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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Contest consists of two divisions – performance of prepared music and sight reading. Sight reading is my strong point and I love it. What happens is you get a piece of music that has never been seen by the orchestra before and we have seven minutes to go over it, shadow bow, look at key and time signatures and then play it. If you make any noise while going over the music, aside from asking the conductor questions, you are disqualified. I’m pretty nervous about that one; we have one rowdy bunch of orchestra kids in my class! The conductor can sing the different parts but there is absolutely no playing on the instruments until we play the entire piece. It’s exhilarating!

I’ve also been job hunting – it’s offically been approved by my Probation Officer. After a few days of getting applications and not turning them in, I think I’ve found the ideal job for me. I’ve done this job before and I love it. I want to teach music again. When I started high school, I was still in contact with my middle school orchestera director, and I’d have her refer incoming students to me for private lessons. I had about two or three clients I worked with once a week each and it was amazing. Being on house arrest, I would most likely have to have my students come to the hosue, and I’d also have to get back in touch with my middle school director, which I’m actually looking pretty forward to.

My old middle school director (Ms. C. I’ll call her) always rooted for me from day one. When I started playing, she got me passionate for the music along with my private music tutor. I have a lot of fond memories with my middle school orchestra, as well as not so great. I started in the beginner’s orchestra in sixth grade and by the end of the semester, I was moved to Intermediate – a first for the school to have a beginner move to a higher level in the middle of the year. 7th and 8th grade, I was first chair in the top orchestra as well as first chair regions in the 2004-2005 school year. I went to several camps and improved and improved.

Around seventh grade was when I started getting bad into drugs. I’d do them at school and then go to orchestra class. Ms. C has seen me so messed up out of my mind, but she’s always been there for me. I think I have an ammends to make. I would go to class messed up and have to leave to the nurses office, where my mom would then proceed to drive me to the ER to see if there was anything they could do. I’m so blessed and happy to say that I’ve cleaned up my act as well as my drug addiction.

Speaking of my mom, we had our visit and it was great. She left about two weeks ago and I was pretty sad to see her go, but I’ll most likely be going up there this summer and taking distance leaning courses through Texas Tech, to get some of my missing credits. Mom and I got to bond a lot and it was a lot of fun. We laughed, we played around, we just had a really good time. It was so nice. I’m beginning to think that with sobriety do healthy relationships really come.

All that aside, life has honestly been pretty up and down. My friend continues to tell me that I’m blowing her off, when really… My sobriety is more important than hanging out with friends. It’s irritating because I’d love to tell her that, but I don’t think that she would understand. She doesn’t drink or drug, but she’s also not in the program. She lives in the same town as my probation officer’s office, so everytime I go she asks if we can hang out. And everytime, I have to tell her that I go to women’s meeting with my sponsor and go to dinner afterwards. Which was amazing, by the way. Such a strong group of women!

I don’t know how all that will be resolved, but it’s in God’s hands and for now, I’m not going to worry about it.

I wrote this during my study hall period, and the bell is about to ring for my next class which happens to be English. My favorite! We’re still working on our research paper as well as reading Of Mice and Men. I read that book once in 8th grade and loved it. It’s really nice to read it again. Although I am on a roll and culd probably write for hours, class comes first and now I must depart. Farewell and have a BLESSED day.

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The boy I was so anxious, nervous, and scared to see did end up coming back to school yesterday. I had a LOT of feelings, and it’s amazing how feelings can change from bad to good. When I first saw him, I walked right past him. He was in an administrator’s office and didn’t see me. I saw him again around lunch and I called him over, which was exactly what I said I would not do. I talked to him and asked him how he was doing and he gave me a HUGE hug. Afterwards, I felt like I had quite literally relapsed. I was confused as to why I felt that way – I felt a sense of loss.

What we had can never be again merely because I don’t want to be that same person again, and that’s my choice. Now I face the consequence like there are to every choice that every person makes. We’ve had a lot of memories and that will never change. But what can change is how I handle myself and how handle being around him. I hung out with him a little today and discovered he was still smoking marijuana. I realized that some things change, and some things don’t. After that realization, I thought, “Well, maybe this relationship isn’t meant to end if he’s back in my life.” And today, I mean relationship as friendship, not a physical, sexual relationship. Then I had the master idea to invite him to an AA meeting. We connected on a level today where we both really related to coming back to school after being gone for a while and no one really wants to be around him or me because of our past. That kind of hit me hard.

Then I wondered about how I’ve been doing as far as friends. I still have some old friends I still talk to and hang around even though they’ve seen me use. Even though they never used with me, they can still see a change in me. That’s comforting. Then I wondered how on Earth can I have all these awesome friends — Where did I meet all of these people that are with me today?!?! The answer was recovery. Not necessarily all my friends are from recovery, but most of the ones that still stick around are. That’s when I thought, “He was in the EXACT same position as me a week ago. What can I do to help him?” And that was when I realized I could share my recovery and knowledge with him. In AA, we talk about sharing our experience, strength and hope. Because I’ve been through so much and am now on the other side of it, I can work with others and help other people.

I have yet to actually invite him to a meeting, but after school, I told the boy that I had to talk to him and to give me a call after school. He hasn’t yet, and I don’t know if he will, but if he does, I’ll be here. All I can do is try, for you can lead the “horse” to the water, but there’s no way you can make him drink (my latest aphorism for the day).

I spent a lot of the day reminiscing about all the things he and I have been through. I remember the night he called me around 2 or 3 am, telling me he had just told his mom he was addicted to meth He was crying and I still remember his exact words, “Victoria, I need you.” Granted he might not still feel the same way about me (or I do about him), I still want to be there for him like I was before… Just without the drugs and other risky choices. Whether that’s my compassion for the human race, or me still wanting to hold onto the last little strand of our friendship, I have no idea. I do, however, think it’s for the greater good. Not just for me, but also for him. I realize today, that I can be there for people without getting extremely involved. I want to help and if he declines, I know that through God I WILL get through this, even if I do have to make it clear that we can’t speak to each other anymore.

I went to a meeting last night and got everything off my chest about him and how I felt like i had relapsed maybe not in drugs, but in old behaviours.. Now I realize that God can pull us through anything and bring us to the other side. I journalled a lot about the situation yesterday and even talked to my sponsor about it. I’ve decided to only keep our friendship at school, unless he wishes to attend an AA meeting with me. All in all, I’m here for him if he wants recovery and sobriety. The Victoria that he knew is no longer a part of me and I refuse to let that girl back in my life. I know that everything works out for the best according to God’s will and granted MY will says that I should be happy in ALL situations, I have to learn that some things don’t go the way we wish they would.

Today, that’s okay with me.

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While we had intermission, dad started asking me questions about while I was on the streets. They were short and simple questions, yet for every answer I felt as if I had to explain myself in addition to a LOT of shame, guilt, and remorse. I talked about some of my “friends” I had while I was out there. When he asked me where I slept, I told him about different people telling me where to stay. Not only was there pang of the typical shame and guilt, but frustration at not being able to explain the way -I- wanted to.

I’ve been wanting to write a book, specifically a memoir, for years now. I started writing one while I was in rehab, called Life on the Streets, but my story is so much more than that, although that really is a huge chunk of all the terrible crap I had to go through to get here where I am now. Which kind of leads me to my next subject. Friends.

In AA, they say there’s only one thing we have to change: Everything. I’ve always liked that saying. When I talked earlier about feeling alone at school because I barely knew anyone and the people I DID know, were pretty much horrible influences, I was surprised at myself. I was in girl scouts for several years when I was in elementary school and the one thing I’m constantly reminded of is this:

Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold.

– Girl Scout Song

We would all sing it, holding hands in a circle. But I think that there should be another part added onto simplified to, “make new friends, keep the GOOD old ones, and TRASH the ones that are negative influences.” How I would rearrange that into girl scout fitting song format, I have no idea. That’s my theory, though. I’ve been experiencing a LOT of anxiety actually lately, because an old friend of mine that was ALWAYS there for me, and I was ALWAYS there for him is coming back to school Monday.

He really should have been there when -I- got back, but apparently he got into a lot of trouble and was either expelled or put somewhere else. I have no idea what the story is. I am, however, feeling very scared about the entire situation. He got me into SO much trouble and was also a “drug buddy” of mine, regardless of how much we were really “here for each other.” I was expelled and put in Campus Alternative Educational Program because of him as well as getting kicked out of court ordered classes, and so on and so forth. I could definitely go on, but I’ll spare thee.

Anyway, my point is it’s going to be REALLY hard to deny him any friendship, attention, or even acknowledgement come Monday. I know if I do talk to him. even ask him how he’s doing, things won’t go well, because he’s still using and still doing the same things that I’ve moved away from. So I’m scared of being sucked right back into my old habits and behaviours. So I will most definitely be relying on God, AA, and my sponsor. I actually just talked to my sponsor and these were the gist of her words: It’s not like you can just run away from him when you see him, because y’all have a history. You can however, keep it strictly at school and make it VERY clear that you cannot hang out.” So really, maybe I’m just getting too scared for nothing, but I don’t know.

It’s the first time I’m facing wanting to hang out with someone old that actually wants to hang out as well. I’ve tried reconnecting with old GOOD influences, and most of them want nothing to do with me because of my past. Which doesn’t bother me, because that’s how life goes. People come and go… I guess it’s just that sometimes you don’t want them to go, and they don’t want you to go either. But when it’s best for the both of y’all, you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. So I’m going to put my big girl pants on and deal with this crap head on.

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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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