Tag Archives: drug abuse

Jul16

Battle Scars of Life

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As my mom was kissing me on the forehead goodnight… Yes, I am 30 and I also nursed til I was 2…I think I might’ve just had an Aha moment. I digress. I was showing her my freshly painted finger nails telling her I would do hers tomorrow.  I found an awesome color from O.P.I called “A Grape Fit”, she digressed by showing me her hand and pointing out the finger she broke spanking one of my sister’s childhood boyfriends for trying to take their relationship to the next level… Anyway, I got to thinking about battle scars of life. I have one. I got into a car accident in Preston’s escalade while high on every drug and drink God and man created. In the process of flying over that speed bump that turned out to be a street partition I bit my bottom lip HARD! Because I was so effed up I neglected to seek medical attention hence the scar.  I will forever have a nickel sized lump squarely in the middle of my lip. Every time I put on lipstick, floss my teeth or take self-portraits I think of that accident, Preston, and that crazy weekend of hedonistic drug binging . Then I thought further than that in my abstract sort of way. What if we could MRI our emotional scars? The one’s we can’t see and most of the time forget to feel. The deepest internal scar I possess today is probably not even one that I consciously think is my deepest emotional scar. Then again, I am glad they are internal because I am of the mindset that if I don’t think about it it’s not there.

On a separate or similar note speaking of not facing my problems, I am elated to reconnect with “Bridget”, My Soul Sister, even if only by email for now. Whenever I am away from her this heavy weight lays on my soul because I know we should never not talk. I am an escape artist and a difficult friend to have when I am not coping. When I am at peak performance I am the best friend anyone could have (I kinda stole that from the Hangover)

I am going to try to get back to blogging/writing daily. Looking for an actual job right now. Wish me luck!

May7

90 Days Clean

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Today marks 90 days clean and sober.. oh and 3 days without cigarettes. All I need to do is take up the lord and I’ll be totally reformed..

I’m still feeling pretty shitty from the Chantix, but since I they are helping me to quit smoking I figure the side effects are worth it.

Side effects include: sleeping all day, terrible nausea, crazy nightmares, constipation, lack of focus, lost the  urge to write.. But it beats lung cancer I guess..

I can’t be certain about the future, but I really have the strongest convictions I’ve ever had about being sober. I think it will stick this time.

I am going to start lowering my dose of Chantix tomorrow and I’m hoping I can get back to writing and being somewhat alert through the day.

Wish me luck!

May4

Dr. Drew Non-Celebrity Rehab

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:via press release:

LOS ANGELES, May 1, 2012 — VH1 and Dr. Drew has started production today on a sixth installment of “Rehab with Dr. Drew” to directly address alcohol and drug addiction among young adults, the largest group afflicted by addiction issues in the U.S.

According to the 2010 National Survey on Drug Use and Health by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration reports that an estimated 23.1 million American who were 12 or older needed treatment for drug and alcohol abuse that year, while only 2.6 million received treatment in a specialty facility. Another source, the 2009 Treatment Episode Data Set, which gathers information on persons admitted to publicly funded treatment programs, shows that the age group with the highest proportion of admissions was 25 to 29 years at 15.2 percent followed closely by the 20 to 24 years age group at 14.9 percent.

And in the sixth installment of the Celebrity Rehab franchise Dr. Drew once again takes viewers behind the closed doors of the rehabilitation process. From heartbreak to hope we follow Dr. Drew and his patients on their difficult and deeply emotional journey to sobriety. An often raw and unflinching look at the many faces of addiction, Dr. Drew shows us that rehab is not a glamorous spa vacation for celebrities as often portrayed in the media but a profound life changing process that offers hope for a better life. “Rehab with Dr. Drew,” will premiere in September 2012 with eight one-hour episodes.

“Addiction is a disease that doesn’t limit itself to celebrities but reaches across all economic, social and racial boundaries with lasting and profound effects of not only of the patients but also their families, friends and co-workers. Rehabilitation and sobriety on the other hand are an arduous lifelong journey,” said Dr. Drew.

“Many of our young adult viewers have shared with us that Dr. Drew and our multiple seasons of ‘Celebrity Rehab’ has made them more aware about substance abuse. And a large number of them have asked for his assistance with their own challenges,” said Jeff Olde, Executive Vice President, Original Programming & Production, VH1. “This season, the moment felt right to turn our focus from celebrities, to young adults who could benefit under Dr. Drew and his team’s expert professional treatment. In some ways, we felt that stripping away the celebrity layer could reach even more viewers and touch them in a different way.”

Dr. Drew is the host of the nationally syndicated late night radio show Loveline as well as a respected practicing MD, board certified in internal and addiction medicine, who is staff at Huntington Hospital and assistant clinical professor of KECK USC School of Medicine. He is the author of the New York Times best seller The Mirror Effect: How Celebrity Narcissism is Seducing America (Harper Collins) and Cracked: Putting Broken Lives Together Again (Harper-Collins.) Dr. Drew co-authored the first academic study on celebrities and narcissism that was published in the Journal of Research in Personality (Elsevier) in September 2006, and is the first systematic, empirical scholarly study of celebrity personality. Dr. Drew hosted VH1’s “Sober House” and “Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew” and can be seen on MTV’s “Teen Mom” and “16 & Pregnant.” Additionally, Dr. Drew is hosting a new prime time show on HLN called “Dr. Drew.”

Returning for their sixth seasons to assist Dr. Drew are counselor Bob Forrest and resident technician Shelly Sprague. Also returning this season is Dr. John R. Sharp, M.D. Dr. Sharp is a member of the faculty at Harvard Medical School, and the David Geffen School of Medicine, University of California, Los Angeles. His expertise is in the integrated treatment of depression and bipolar disorder, anxiety disorders, attention deficit disorder, and addiction. Dr. Sharp has been recognized as Fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and of The Academy of Psychosomatic. He maintains an active Private Practice in Boston and Los Angeles. Jennifer Gimenez will also be back as a resident technician. Jennifer was previously seen on season 5 of “Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew” and “Sober House” as the house manager.

For additional information about “Rehab with Dr. Drew” visit the official VH1 Rehab with Dr. Drew site at CelebRehab.VH1.com and on VH1 Mobile each week following the show’s on-air premiere. Viewers can also find ‘Rehab’ updates on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/vh1 and on Twitter @VH1 with the hashtag #Rehab.

“Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew” is produced by Irwin Entertainment. Executive producing for Irwin Entertainment are John Irwin, Damian Sullivan, Joel Rodgers and Rob Buchta. Dr. Drew Pinsky and Howard Lapides also serve as executive producers. Jill Holmes, Tom Huffman and Jeff Olde are executive producers for VH1.

VH1 connects viewers to the music, artists and pop culture that matter to them most with TV series, specials, live events, exclusive online content and public affairs initiatives. VH1 is available in 99 million households in the U.S. VH1 also has an array of digital channels and services including VH1Classic, VH1 Soul, VH1 Mobile, and extensive video on VH1.com. Connect with VH1 at VH1.com.

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May3

Too Good To Be True (Mask Of Sanity II)

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I met him the day after I got that fateful phone call from Crystal. Crystal and I spent that morning doing rails of meth and watching the sun rise while listening to Dashboard Confessionals “Hands Down” on repeat. I decided to go home and get that break up letter out to Jason. Now that I was high, I really could give less than a fuck about where my relationship with Jason ended up. Wow, this feeling was awesome. I felt completely invincible, numb to any pain, grandiose in thought and perception. I felt like I could take over the world… Little did I know all of those feelings morph into hate and self-loathing within a week of doing meth fulltime. I got to my house at 2pm. Crystal stayed at her place. She was entertaining a gentleman caller. Another reason why I left. For some reason, which fails my memory now, we decided to trade cars that day. I had a Toyota Four-Runner, she had a Chevy Silverado.. After I finished typing the letter, but before sending it, my sister Sloan called. Did she have this sixth sense that I was high? She wanted to know if I could take her to her boyfriend Randy’s storage place to pick up some of her things. She then proceeded to tell me that Randy had been taken into custody that day to start his 10 year prison sentence for manufacturing and sales of Methamphetamine. We knew this day had been coming for quite some time. I never gave it more than a fleeting thought since her world did not mix with mine. I found her world to be ridiculous; meth heads, doing what they could to get high. None of her friends had any teeth or appropriate body hygiene. I let go of caring so long before that nothing was different about Randy going away. But this was my sister whom no matter what I’ve always adored and of course I was going to go help her.

Randy had a condo in Sun Valley (the worse enclave of the valley). Sun Valley is not very big but it houses all the popular gangs from The Valley. Even though parts of Sun Valley are a stone’s throw from Burbank’s outskirts, it might as well be a separate country. It’s common in Sun Valley to see a helpless animal being thrown out of a slow moving van, like a piece of trash. That would get you thrown in Jail in Burbank. Sun Valley, the quintessential Barrio. You will never hear two little girls planning their futures dreaming of the day they have matching houses, husbands and kids in Sun Valley. No one ever strives to move to Sun Valley; they only strive to one day get away.

I logged off my computer without sending the email. Fuck Jason, I thought. I took the 5 fwy north 5 exits to get to Randy’s condo. I locked my door as soon as I hit the fwy exit. It took me quite a while to find safe parking; parking within running distance to wherever one planned on going. I got to the safety gate of Randy’s condo and knocked politely. I found it quite odd that on the only window to the outside world were three not conspicuously placed security cameras. They were placed to the window with white painter’s tape. Finally my sister opened the door. The smoke that billowed out the front door did not smell like cigarettes. She quickly let me in and slammed the door shut and locked it. She explained how the HOA was trying to evict them for having too much traffic .. I couldn’t imagine why.

Once inside, I wondered what the heck they needed security camera’s for as there was really nothing of value inside. Yes, there was plenty of stuff; there was hardly a place to sit as there were plenty of broken stereos and cameras and various knick knacks. I peered into the kitchen and wondered how anyone ever cooked a meal in this place as the kitchen looked more like a storage room. The kitchen had a minor difference from the “living room”; The kitchen had a bee infestation coming from the vents over the stove. Honey dripped freely from every opening in the kitchen. What was this place? I guess this is what they call a tweak den.

There were about 5 greasy looking fellows sitting in a circle with my sister as I entered the living room. They were passing around the pipe. One of those guys kindly gave up his seat for me; a torn couch cushion on top of a termite infested desk. As I crouched over it like a public bathroom toilet, I looked up immediately in front of me and noticed 3 monitors stacked one on top of the other monitoring the front door. That’s quite fancy, I thought. Now that I was technically in the circle, I asked my sister if I could take a hit. We had never smoked together, but she knew I had been partying weekends with Crystal. She raised her voice slightly in a harsh tone not to shoot down my request but to tell me, I was breaking the rotation and I needed to wait my turn. That was my very first lesson on how to be a proper tweaker. I took a mental note. I felt embarrassed that I had asked too soon. I wasn’t trying to take someone’s turn away from them, it was an honest mistake. I knew this was her world and if I wanted to impress her among her people, I better follow her que and not look like I’m a sheltered little Burbank girl. I felt as though I needed to portray an air of street saaviness like her. I had so much more to learn.

After we finished smoking, and were just about ready to leave to get her things out of storage in walked “Crooked”. He was nothing like the 5 gentleman that we had just gotten high with. He had a cocksure, yet sensitive attitude. He wasn’t bad looking either. Not my type, I thought. He was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes and tan skin. Some might mistake him for gay due to his flamboyant gestures .. Well that was kind of my type. I have always dated pretty boys that could pass for gay or straight. Put them in a gay pride parade and no one would be the wiser. Put him in a rodeo as a cowboy. Well, then they’d just look really gay.. Once I got a closer look at him though I realized he was fairly weathered around the edges. Crooked was extremely charming right from the first hello. We left Crooked there to “clean house”. Apparently he was there to get rid of all the moocher’s that happened to take up residence in this godforsaken hell hole. We told him we’d be back in an hour.

As we walked to Crystal’s truck, Sloan pointed out Crooked’s vehicle. It was a fairly new looking Corvette. Certainly not like her other friends who either had no ride or a car that just as easy could be junked for $50. She then went on to tell me how that Crooked was Randy’s best friend. He worked as a foreman for a masonry company, he owned a house in Santa Clarita, a fairly nice suburb 20 minutes north of Los Angeles. She had only known him personally for 2 weeks as he had just gotten out of doing a 10 year prison sentence not long before she met him. All that she told me about him only piqued my curiosity further. My sister had been in this game for over 10 years at that point and all of her “friends” were certainly not the type you could take to a Sunday meal with the family. Crooked was.

We got back to Randy’s and the place seemed a lot quieter. I guess he did unload all of the crumb bums while we were gone. Of course, a bad boy is always appealing to a girl with daddy issues. Before Randy went to prison to start his sentence he anointed my sister and Crooked to be the caretakers of his Casa de Tweak-dome, and his business if they chose. Mainly, Randy just needed someone who would keep the riff raff out and keep the mortgage paid on his place up so that he’d have something to call home when he got out. Sloan and Crooked agreed.

Once inside the palace of tweak-dome Sloan went immediately to her computer. My sister and I are quite opposite in regards to personality and social attributes. Sloan’s mind is more scientific and she’d much rather spend her time fixing or making something. I, myself have always been too dependent on the nature’s of humanity and would much rather have deep conversation with an interesting person. Crooked was the same way. Or, he showed himself to be the same as me. The first day I was there we talked about everything.. I mean everything.. From family to religious to political values, to our failed relationships, to street ethics, to cooking to the art of prostitution.. Nothing was exempt. It was interesting how much of the same views we shared. I would find out later that it was all a con game, but for now I was learning the hard lessons, remember? It had been a long time, if ever, that I had a conversation like that much less with someone who shared identical views on the world. Too good to be true?

Before I knew it it was midnight. We had yet to have a lull in conversation. I hadn’t even heard from Crystal all day. I wondered how things were going with the guy she was with. I decided I better get her truck back to her so we could exchange vehicles. Crooked, offered to drive us since it was getting late. He seemed like such a protective and loyal friend. We let him drive.

The police immediately took notice of Crystal’s truck when it exited Burbank Blvd. After all it was midnight in Burbank and even though Burbank is a suburb next-door to LA, it might as well be a small Midwestern town where the streets roll up soon after night falls. Before we could get to the first intersection there were two cops following us. They let us sweaty palm it a mile before they flipped the lights on. As Crooked pulled over he said “ok girls, if you have anything on you now is the time to hand it over.” We didn’t, but the offer was not lost with me. This guy hardly knows us, is on parole, and if he violates one more time he’s back in for 25-life. Too good to be true?

It turned out Crystal’s gentleman caller was no gentleman at all and was actually a 17 year old boy with a very over protective father who had called the police department reporting his child missing, yet suspected to be with Crystal. The Burbank cops are great that way. They will put an APB out on a vehicle of a woman who might be housing a boy under 18 in their rooms. In LA that would NEVER happen. It was a scary experience. My first non-traffic violation encounter with the police. I remember crying on the sidewalk as they did a thorough search of her truck and interrogated us about Crystal and this kid she was screwing. I didn’t know then this was a preview of things to come. I was trying to learn fast.

After the police let us go, we practically flew out of Burbank back to good old Sun Valley, where cops don’t look at you cross ways for being on the streets after midnight. I had already had a take your child to work day with my sister.. You’d think I’d want to politely say my goodbyes and go back to my quaint, easy, crime free existence in Burbank. As I sat on the make shift couch I kept picturing myself bolting for the door, but something about that environment was sucking me in like a vacuum. Like a magnet pushing me further away from my current existence. Aside from almost going to jail, I was having a blast. Plus, this was the first time in our lives that my sister and I were on the same level. I felt like we were sisters again. Man, I had missed her so much.

Also, I had just met a really cool friend. By days end, Crooked had showed that he was a loyal friend, especially to those in need. Above all, he was willing to take a drug rap, which meant his going back to prison for life. He showed himself to be a successful person in regard to his career and his owning his own home. He showed himself to be a great communicator, he showed himself to really take a passionate interest in my life. At the time, I can’t say I had romantic feelings for him, but I was certainly intrigued by this enigma within the tweaker circle. So, I ended up staying, and staying and staying until it was far too late.

My curiosity and his mask of Sanity would prove a dangerous combination. By summer’s end, He would take off that mask and become the most toxic entity to infiltrate into my life and my family’s life. He would turn my sister and me from best friends to arch enemies. He would get his hands on a lot of my family’s money. He would lie and cheat and mislead with every attempt of destroying me. He tried. He didn’t. I learned from Crooked. Above all, he has taught me to never take anyone at face value. I will be writing more in depth on this character as my chapters unfold. I haven’t even touched the surface.

Apr29

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.

Apr24

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..

 

Apr23

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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Apr19

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?

Apr18

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?  

Apr16

In a Nutshell

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I just joined this social network called “OneRecovery”. It’s like Facebook for addicts. I needed to post a synopsis of my story. I thought I’d share with all of my 3 readers what I posted.. hehehe

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I was born and raised in Los Angeles. My dad was a star on a hit TV show from the 70’s/80’s. My mom was an exotic dancer (reformed from Catholic School I guess). I was raised by a single mom.. As is everyone else is LA I was a child actress. I looked just like Shirley Temple when I was little and worked a lot landing a couple of movies and commercials. I was always in the gifted program in school, but I had debilitating social anxieties. I only attended 2 days of high school before transferring to a very very small private school to avoid the crowds and debauchery of peer groups.

The funny thing about my story and what still really surprises me is that I have lived on both sides of the addiction fence. My sister got addicted to speed when I was 12. The pain I encountered is indescribable. My sister is 7 years my senior, yet I always looked up to her. She was my idol, my star. I would cry myself to sleep most nights when she’d get lost in the frenzy of her addiction and not come home for weeks on end. Once asleep, my nightmares grew increasingly strong; she’d be dead in her car on the side of the road. I would beg her to stop. I never understood how she could torment my family the way she did. Didn’t she have a choice in the matter? Could she see how this was killing my mom, my brother, me?

I finally understood at the age of 22, once I hopped the fence and joined my sister. Before then, I was the poster child of sobriety. I was always the designated driver. Deathly afraid of alcohol and drugs. I didn’t take a drink until I was almost 18. It felt kind of nice. I liked the warmth I felt and the way my inhibitions became erased. I never really cared for booze tho. I was always just a social drinker. Then, I found pain killers at the age of 20. Where had these been my whole life? First pill, I fell in love. Those too started out benignly. Only on Sundays with girlfriends. Then I started getting migraines and was diagnosed with scoliosis.. and doctor’s were dolling me out large, large prescriptions for anything I wanted. I had an excuse. I started taking daily and before I knew it I was popping 20-30 vicodin a day. It didn’t help that I entered a relationship a closet addict. When I met him I was still the Sunday pill taker, occasional boozer. Slowly but surely our demons joined forces .. (I don’t blame him at all.. I’ve made ALL of my own choices).

My sister was still using. I had amputated my connection to her. I couldn’t ache anymore. I just let her go and loved her from afar. Never hopeful, always expecting the worst. The one drug I swore I would never touch was meth. It disgusted me! One night my boyfriend had some and pressured me to try. I didn’t love it.. I didn’t think about it again for 6 months until a close friend of mine was just doing it on the weekends.. I thought what the heck? This will never become fulltime. Then one day in the summer of 2004, my sister called me, she needed my help. Her boyfriend had just been taken away to prison for 10 years and she was in shambles. My sister, my idol my all needed me? I didn’t hesitate. It happened to be on one of those meth weekends. She had me meet her at the boyfrineds.. what a disgusting place. Stereo equipment and items that had been bartered to her dealer boyfriend stacked floor to ceiling. There wasn’t even a place to sit. The place wreaked of sweat and hopeless dreams. How could my sister live like this? She seemed quite content and had managed to carve out a seat for herself among the filth. Little did I know by summer’s end I too would carve out a seat and join the ranks of all hopeless tweakers who begged to enter, if only for a hit.

It was the perfect storm I suppose. I was winding down on the toxic relationship I was in. I was going to college and maintaining a 3.75 gpa, but found myself lost and wondering which direction I wanted to take in life. It was summer after all, I wasn’t going to keep up this sharade for long.. right? I don’t know if subconsciously I was trying to get closer to her.. We did become closer than ever.. but by summer’s end were arch enemies. Her boyfriend’s best friend was asked to come over and check on us and make sure we were doing OK. He ended up wooing me over. God knows why? I had only ever been with 2 guys before him and I was seriously in love with each of them. He always wanted to keep our relationship private. “Your sister will kill me” he always said. Well, the night after I was intimate with him, he was intimate with my sister. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know until I told her after the fact that he had been seeing me behind her back all summer. Instead of manning up, he lied and said I was psychotic and that we were never together; she believed him. She 86’d me from the palace of tweakville… she claims that she wanted me to get sober. Yeah, like that was gonna happen? Instead a sheltered little girl from Suburbia was left to her own devices.I had never bought speed or hung with a circle before. Just my sister and the guy who two-timed us. Boy, what an ugly world. I ended up being date raped, getting into 3 car accidents in one month, selling my ass, taking residence with a sociopathic, porn star, pimp/prostitute who stole all my money and turned me out. I was not prepared for that world I entered. Ugly is an understatement.

For 2.5 years I chased my addiction on the streets. Doing what I could to survive in LA of all places. New Years eve 2006 was when I hit my first rock bottom. I literally slept on the streets in the coldest night of the year. It probably was a god send because I took the first plane out to Las Vegas to live with my mom. I white knuckled it for 3 years in regards to the speed. Now the pills were another battle, but soon I got off those too a year after I got to Vegas… Before I got off the pills and after.. I became a solid citizen, I worked full-time, I was closer than ever with my family and my friends from childhood.. Not one slip up with speed, not a thought.

I heard a term recently that’s used in AA that I love – Don’t put yourself in slippery situations, if you don’t want to fall (or something to that affect). Well, last year, that’s exactly what I did. I was working for a company that was downsizing and they hired me on to pick up the pieces. I was a wreck. working 12 hour days, dealing with an asshole for a boss. I decided to take a vacation to see an old friend. I met him in the druggie world in LA.. but we always seemed to have this bond that went far beyond drugs and even during times of sobriety we would hang out and have good clean fun. This time was different. I got to the airport. We got to the car. He said “I have this fire speed”. I told him he was nuts I was never touching the stuff again. I went to sleep that night and tossed and turned.. “Maybe I could do it just this weekend?” “No one will know.” “I can’t even get it in Vegas if I wanted to”, I thought.. I woke up at 6am that morning. Met him in his studio (he’s a musician) “OK… Lemme do a line of that.. Just promise me you won’t let me take any home and I have to sleep everynight I’m here” .. Boy, the rational of the addict.

I came back to Vegas.. with just enough on me to get me through my work week. After the comedown. I took a sigh of relief. I’m glad that’s over. Well, it wasn’t. And, it turned out I did know someone who got high. I was laid off. I had a decent unemployment paycheck and I was off to the races.. again.. This time wasn’t as bad.. but I did manage to get arrested once with drugs on me.. I just completed my program for the courts.. I slipped back into pain killers for a few months, I did dabble in prostitution again, I did lie and cheat and steal from my family.. I made friends with people that were like vampires. They wanted to suck me dry for all my energy and my money – I let them.

I just turned 30 in January. Months before that I kept telling myself “OK – when you’re 30 enough is enough.. you have to quit”.. 30 came and went. Not a thought. It was a Thursday night, Feb 8th I had just gotten my UI money. I spent it all in one night on drugs and a poker machine that made me her bitch. I got to my car and fell apart. I couldn’t stop crying. It was my mom’s birthday the day before – All I could hear were her sobs through the phone begging me to get better. I didn’t even see her on her bday.. What was I doing?

I decided enough was enough. I drove to my mom’s.. I came through the door at 4 am.. I asked if she’d let me stay with her so I could get better. She agreed. It’s been a little over 2 months. I have been blogging and trying to connect with the reason this all started. I’m thinking of writing a book. It’s such a journey. I have learned so much about the world and people that I don’t think I would’ve learned had I stayed in college.. but what I wouldn’t give to throw the clock back and stay on the right path and go to college. My only hope is that the pain and daily struggle was not in vein. I can’t have wasted my life in la la land on a life without purpose.