Monthly Archives: April 2012

Just Say No?

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Published
February 03, 2012
by Jon Hamilton

Many addicts inherit a brain that has trouble just saying no to drugs.

A study in Science finds that cocaine addicts have abnormalities in areas of the brain involved in self-control. And these abnormalities appear to predate any drug abuse.

The study, done by a team at the University of Cambridge in the U.K., looked at 50 pairs of siblings. One member of each pair was a cocaine addict. The other had no history of drug abuse.

But brain scans showed that both siblings had brains unlike those of typical people, says Karen Ersche, the study’s lead author.

“The fibers that connect the different parts of the brain were less efficient in both,” she says.

These fibers connect areas involved in emotion with areas that tell us when to stop doing something, Ersche says. When the fibers aren’t working efficiently, she says, it takes longer for a “stop” message to get through.

And sure enough, another experiment done by Ersche’s team showed that both siblings took longer than a typical person to respond to a signal telling them to stop performing a task. In other words, they had less self-control.

That’s what you’d expect to find in addicts, Ersche says.

“We know that in people who are addicted to drugs like cocaine, that self-control is completely impaired,” she says. “These people use drugs and lose control on how much they use. They put everything at risk, even their lives.”

But the fact that siblings without drug problems also had impaired self-control offers strong evidence that these brain abnormalities are inherited, Ersche says.

And she says the finding also raises a big question about the siblings who aren’t addicts: “How do they manage with an abnormal brain without taking drugs?”

Ersche hopes to conduct another study of the sibling pairs that will answer that question.

In the meantime, the findings about self-control have implications that go far beyond drug addiction, says Nora Volkow, director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse.

“Self-control and the ability to regulate your emotions really is an indispensable aspect of the function of the brain that allows us to succeed,” she says.

That’s because the part of the brain that decides whether to take a drug is also the part that helps us decide whether to speed through a yellow light or drop out of school, she says.

And this brain circuit seems to be involved in a lot of common disorders, she says.

“One of the ones that attracts the most attention is ADHD [attention deficit hyperactivity disorder], where kids are unable to control their response to stimuli that distract them,” Volkow says.

Impulse control is also central to behaviors like compulsive gambling and compulsive eating, she says.

The new study shows it’s possible to identify people who have inherited a susceptibility to these sorts of problems, Volkow says. And it should help researchers figure out how to help susceptible people strengthen their self-control, she says.

Happily Ever After

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I know I said I was going to write about the grandest “mask of sanity” I’ve ever encountered.. And while I don’t want to let my 5 readers down, I am still working on it. I am writing a book. This is such a pivotal chapter in my book that 4 pages down I am nowhere near an excerpt to publish on my blog that would make sense to anyone but myself.

On a separate note.. What the fuck is up with romantic comedies these days? My favorite thing about chick flicks is the unrealistic fantasy aspect that seems to be the center of most of their plots; now it seems they are taking the fantasy out and making them more true to life.. If I wanted realistic, I’d watch marathons of Bridzilla’s…I know that makes no fucking sense, but I just got back from seeing “5 Year Engagement” with my mom. I had never been so depressed at the” happy ending”as I was with this one.. why? Because I want the fantasy.. they’re taking movies such as The Wedding Planner, exchanging fantasy on a stick Matthew McConaughey for a more realistic love interest like Jason Segel; they’re exchanging, the extremely far-fetched plot of the one-dimensional bride demanding her fiance marry her wedding planner, to a more realistic plot surrounding a saner, seeming couple, going through life’s unexpected changes as they plan a wedding ..Nope, no Mr. Big flying half-way across the world to the most romantic city on Earth to take Carry back home.. Nope, no Tom Cruise saying “You complete me”, No Bradley Cooper jumping over taxi’s and catching her at the airport to profess his undying love before she gets on a plane (I haven’t seen that in a movie, just the movie in my head) Nope, in 5 Year Engagement, she ultimately says “I Do” to the funny, slightly out of shape man who she was happy with from the opening credits.. Don’t get me wrong the movie was well written and enjoyable, but part of of me likes seeing the romantic comedy so out unrealistic it could never come true. Like, I know that a hot doctor is not going to risk his life by throwing his hot body on top of mine because I got my “Gucci” heel stuck in a steam-grate in the middle of a busy street, and poof, we live happily ever after.. I know I may be sooner struck by lightning .. but I’d still like to think of it as a fucking possibility..

Antics of Chantix

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I started this medication called Chantix today to try and quit smoking. It’s making me feel kind of goofy. I have been writing off and on all day and can’t get a decent thought together. I read just now that one of the side effects is loss of concentration. What were we talking about again. Oh, yeah did I mention I’m a hypochondriac ?

Anyone used Chantix before? Thoughts ?

Mask of Sanity

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I’m sure all of us have been tricked or duped by someone in our lives who wore a mask of sanity. Maybe this person wanted to gain something you had. Your affections, your confidence, your trust, simply to use those items gained, only to use them against you. Some may have more sinister reasons than others. I think to a certain extent we all do this. Take for instance all the “first dates”. Of course on a first date you’re not going to unzip your pants after the meal (well some of you might)… Maybe I should have said top button… You’re not going to say you find it comforting to pull fistfuls of your hair out when no one’s watching cuz that would really be laying it on too thick. There is nothing wrong with a sane amount of mystery and appropriateness in situations where first impressions make or break you.

I’m more talking about a con artist type of person ..I’ll give you a for instance. I believe I have mentioned before that I am obsessed with real life murder mysteries. I just finished watching a doozie on 48 Hours; the episode was called “A Knock on the Door”.  The story began 30 years ago in Olathe, Kansas; A love triangle among extremely conservative Nazarene Christian’s. The wife, Melinda Harmon said it was a home invasion involving a couple of black dudes (how cliché.)  She told police at the time that two strangers beat her husband, David Harmon, beyond recognition after breaking in around 2am. She claims they wanted her husband’s bank keys since he worked at a bank. During the scuffle she claimed she was knocked out for over an hour and once she came to she ran to the neighbors to call 911. The next call she had her neighbor make was to her husband’s best friend, Mark Mangelsdorf.  In all actuality he was there before police arrived since he was really the one who beat his best friend to death as he lay sleeping in his bed. Apparently Melinda and Mark were having an emotional love affair and they were so conservative in their religious beliefs that murder seemed like a far better choice than divorce.

This poor David Harmon obviously didn’t see this coming, otherwise he would’ve been sleeping with one eye open and his glock under his pillow. Mark, his best friend and Melinda, his wife were wearing such an amazing mask of sanity that Harmon was wiped off the face of the Earth before he could even question whether they were having an affair.

25 years later, they are finally paying the consequences for the masquerade game they played for so many years. The gig is up and even though they went on, albeit separate from one another, to lead quite successful lives, justice eventually caught up with each of them and pulled them out of their respective million dollar homes and from the arms of their “perfect family”.

Obviously, none of us will have a story as good as David’s.. or as bad for that matter since we are able to tell it. I would like to hear from my readers. Please tell me about the best mask that someone has used on you.. I will share mine tomorrow.

Russell Brand Speaks Out for Addicts

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I’ve never been a big Russell Brand fan but am seeing him in a whole new light.

He recently appeared before a parliamentary committee speaking about his own journey through drug addiction stating that where other addicts are concerned society should not “discard people, write them off on methadone and leave them on the sidelines”. He said “love and compassion” and abstinence-based recovery are the key to weaning addicts off drugs.

During a 30-minute speech Brand shared his personal beliefs with the Home Affairs select committee saying drugs should be decriminalized, with addiction treated as a potentially fatal illness instead.

He said: “I’m not a legal expert. I’m saying that, to a drug addict, the legal aspect is irrelevant. If you need to get drugs, you will.

“The criminal and legal status, I think, sends the wrong message. Being arrested isn’t a lesson, it’s just an administrative blip.”

The Get Him to the Greek star spoke about his addiction to heroin which landed him in the slammer a dozen times, was giving evidence to MPs as they reviewed their current laws on citizens possessing controlled substances.

Brand did not want the committee to mistake his point of view by allowing “a free-for-all where everyone goes around taking drugs”. Instead, he said addiction should be treated as an illness and society should recognize it as such. Brand says with proper rehabilitation and therapy addicts can become productive members of society

I couldn’t agree more. Even though his reasons for speaking to the committee were for the changing of current drug laws in the UK and not the US .. I do hope at minimum people will adopt his point of view worldwide in regards to how addicts are perceived socially.

I have a new respect for Brand. Anytime a celebrity puts their name on the line for a controversial, yet much needed cause I applaud them. He is using his celebrity platform to give a voice to allow more awareness about addiction.

When the MPs suggested that as a celebrity he could be a role model for young people, Brand responded: “Who cares about bloody celebrities? Their role is insignificant.” He said he wasn’t trying to get a message across to young people but to people with addiction and wanted to ensure that the response to them was based on “truth and authenticity”.

I hate how most people view addicts as morally flawed individuals and not people that are suffering from a disease. More voices like Brands need to he heard to ultimately start erasing the stigma attached to addiction.

Thank you Mr. Brand. In return, I will try and check out your next shitty movie.

She’s Leaving Home..

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It was a breezy summer evening in Burbank in 2004. Even though it was well after dark there was an orangish glow that permeated the night’s sky. I stood at the doorway of my room admiring the paintings and knick knacks that Olive had recently helped decorate my room with. I loved my room; I had a super high canopy bed, freshly painted purple walls and newly refinished hardwood floors I had done all by myself. Olive had helped with the finishing touches of picture placements and decorative knacks. No matter what kind of day I was having I could put on Celine Dion or Luther Vandross hop onto my bed, grab my diary, vent any frustrations about life and turn off the light to a restful night’s sleep. It’s funny the things one takes for granted.  How was I to know that that would be the last night I would spend in my room?

After changing into my nightgown, I put on Celine Dion opened my diary to vent about “Jason” my boyfriend, who the night before had made a scene at my friend Crystal’s when he woke up the neighborhood zooming over on his motorcycle to bust his way in to try and get to my purse to gain access to my pills. I could tell he was high on coke, even though he never took his helmet off, I didn’t need to see his eyes to know he was in an altered state. After 10 minutes of calling me derogatory names like cunt, fiend, junkie, whore (pot calling kettle black), I still gave him half of my pills (at least 10). I guess he wanted them all. Crystal had heard enough and literally physically removed him from my face“get the fuck out of here. Don’t you ever talk to my friend that way.” He saw that she was serious and turned the tables trying to “warn” her about what a “con artist” I was (classic!)   “She owes me these pills, Crystal; this is not your business.  “Vanessa is my business, and you will not stand in my house and disrespect her” At one point he even yanked at my foot, pulling me off the bed. Wow, I had never seen him this ugly before. It scared me.  His acting physical toward me sent Crystal into a tailspin and at this point had him by the arm and ushered him out. After he left, I was glad. I’m sure if Crystal had not been there I would’ve ended up giving him everything and would’ve endured a 3 hour rant. I was glad her strength overcame my weakness and she was able to handle a situation for me that I had already spent four years living. 2 of those playing this drug dance. Crystal and I talked the whole night about it. After many words of encouragement, she convinced me I was better than this. It’s hard seeing the mess you are in until a caring friend holds up a mirror. sadly, this was becoming my normal and she pointed out all the ways it had broken me down. She was right. I decided that the next day I was going to send him an email voicing my concerns and breaking things off once and for all. In my diary, that night, I wrote a sample letter, wanting to give it a night to sleep on before sending him an email. I had already become numb to this drama in so many ways that I don’t remember feeling sad… I was almost relieved.

I closed my Diary, turned Celine off and attempted to go to sleep. I tossed and turned. I would be lying to say that my relationship and the end coming near were not wearing on me, but it wasn’t what was keeping me awake. Was there a part of me that knew I would be in the streets for the next 2.5 years chasing my addictions?  How could I know that that was the last night I would spend in my quiet sanctuary before taking off into the cold and unforgiving streets of Methamphetamine? I laid awake looking at the full moon. Maybe that’s why I am so restless, I thought. Around 3am, still awake, Crystal called my cell, I answered the first ring. “Hey, Fred (nickname), I’m in front of your house. I’ve got some “la la” and John from down the street with me? Let’s go for a drive”.  I was awake already, why not? We had binged the weekend before. It’s just one night, right? I grabbed my purse and a change of clothes and quietly crept out of my childhood home..  and into a world that would take me further away from the innocence and carefree existence I enjoyed in that home each day that I was gone… I would never know home like that again.

To be continued.

Will continue this chapter tomorrow..

 

Playing the Part

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Today, I got to thinking about the different roles we play in life (Mother, girlfriend, boss, mentor, student, male, female). I was once friends with this girl who got married after finding out she was pregnant to a young man from Seattle who comes from a pretty prominent family. It wasn’t until the honeymoon that her new husband let all of his demons out of the cage and began beating her to an inch of her life on a daily basis. She did not have very stable roots growing up and did not have a strong foundation to fall back on. She lost the first baby due to a severe beating she endured during the 6th month of pregnancy. She got pregnant again within the month of losing the first baby. Meanwhile, she was trapped in this wealthy, private, socially prominent family as they all sheltered her abuse to the outside world. After she had the baby, and after he abused them both she hopped on a train to her mother’s in Oregon. Of course, the custody battle quickly ensued. This family paid off judges and tortured this poor girl because her ex husband’s mother wanted the baby. The rich grandma won and she was left childless and defeated. It has been 6 years since she’s seen her child. While I have my own feelings about that I am reserving judgement to understand what it must be like to go from the role of battered housewife to single mother to alone.. How does one do that?. If you met her today you would never guess she had any children or once had a role to vastly different from the one she plays today – which is Vegas party girl,, making a dime any way she can. From what I gathered, she is not attempting t0 get her child back but does use speed as a means to keep her awake so she doesn’t have to be tortured by her dreams. As I was driving I was picturing a story she told me of her daily routine she had as a mother. Waking up before the baby to make his meals for the day so she could go to work and take him on the bus with her to childcare. I’m sure at the time that she played this role, she might have felt her own frustrations, yet when she tells it today she recalls this role with a smile on her face and a tear in her eye..

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What about the role of switching genders? My sociopathic, porn star, prostitute, transgender friend “Preston” recently got DD implants. When we were first friends he only dressed female to entertain Johns. As soon as the trick would leave he would drop his water boobs on the living room floor, take off his skirt and go back to being the role his mother so desperately wanted him to be; a boy. Preston is from the bible belt the south and has a mother that has always wanted him to fulfill a traditional role of son, husband, father, 9-5er.. As much as she voices how much she just wants him to be happy, deep down she wants the little boy she gave birth to to become all the things she dreamed he would be as an adult. Granted, she should’ve known something when he would sneak to her closet and try on her pretty dresses and hats as a tyke. She still voices to me how she thinks Preston is really straight and going through a phase and what a great husband she hopes he will make to create the grandchildren she desperately wants. For years, he has played the part, never showing mom his female persona and telling her from afar he is happy in a role he hates playing. I suppose he did enough soul searching to realize that his/her happiness is more important than faking the role he was born into. I wonder though if she is going through a certain mourning process as she departs from male and joins the rest of us miserable females.. I suppose that may be just me that is mourning Preston and not her.. I will miss him.. His female self is a bit caddy.. hopefully the adjustment process will take him out of being a junior high school girl.. anyway.. Props to her for chosing happiness.

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I have had quite a few costume changes myself, yet nothing as drastic. I will say going from the baby of the family, to straight A student, to girlfriend, to ex-girlfriend, to drug addict, to prostitute, to 9-5er, to Aunty has essentially left me “role-less”.. I am still trying to pick the right role in this game of life and mourning all the others that make one cringe.

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Has anyone ever had a major role change in life? Has it made you happier/sadder? Was it an accident or did you choose this role? Looking forward to good stories.

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Mementos from the Past

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I know we are all a product of our past and choices we’ve made. I, for one have to deal with the fact that at 30 I have wasted big chunks of time on exchanging building a productive future to drug abuse and at times running from my past. There are times though when I find myself having a death grip on certain items from my past. Just the simplest act of going through my wardrobe and deciding which clothes to give away to the Goodwill .. There are items I simply can’t part with.. Why? One such item I haven’t been able to let go of the last 5 times I’ve triffled through my wardrobe  is a shirt dress I bought in New York in 2005 that I bought when I weighed 80 pounds.. It’s very last season and will never fit me again.. (hopefully) It even has a slightly visible yellow stain towards the collar.. yet I can’t let it go for the memories that are attached to it are memories I suppose I can’t and don’t want to get rid of.

In 2005 I was almost at my rock bottom, I was strung out on speed and pills.. I was living with a sociopathic, porn star,  cross dressing prostitute who persuaded me (to put it nicely) into the world of prostitution. We took a trip to New York and Boston together for 3 weeks during the summer of 2005.. There isn’t one bad memory I have from that trip, even though this person, today, I would classify as one step away from the devil for he has done things like rat on me to the police for his drugs, or stolen money and conned me so many times..I can’t let go of the connection we shared. Even though I know now that he has no capacity to love anyone or treat anyone, much less a best friend, like anything less than a possession or  pon in his game of life.. I struggle to erase all of the memories.. For now, I will keep the happy ones, not forget the bad, and keep the stained dress.. Maybe next year I will be able to throw it away.

I guess for now I will start with something more simple like erasing my DVR recordings.

Does anyone have someone from their past where even though the outcome is all bad it is hard to part with mementos from it?

Flo & Kay

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Hearing about Dick Clark’s passing made me think immediately of his biggest fans- Flo and Kay, two identical, savant, twin sisters. The sisters were featured on a documentary in 2009 on TLC showing how much they worshiped Dick Clark; he was their God. They even went into a depression after the show 100,000 Pyramid was canceled because they never missed a day of that show (much like Judge Wopner for Rainman) I can only imagine they will be facing an even greater challenge with his passing. It’s always sad when an American Legend dies.. but all I can see is the twins in front of their TV hearing the news I just heard and falling to pieces. May Flo and Kay heal from his passing and possibly find another icon to idolize. 

 

The Good Girl

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It was Easter Sunday. My mom had an idea. “Why don’t we go to Hallmark and get your sister some cards and gifts.” We hadn’t heard from my sister “Sloan” in weeks. For all we knew we could be delivering these gifts to a headstone.. I’m sure the thought ran through all of our minds as my mom, brother and I loaded into the family van to take a family field trip minus one.

We got to the  parking lot at Hallmark. I remember the sun was so pure and brilliant as it shown down on the reborn spring flowers. It was the kind of day in LA that lets you know why the real estate was obscenely high for days like this are priceless. So why weren’t we happy or enjoying Easter Morning?

This was the 3rd Easter we spent minus one family member after Sloan’s addiction to speed had ravaged her body, mind and spirit. We spent 3 years on egg shells on pins and needles fearing but expecting a middle of the night call asking us to identify a body or a knock at the door from a Burbank cop asking if we knew where our family member was. It was the 3rd year that on a nightly basis my desperate mom and I would cruise the streets looking for her car, only to pull into our driveway at home with tears drowning us out of the vehicle. We never knew where she was. Anytime she did come home she’d validate or surpass our deepest fears.  The ghost of Sloan would enter the house always 10 pounds thinner than the last time, more hollow in spirit and presence, more depleted in looks and vibrancy. Where did she go? When or if will she ever come home?

Before she got abducted by her drug of choice she was the good girl, the best really. I was always kind of jealous at how much my mom would brag about her daughter.  Her daughter with the genius IQ, the girl so beautiful that every modeling agency in LA clambered to sign her. Her daughter, the most popular girl in school, which was a hard feat for a bi-racial girl in Burbank of all places. Her daughter, ASB president, yearbook president, “the girl that will cure the AIDS virus one day. Her daughter, my sister destroyed to pieces by a drug called methamphetamine.

I remember feeling hopeful when we entered the Hallmark store. Maybe if we say the right thing or maybe if she likes the gifts we give her she will choose us, not it. I walked to the sister/well wishes/get well aisle I looked through every card three times. We had to get this right. This had to wake her up. I found the card. A picture of sister’s in black and white holding hands, looking adoringly into each other’s eyes as they skipped through the park.

We took the cards back to the car so we could write our heartfelt message; the message that would let the light shine in. I wanted to say the perfect thing. I told her how much I loved her and how much I would be there for her if she would just come back home with us and get sober. I knew this would work this time.  I pictured her opening the cards and gifts, having a moment of epiphany, smiling, apologizing, then taking my hand and letting go off the death grip her addiction had on her. Did she know how much she’s missed?

I walked to the door with a smile on my face. Maybe that sun was shining on us that day too.  I suppose I really got my hopes up too high. My wishes that Easter Sunday did not come true. After we banged on the door for, it seemed like a lifetime, to the house she inhabited that week, my sister with a blanket draped over her shoulders answered the door. She’s alive. She seemed irritated and violated. Why didn’t you guys call first? She still hadn’t read my card yet, it wasn’t too late for a happy ending. We followed her back to this room… she fell onto it and started snoring before we could close the door. My mom kept gently budging her, she patted her leg, the way you pat a baby’s back that is crying or fussy. Sweety, we have some things to give you. She opened one eye and managed to sit erect on the bed. God, she looked worse than I’d ever seen her. Is this what they call rock bottom? She read each card and politely smiled at each one as if she was opening an ugly sweater on Christmas morning. Next was mine. She neatly opened the yellow envelope with balloon and hearts drawn I’d drawn on it. I was 14 after all. I watched her eyes as they tracked the words I had written. When she closed the card, She gave me a heartless shoulder hug and fell back into a deep sleep. We left to spend another Easter minus 1.  What else was there to do?