s left is to accept that it’s over
My dreams ran like sand through the fists that i made
I try to keep warm but i just grow colder
I feel like i’m slipping away

After all this has passed, i still will remain
After i’ve cried my last, there’ll be beauty from pain
Though it won’t be today,
Someday i’ll hope again
And there’ll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

My whole world is the pain inside me
The best i can do is just get through the day
When life before is only a memory
I’ll wonder why God lets me walk through this place
And though i can’t understand why this happened
I know that i will when i look back someday
And see how you’ve brought beauty from ashes
And made me as gold purified through these flames

After all this has passed, i still will remain
After i’ve cried my last, there’ll be beauty from pain
Though it won’t be today,
Someday i’ll hope again
And there’ll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

Here i am, at the end of me
Tryin to hold to what i can’t see
I forgot how to hope
This night’s been so long
I cling to Your promise
There will be a dawn

After all this has passed, i still will remain
After i’ve cried my last, there’ll be beauty from pain
Though it won’t be today,
Someday i’ll hope again
And there’ll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

That’s my processing for the day. On a lighter note, I had my first day of work yesterday. It was long and rather boring and I as only there for four hours. But it pays, and I don’t mind it that much. The guy I work for is a pretty neat guy, and there’s a lot of instruments to play around with while I’m there. Hell, I’m actually seriously thinking about taking up the banjo. They have a 5-string and several books. So I don’t know. Whatever happens, happens. And with that, I bid you adieu.

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School on Monday was … horrendous. I spent two or three hours trying to get admitted because the rehab I was at did not have a working fax machine. Therefore, they couldn’t get all my transcripts in. After three class periods later, I was off to class. My schedule had been established as two core classes: English III and Geometry and all the rest are electives: Study Hall, Student Aide, PE, Journalism and Orchestra. Since I’d been waiting so long, it was already fourth period. Off to geometry.

It went pretty bad. You know those classes where everyone picks on the teacher and on each other, are loud and in general just plain distracting? It was one of those classes. On top of everything else, I had no idea what the teacher was trying to teach because I didn’t pay attention to geometry prior to this school. That’s my loss.

Once I was put out of my misery and the bell rang, I went ahead to my next classes and lunch. I was lonely at lunch, but I survived. The next day was MUCH better.

First period, I had my first orchestra class in a VERY long time, but I think I sight-read the music pretty well. I got a disc on Friday to practice with so I can get the rhythms right. We’re playing pretty basic songs because for now I’m in the lowest orchestra, simply because I hadn’t auditioned for another one and we only have nine weeks left of school.

I had my ARD meeting on Tuesday in the morning and it turns out most of my credits transferred over. I was so happy, I probably could’ve cried. I am .5 credits away from officially being a junior and I plan on taking Distance Courses through Texas Tech while I’m in Ohio visiting my mom this summer. If I don’t go to Ohio, I’ll probably just take summer school at one of the local high schools.

Wednesday was a much better day, as was Thursday and Friday. I have officaliy completed my first week back at school. It’s going very well. I have a friend, who actually came over and we hung out on Friday. She’s good for me, so it’s okay.

I haven’t blogged in forever and for that, I feel sad. I hate to say it, but I feel like Delicate Melody is one of those things where I have a couple of great ideas, I find somewhere to host them, and then I just loose interest. Except I’m not so much loosing interest as I am confused about what I want to do with Delicate Melody and then there’s always the anxiety-provoking and cliché writer’s block. I have, however, been working on a research paper for English. It doesn’t have a name, but the basics of it is this: Find a thesis you want to write about concerning life and then back it up with a literary piece, a historical event, and a current event.

I have decided to write about how media affects our culture negatively. This is what I have so far:

Today’s media is cajoling our culture into a generation of hate, self-loathing, and utter filth. We are being bogged down and intoxicated by what media portrays the standards and morals of the “average” teenage American. We live in a world full of reckless choices: drinking and driving, drug abuse, risky sex and so on and so forth. Our generation today is suppised to lead our tomorrow. We live in such an economically and morally run down world where the average American is unhappy with their lives.

The media makes the people unhappy and live more chaotic lives than we would have left to our own devices. Tuesdays with Morrie is a book based n learning life’s lessons, Morrie, a man who died from ASL (or more commonly known as “Lou Gherig’s Disease”), touches on everal key points on living life and simply being human. Morrie was a sociology teacher at Brandeis University. He said before he passed that, “the culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves.” (Tuesdays with Morrie pg. 42) Our culture is sick and the media is the root of our troubles.

Look around you and what do you see and hear? Weight loss commercials and advertisements, fad diets, plastic surgery, even diet pill advertisements. They say that there’s always room to improve here in America. That’s far from the truth. People should not change to fit American “standards and morals” to live a successful life. So many Americans struggle with body image.

….

My current even which is what I was working on when I stopped writing is Anorexia. i’ve struggled with eating disorders myself, so I know what it’s life to have poor body image and self-esteem. This is something I feel very strong about. And now that I’m on the other side of it, looking in, I realize that I was unhappy with myself not only because of the choices I made and consequences I faced, but also because of the media telling me what I should look like. All around me, there are models weighing under 100lbs, and here I am twice that, although I haven’t always weighed that much. In my addictions, I weight about 120lbs to 130lbs. Granted sobriety weight is a bitch, I would much rather be bigger than I was before and HAPPY, then utterly miserable and “skinny,” whatever that is.

My historical event for my research paper is “Shotgun Weddings”. When Bristol Palin was forced to hold hands with Levi Johnston at her mother, Sarah Palin, at the Repubican National Convention, something struck me. As I faced my consequences, now she must face hers. Pregnant at seventeen years old and now in a position where she was forced to become engaged, Bristol faces hard times. A “shotgun wedding” is defined as a marriage arranged by the woman and/or the woman’s family when the woman becomes pregnant. This relates to my paper because media and our culture believe that sex is glamorous. It’s fun and risky, therefore we should all do it. When really, people are ending up pregnant and with STDs. This is something I feel strongly about as well, simply because I’ve been in those kind of positions.

Sex is meant for two people who love each other, not for an adrenaline rush.

All in all… I think life is a learning process. Almost a trial and error thing. If something doesn’t work, do it differently next time. Obviously the drugs, cutting, and believe I was a fat monster didn’t work for me so now I have to work on living a happy, joyous, and free lifestyle. That means doing the next right thing and following what I am SUPPOSED to be doing it. It’s a hard path, but it’s not as hard as the other lifestyle I was living. Something I have to keep telling myself constantly is that the strong are those who change and get to the other side, not the ones that can go through things and then continue to live the same lifestyle. The weak are those who refuse… They refuse to change and their life is Hell.

Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself, but I think I’ve finally beat my writer’s block.

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For most self-injurers, it’s not about “attention,” it’s about feelings. Granted it might have started out as attention-seeking, self-injury is extremely addicting. I’ve done drugs, and I am a drug addict. However, I think I would have to say that self-injury was harder for me to overcome than my crack/cocaine addiction. I started self-injuring at the age of seven. I am now seventeen and it’s been eight months since I have self-harmed – the longest stretch of time I’ve ever gone free of self-injury. For me, it started as attention. I always had a low self-esteem and the constant thought that no one noticed or cared. So when I was seven, I started scratching my arms raw at the dinner table.

No one said anything until I was eleven or twelve. That was when it got bad. At age eleven, I started experimenting with box-cutters (X-acto blades) and it was no longer about attention. Very quickly, my experimentation lead into an addiction. I was no longer self-harming because I wanted people to see me, it was now all about how I dealt with myself and coped.

When I was twelve, I moved to self-injuring razorblades. By this time, I was also using drugs – specifically marijuana and pills. Although I wasn’t using drugs daily quite yet, I was self-harming on several occasions per day, every day. It got really bad. But not only was it bad for myself, I was also harming my parents, my brother, my family, and my friends in ways I couldn’t fathom until I finally stopped. I had several people try to tell me this, but at the time all I could do was scoff at them.

When I was thirteen, I had my first suicide attempt through self-injury. It happened because not only did I have one person in my life constantly telling me to do it (he was kind of abusive), but I had also found out my parents were going through with a divorce. I remember thinking, “Well, that’s great. Just add one more thing to our broken home…” My father ended up taking me to the ER, I received stitches, and went on my way.

My self-harm progressed for three more years. In that course of three years, I lived through another suicide attempt at sixteen and I accumulated scar after scar. In those three years, I also went in and out of psychiatric wards for my self-harm and drug usage. I even went to a self-injury specific program in Denton, Texas called UBH. Through all the programs and all the help I tried to get, I still continued to self-injury. Maybe it was because I wasn’t ready yet and still had to hit a bottom, but I really don’t know. Some things are just left the unknown, I suppose.

However, the point is that I’m ready now. I spent the last eleven months locked up in both a Juvenile Detention Center and a nine month rehab. In fact, my first month and a half in rehab, I was STILL self-harming. Eventually, I started really getting into God at church programs we had there at the rehab. I also threw myself into my recovery and came to the conclusion that I don’t ever want to be that person I used to be.

I read one of the comments on my dad’s blog entry about my self-harm.

I want to say from a personal perspective, as an adult who was there – we get beyond it. We grow up and move on … It passes. One day, maybe like me she’ll wake up and wonder who that person was, that she was, who did that to herself.
– Joely Black

And that really hit be, because one of the biggest things I think about recently is: “Why did I have to go through all that CRAP to get to where I am today?” Really though, I believe that if I hadn’t gone through all these trials and tribulations in life, I would be of no help. I would have no insight, no experience, strength or hope. Today I can say I’m grateful that I went through the battle of self-harm, because now that I’m on the other side, I pray all I can do is help others fighting the same battle.

Today, I can sit down and express my feelings whereas in the past, the only feelings I had were the physical feelings of pain. It took a very long time for me to be able to say all this, but now I think it’s my time to give back. I went through it, I’ve been there, I’ve done that, and now I can help.

The hardest thing I’ve had to learn how to do is to sit down and feel my feelings. I wrote yesterday in a blog post that Morrie from a book called Tuesdays With Morrie about detaching from our feelings, and I had a long conversation with Margaret about detaching from our feelings. Not only was in nice to connect with someone who’s read Tuesdays With Morrie, but to also connect on an insightful level.

We talked about the process of feeling our feelings, and then just letting them go. It’s a lot easier said than done, but once practiced it becomes a lot easier. I had a lot of time to practice being locked up for eleven months and I’ve found that fully relying on God has been the best medicine to heal myself, for refraining from any addiction is NOT based on willpower, but God-power. Again, this is indeed easier said than done; however, once practiced it becomes a lot easier.

This blog post was very difficult for me to write because I haven’t looked at where I’ve come from to what I am in quite a while. It was hard for me to express and open up to everything. However, my only prayer is to be that I can help someone else that’s been through what I have. Well, I hope this helps, and if it does it’s all worth the while.

It’s your move to make.

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