This is like the crack version of the young and the restless or should I say the young and the rest of us... hey no disrespect.. I am all for sobriety at all costs. Tough love as long as its approached with love I'm all for it.
I came out of the battle field of addiction bruised and wounded. I come from broken hearts and lives. Dope was the bandaid that I hoped could make the pain go away. For me there was never enough dope. When I finally fell to my knees, battered and broken, wounded and with my heart torn from my chest I did not believe I could be put back together. It was only with kindness, compassion and the care and love of other addicts that I healed and am healing. I have cried rivers of tears and I still do.
Forgive me if I find the bickering something that would make people uncomfortable enough to want to leave this site, personally Bill if I wanted to rip your sh*t I'd send you a pm, unless there is something I am really missing the point to in this public display of bashing. Even at the recovery house we try not to embarress the girls in front of each other. If I got a beef with someone and I had one with Nichole just before wefare week when I thought she was planning to leave, I pulled her into the office and had it out with her. Conflict resolution.
he|l weren't we put down enough in our addiction? Why do it in sobriety? Please help me get this. I am all about the love heals all things psychology.
A Love song to my Drug
There are times
when i am feeling small
Can't get no place at all
and all I've gots the blues
Those times
when all things went so well
the flowers that I'd smell
All had the scent of you
And my mind
was thinking all the time
When I knew that you were mine
and it was always you
I feel old
I feel left out in the cold
I can't bear this heavy load
Can't tell which line is true
I shout
But no one helps me out
I just can't figure out
what else I am to do
Those times
when all things went so well
the flowers that I'd smell
all had the scent of you
And my mind
starts thinking all the time
And I know that you are mine
and it was always you
Always you
But now there is nothing left to do
It was always you
nothing left to do
happy new year bill,lynn,lucy,nikki,jenni,gene,michelle,freedom and everyone who comes here for advice or to give advice to others.Lord bless you all and may your new year be fulled with love ,laughter and peace.
Hugs diane
Post subject: I Wish i knew How To Deal With My Son.
Quote:
come on Bill give your head a shake before you need to say anything in return take the time to really think everything over cause to be honest i suppose i am somewhat like you and if i need to let family members go I can do it with no regrets!!!!!! Open your eyes Bill and try and look at your past few yrs. from the non addicts mind who will and does remember all....you want to be honest and put all on the table well there it is!!!
there has been some turbulence between billy and i, this last while. it stems from financial difficulties (his), and an unwillingness to put the hardships of my drug addiction to rest. i am getting the feeling that he wants me to feel indebted to him, and him alone, for the fact that i am now rid of drugs and maintaining my own.
Quote:
you never seem to remember that through everything I, ME, BILLY, NOT YOUR F'N DRUG SIGHT was the only one who helped you through all and put up with all your crap!!
this has been eating away at me for a few weeks now and i now feel the best way for me to deal with it is bring it here to the forum.
as billy, has so clearly pointed out to me..
Quote:
I know how a manipulative mind works in which you do posses
i feel, it is in his best interest then, that we resolve our difficulty here, where i know, that i will be called on my bullsh*t.
i have thought about it, how he might feel about me doing this, but i have decided, that he already is a member of the site by his own choice and that if family, is as important to him, as he claims, then he will want to clear it up in this manner, as we appear to be at odds, otherwise.
i'll inform him that he can come here and give his side of the events. i'll post my version later today when i've the time.
bill
_________________ I can embrace myself, hold my own hand, love me - but, I can't gaze into my own eyes and feel my own soul lift me up.
Bill I have a 22 year old daughter who has been holding me emotionally hostage ever since coming into recovery. Mercedes has had a very difficult time growing up with two addict parents. She is an adult now though. The only thing I can do for her is stay clean. When she found out I got 15 grand not to long ago she would torment me and drag the past up and throw it into my face and literally emotionally blackmail me into giving her money. As a few thousand started to empty from the guilt parenting 101 account I began to get angry.
Here I was studying all about co-dependancy and loss of self and I was letting this kid drag me into the past and call me a crack head and a loser and all the things I had already felt about myself and was in rehab trying to reprogram my stinking thinking. During one of my one on one sessions with my counsellor, he told me I had to quit hoping for a better past. I had to put a boundary up with Mercedes.
That was the hardest thing I ever did. The next time she called and started her mom bashing. I told her it was ending here and now. I was no longer going to live in the past with her. I could not change what I had already done. I can't change yesterday I can't change the past. I can only change me and that was what I was doing by getting and staying clean. If she wanted to live in the past she would have to do it with out me. If she was going to continue to call me only to put me down and ask for money, she was not to call me.
I also told her I knew I had done damage to her in my addiction but I was not qualified to fix it. She needed to seek outside help. (her dad still trys to drag her to narcanon) she has been to some counselling but drops out. I cried and cried after that conversation. I went back to my counsellor and asked him why I felt so bad making that boundary. He told me it was because I was still hoping for a better past.
Mercedes didn`t talk to me for about ten days.
Then my phone rang and she called just to see how I was doing. She wanted to say hi and tell me she loved me. That was a huge day. Mercedes and I still have a touchy relationship. I just have to remember to keep my boundaries and not to let my shame and guilt over my wasted money and years in addiction be the reason I make my decisions today.
In conclusion. My last assignment before I left rehab was I had to write what were my blocks to recovery. All my blocks fell in the co-dependancy department but I broke them down. I was not to focus on the problem but on the solution, if I knew what the block was, what would I do to deal with it. Mercedes was the first block I wrote about. My counsellor knew after that assignment I was ready to move on with my life and I have been. I love my daughter as I am sure you love your son. We cannot change the past. Your son can`t change you he can only change himself and you can only change you. You can`t change the past.
no, i can't change the past, but i can shape the future. but to shape the future, i can't dwell on my past.
i got a call today from nichole. the timing seemed appropriate; she wished me a happy birthday. it's strange in a way, because it was the only greeting i'd heard, yet it was exactly the one that made it a happy birthday.
she asked me how old i was and i told her i thought i was 49, but wasn't sure. quick calculation says i'm 49. i went over my threads today to see how much clean time i've got behind me now. offhand, i figured 35 - 45 days. oddly enough, i have 49 clean days behind me. that kind of makes the birthday even more significant.
i got a call today from an addict who wished another addict a happy birthday. we're both clean and that's the gift in itself. i'm too old to be dwelling on the past, but not too old to be there for someone who needs me.
bill
_________________ I can embrace myself, hold my own hand, love me - but, I can't gaze into my own eyes and feel my own soul lift me up.
i swear, if i had a dollar for everytime some girl asked me if the tattoo on my throat hurt, i'd still be broke because i spent it all on crack. you know, it's not that i mind them asking me if it hurt, but when i tell them that it didn't, they almost always excitely reply back, 'no way, it had to have hurt, i got a tattoo of a (butterfly, rose, dragon, heart, unicorn, bumble bee, peace sign, stop sign, stand in line sign) or a tattoo of their ( pet cat, pet dog, koi fish, baby, boy friend, mother, brother, brothers best friend, favourite hockey team, favourite dessert) on their *ss and it hurt so bad they couldn't sit down for a week.
well, this always leads then to me explaining how the throat doesn't have as many nerve endings as most other areas of the body, which of course still doesn't make a lot of sense to them and that also i happened to be totally inebriated at the time, which of course makes all the sense in the world to them.
anyway, i realized today just how tired i'm getting of the same reaction over and over and over again. it's become so redundant that lately when i walk into a clothing or food store, the first thing i do is just walk up to the cashier and say, 'no it didn't hurt at all' and then walk right back out again before security arrives.
anyway, the time has arrived to put an end to this repetitive charade. after all, i've quit drugs, turned over a new leaf. i'm a different person now and i'm looking for new experiences. time for me to take charge of my life and represent myself in a new light.
so, first thing tomorrow, i'm headin' downtown to one of those fine mens apparrel shops and buy me one of the snazziest top hats they got on shelf. then, i'm gonna flip through the yellow pages until i find a doctor who's qualified enough to surgically remove my *ss and graft it to the top of my head.
the next time one of them girls with a tattoo on their hiney, points to their throat and asks if that hurt, i'll just say, 'no, it didn't hurt at all", then lift up that top hat and say, 'but this sure as h*ll did!!"
if that don't get me laughin both my head and my *ss off at the same time, well i don't know what will.
_________________ I can embrace myself, hold my own hand, love me - but, I can't gaze into my own eyes and feel my own soul lift me up.
oh ya, and while i'm at it, another thing i'm getting really tired of hearing is those young twenty year old female cashiers at safeway foods asking me if i need a hand out to the car with my groceries. what do i look like? h*ll, i've been buying groceries from them for over twenty years but i don't remember no girl asking me if i needed a hand with my groceries when i was twenty-eight. back then, they used to just blush and get their fingers stuck between the cash register keys. these days when i set my groceries down, they always reach up and grab the little crucifix around their neck and start reciting the last rights. have i aged that much that i gotta start thinking about the more important things in life, like, if i pay for my groceries and then die while reaching for my change, what happens to my groceries.
but really, what's up with asking me if i need a hand out with my groceries? if i look that feeble, how come they don't ask me if i need a hand selecting my groceries as soon as i walk in the store? that would make more sense to me. an escort who could remove from the shelves the items i might need, such as bran cereal, prune juice, uncle murphy's morning tonic, depends underwear and bull dog tough denture grip. it just seems like a waste of time to be asking me if i need help after i've completed my half hour marathon for food.
now i'll admit that i may look like i'm struggling somewhat because i've opted for the hand basket instead of the shopping cart, but the days of out shopping for the whole family is behind me now, it's not my fault that the d*mn baskets are so small and fill up so fast. but i can handle it and i feel as strong as i ever did. the way they'd have you see it, is that i'm approaching the checkout counter, looking like iron man, draggin' a grey hound bus that's got all its tires flat, by my testicals. what's up girl? do i look like i got pain wrote over my face?
well you know, for as many times as these young gals have made a wrong assumption about my ability to fend for myself, i finally got one of them back one day. i happened to be wearing a pair of jeans which had developed a tear in the pocket the day before. change would fall right through the pocket and down into my boot. pretty annoying i'll tell you. well i tried hard all day to remember to put the change into my other pocket. well after tellin' that little flirt that, ' no, i'll be fine', i threw that change into the pocket with the tear, hefted up my four or five bags of groceries and turned to walk away. right then i felt the change givin into gravity and quickly turned back to the counter and set my bags down. placing both hands on the counter to keep my balance, i looked down and lifted my leg a few inches from the ground and began to shake it rather violently to catch all the change in my boot. you coulda heard that girl scream all the way back into the milk cooler, 'SIR, ARE YOU O.K.?'
i looked up her and i said, 'ya i'm alright. can't you hear the harp music playing? can you smell that smell?
nothings really changed that much in the twenty odd years i've been shopping for my groceries. i still carry them out on my own and on that particular night the cashier's face was all blushed because her fingers had got stuck between the keys in her panic.
_________________ I can embrace myself, hold my own hand, love me - but, I can't gaze into my own eyes and feel my own soul lift me up.
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