I was watching this video today and the comments on youtube were kind of thoughtful in some ways. One woman commented how she was 7 months out of a 6 yr abusive relationship and her sister told her it was her theme song. Another person commented that they felt that way about their depression for the song.
It occurred to me when I was watching the video the symbolism that I saw. The video is about transformations. The black fruit in the beginning- drugs. Eating something bad for you. Indulgent behavior. The pins in Christian’s back are what the girls are holding and using to walk with- crutches. Vices.
She was trapped in a box with blackness. Mindlessness. Darkness. Blindness. Refusing to see. She busts out of the box!!! She staggers away, the black billowing around her. The pins stick out of her back, and the more she staggers on, she’s able to pull the pins from her back and throw them away from herself.
I have felt this way about my relationship with weed. It is a relationship. I have been an everyday user for the past NINE (9) YEARS. It is officially the longest relationship that I have ever had. Boyfriends have come and gone, and still yet weed has remained.
I started smoking when I was 18 years old. I was in college and dating my first boyfriend. He had been smoking and hiding it from me and I was not happy about weed being in his life. I thought it made him stupid. I thought only bad people did drugs. I tried to make him stop smoking, and he would not give it up for me. I tried to issue an ultimatum and he would not have it. I didn’t want to break up with him, even though he was doing something I looked down.
I decided I had to give it a try to see why it was so important to him. He wasn’t willing to give it up for me, so I reasoned it must be…. cool. Good in some way. It was certainly important since he wouldn’t give it up for me. I tried it and everything was funny. We started doing it together until it became pretty much the focal point of our relationship.
We would sit out back in his dad’s garage and smoke. It was our main activity eventually. He was the one who started it for me, and I knew when I started that I started for the wrong reason. I felt pressured to do it. I had backed myself into a corner- give it up for me OR….. and I wasn’t willing to leave my boyfriend for not giving it up. I reasoned if it was a part of his life, I didn’t want to be excluded from that part of his life. I felt like I had to do it, try it.
It wasn’t hard for me to start enjoying it rather than resenting it. I came to love and enjoy it. And even when my first boyfriend broke up with me, I still wanted to do it and kept up the usage. I smoked with my next boyfriend after that, too. I don’t necessarily remember it being everyday in that relationship….
Things changed with my relationship with weed when I got with my first older boyfriend. He was an alcoholic. We both liked to smoke. It was then that my relationship with weed became something different. It wasn’t a fun thing to do anymore, it was a necessity. He and I spent our evenings figuring out ways to get high. It wasn’t optional anymore- I took to his addictive behavior like a fish to water. Suddenly, I needed the weed. I didn’t just enjoy it, I was willing to do a lot of things to get it and smoke it.
We would go to his brother’s house and beg him for balls of resin if we couldn’t afford weed. Anything to get that THC. We used to carefully transport it back to his house and he devised clever ways to smoke it and make it last. We’d put just a tiny speck of it on the head of a needle embedded in a piece of cardboard and light it, putting it under a glass and inhaling as much as we could from the trace amounts that we had. I didn’t just want need, I needed it.
I used to criticize him for his drinking problem, and he in turn told me, “You smoke weed like I drink.” I wasn’t willing to admit that I had a problem, that I had an addictive personality as well. I was addicted. I needed it. I threw away all my old friends during this period of my life. I gave up my old friends for drugs and alcohol. I told myself they were boring and lame, liking board games and never wanting to get drunk. I wanted a fun life, high life, drunken stories. My friends were not going down the same path as me, so I left them behind.
I didn’t just want to get drunk or high, I wanted to forget myself. I smoked and drank to excess. I didn’t just drink for a little buzz, I wanted to be black out drunk and not remember anything the next day. I thought I was having fun, but I was running away from my problems.
My granny had passed away and my mother’s depression was deep. I couldn’t face the depth of my mother’s depression. I used to sit in my room and listen to her shuffling cards in the living room and her loneliness was suffocating to me. She needed me in some way I couldn’t provide. My mom needed someone to take care of her, and I resented it and ran away. She was supposed to be taking care of me, but instead at every turn she tried to put me down or make me feel bad about myself. We had a bad relationship that was toxic to me.
Partly why I tossed my hat in with Joshua so much is because I was needing a mother really bad. He lived with his mother, and she was spiritual and nice to me. She only saw good things in me where my mother never wasted an opportunity to try and make me feel stupid or inadequate in some way.
When I met Jake, I still had a bad relationship with my mother. I was mostly living in my car and off the kindness of my exes. I hated going home. I hated being around my mother. Her loneliness killed me, I had to get away. I couldn’t make her better, she only ever got worse. I didn’t like to go home so I would spend nights using wifi in Mcdonald’s parking lots or I would stay the night with Hakim or Joshua, bouncing back and forth between the two. There were nights that were question marks to me, not knowing where I could go but home. I didn’t want to be there.
When I got with Jake, there was FINALLY someone to take care of me. There was finally someone who wanted to possess me and keep me and do right by me. He bought me clothes and he took me away from my mother. He welcomed me into his life and his home and he let me bring my weed with me even though he no longer smoked himself.
Through all those years, I kept on smoking weed. I’ve tried to quit smoking weed in the past and I never felt the way that I do right now. The first time I tried to quit cold turkey and I was a basket case, extremely emotional. I couldn’t quit. My compulsion was too strong. I needed it. I went back on it after only 5 days.
The next time I tried to quit, I actually went over a week without it. I went 12 days. That time I threw away my pipes. I don’t remember why I started back when I did. This time, I believe I have actually hit the 12 day mark and I feel differently about it.
I’m not necessarily quitting cold turkey, I have went like a few days at a time and then had a smoke of resin that I have still laying around. The problem before is I would have that compulsion to smoke and I had to go out and buy a bag of weed, and that was history. Having a bag of weed meant I needed to smoke it all. I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t sit down and just have a little, or only every once in awhile. If I had weed, the goal was to smoke it all consecutively until it was gone and get more.
My one year wedding anniversary is next month. I got married when I was 26 and part of the reason why is because I recognized I wasn’t getting any younger. I wasn’t 23 anymore, if I waited around I might end up old and alone. I looked at Jacob and I told myself, you know by now if this is going to work out. If you don’t want to marry him, then you need to leave him. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him, so I married him.
This time around smoking feels different because my motivation has been more adult that I could ever have imagined. I’m 27 now and when am I going to have children? When am I going to grow up? I can’t smoke weed forever.
I have had urges to smoke, have romanticized my relationship with weed. I thought I was missing the joy in my life by not smoking. I wasn’t happy not smoking and I thought about how good I feel and how much more I smile when I’m smoking, but I’m not really living. Smoking is the same thing as when I used to want to get drunk all the time. I thought I was having a good time, but I wasn’t— I was trying to forget myself.
You can’t forget yourself, though. Like I said, my motivation for quitting is entirely different this time. I looked at my life and I realized I was not happy. All my friends are fictional and I never see my family. I spent all my nights watching TV and all my days off sitting at home smoking weed. Weed is keeping me from being the person that I need to become.
I decided to go back to school this fall. I quit college almost 4 years ago, and with the decision to go back I started thinking more about my future. Jake says I am not healthy enough to have natural children. I weigh too much. I smoke too much. I’m not responsible enough. Weed has done a lot of things for me over the years, but now I am realizing what I always knew.
Weed keeps me from;
- cleaning house
- having meaningful relationships with my family
- making friends/strengthening friendships
- working out
- caring about myself
- attending to my husband’s needs/a better marriage
- making more money
I’m sorry weed but I can’t keep doing this. I want all the things I just listed. I don’t want to surrender to mindlessness anymore. I don’t want to not care about myself. I want lungs that are healthy and I want to get healthier, eat better, go to sleep earlier. I want more money in my pocket. I want to be better than I have in the past. I want to do something that my future self will thank me for. Weed, you are keeping me from realizing my full potential. You are holding me back. And when someone holds you back, you either let them go and move on, or you resign yourself to your fate.
I don’t have to resign myself to this fate. I want more for my life. I want to like myself. I want to have friends. I want to have a better marriage and more money. I have to leave you. I can’t be with you anymore. We had a lot of good time together, and there’s nothing wrong with you in small amounts, but this life where you are the only thing that matters is not working anymore. I don’t want you 16 hours of the day anymore. I don’t want you to be my everything. I want a life.
I’m so full of love I could barely eat
There’s nothing sweeter than my baby
I’d never want once from the cherry tree
‘Cause my baby’s sweet as can be
She give me toothaches just from kissin’ me
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I’ll crawl home to her
My baby never fret none
About what my hands and my body done
If the lord don’t forgive me
I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me
When I was kissing on my baby
And she put her love down soft and sweet
In the lowland plot I was free
Heaven and hell were words to me
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I saw a commercial today for Gatorade. Michael Jordan asked, “Do you want to know what the key to victory is? Defeat.”
There is something to be said in rising every time you fail. I was/am trying to quit smoking and I am making slip ups. If my goal was to give up smoking cold turkey, then I have failed my mission.
I feel so much happier when I smoke. I ask myself, “Why am I denying myself this? It feels so good.” It feels so good to not care. But god dammit, not caring is a slippery slope. I feel care-free right now and relieved from smoking some dirty resin. But how quickly care-free turns into a bottomless pit of despair that you’re sitting at the bottom of, smoking to forget where you are.
It’s terrible living in such despair. I have to stay away from it. I did a bad job lately when it comes to my self-reflection. For the past week and a half I have been neglecting to journal in my One Day at a Time journal and it’s fucked me up missing those days.
I have been participating in Al-Anon privately. Unfortunately, I’ve only ever went to one actual meeting and that was years ago for someone else’s problem. I realize I need to go to the meetings, I just haven’t made it a priority since I am trying to be dedicated more so to the literature. I’m on Step 4 right now which is to make a “fearless and searching moral inventory of yourself.”
That is a hard enough step without moving onto the next one. Step 5, “Become willing to admit these faults to another human being.” I made an appointment with a therapist. I could go to free meetings, but I’m too intimidated to go into a room of other people. I feel like I have to start small and admit my secrets to one person. Maybe she’ll be able to help me, but I can’t be sure. Then perhaps I can move onto the group meetings, I just feel not equal to it currently.
It’s hard to care about myself when I’ve spent so much time perfecting not caring. One nice thing about quitting smoking is that my dreams are coming back. I’ve been getting better sleep and feeling more rested. I’m not late to work because I’m smoking. I’ve been showing up to work earlier.
I have had to take more anxiety pills. It’s been 10 days since I’ve smoked actual weed. I have refrained from buying more. Technically, all I am doing is getting rid of the last of my stash. I just have a little resin left. I know I should throw it away. I have considered asking my husband to hide it for emergencies. I can’t bring myself to let him hide it, or throw it away.
Even if I’ve smoked resin a few times since Day 1, my habits are drastically improved. In my past life, I came home at 11:30pm and sat down in front of the computer and I smoked until sun up. Then I would wake and bake before work the next day. About 7 hours of the day is what I was averaging sober before. I am making progress, even if I’ve fucked up and indulged some. I just have to have a stricter resolve.
I have to remember that my discomfort is TEMPORARY. IT WILL PASS.
Steve Carell is known as a funny guy, but he has some excellent romantic roles in him as well. My hubby and I just watched;
He had some fucking killer lines. My heart broke for them. Some of my favorite lines-
Penny: I wish I’d met you a long time ago. When we were kids.
Dodge: It couldn’t have happened any other way. It had to happen now.
Penny: But it isn’t enough time.
Dodge: It never would have been.
Penny: I’m scared.
Dodge: I… am madly in love with you, Penny. You’re my favorite, favorite thing.
Penny: I thought that somehow we’d save each other.
Dodge: We did. Penny. I’m really glad I got to know you.
Will Sansa betray Jon?
I think the question that needs to be answered here is how important is family to Sansa? I honestly don’t think that she finds Littlefinger’s proposal tempting. I don’t see how she could ever forgive him for what happened with Ramsay. I don’t see them becoming a power couple, I don’t think she could ever trust him considering she also witnessed the scene between her aunt and him. She has even said so herself, “Only a fool would trust Littlefinger.”
I actually adore Petyr’s devious character and am in no hurry to see him killed off, but I support theories that Arya or Sansa will be the one to kill him ultimately. If she does team up with Littlefinger to overthrow Jon, it would be a very brief alliance where she kills him as soon as she gets what she wants.
Sansa is so familiar with being powerless for most of the show, I can see her getting a lot of satisfaction out of ruling. I, however, do not think she would be willing to participate in her family’s murder to accomplish it. With Bran and Arya near there may still be a reunion, and if that reunion took place I think it would drastically decrease her willingness to overthrow Jon.
I more so see Jon going to be with Dany once everyone becomes aware of his parentage. Perhaps he will leave the North in his sister’s capable hands when he leaves.
|How Should You Spend Your Day Off?|
You are one smart cookie, and most of your smarts have come from teaching yourself things. You are a glutton for information, and you read almost everything that you can get your hands on.
For you, there is nothing more luxurious than spending a day among books, articles, and maybe your own written word.
You travel the world, meet new friends, live many lives, and earn new degrees simply through reading!
|What kind of reader are you?|
You are an Eclectic Reader
You will read almost anything, and you think the best gems are discovered randomly. You are curious about books.
Of all the types, you are the most likely to spend time browsing a bookstore, especially one with used and rare books.
Your taste is varied, but if you had to say, it’s pretty far outside the mainstream. You don’t like anything too predictable.
You appreciate experimental writing and writing that challenges you. You prefer books that make you grow, even if you they are more difficult to read.
|What kind of book are you?|
You Are Realistic Fiction
You are an outgoing person and very interested in others. You have many relationships that are important to you.
You are always willing to lend an ear to a friend with a problem. And you’re even pretty good at giving advice!
Some may accuse you of loving drama, but you just seem to find yourself in the middle of it.
You are a true people person. You find the lives of others to be fascinating. You’re up for hearing anyone’s life story.
|The Book Shelf Test|
Your Book Shelf is Impressive
You collect books because you can’t imagine doing anything else. You’ve never met anyone who loves books as much as you do.
It’s hard for you to resist almost any book. Sure, you prefer good ones, but you’ve acquired plenty of weird and mediocre and just plain bad books too.
Your favorite book tends to be the one that you just finished reading. And with you, that can change on a weekly (or even daily) basis.
You read for all sorts of reasons – to relax, to learn, to grow, to laugh. You have books for every occasion and craving.
Your book collection is completely out of control and impossible to organize. You have books in every single room of the house.
You’re constantly borrowing, lending, buying, selling, and trading books. You love to share the joy of reading with everyone you know.
A look in the mirror and she’s the same in the face but older in the eyes. (read this Hey Arnold fanfiction I read that in, it is AMAZING)
between the shadow and the soul by ashleykay
Thursday was deep and hot and when she woke it was to sticky wet sheets and a feeling that the world had not changed.
Words: 5,912 Chapters: 2/5 Comments: 11 Kudos: 20 Bookmarks: 4 Hits: 317
Today I have hardly slept. That is nothing new. However, the activities I was engaged in this morning were truly astounding to me. Jake and I have been talking about building for our future. I astonished the hell out of myself by walking back onto that college campus, sight and reminder of my past failures.
My first time around in college I regrettably slacked off. I wasted my time and their money. I couldn’t be bothered to do homework, and I slept through classes. I had to drop math 3 times because of the combination of those two problems. It took me forever to finally knock it out.
I lost focus while I was in school, preoccupied with my mother’s problems and my own woes and dating a stupid alcoholic. I dropped out of college with one class standing between me and my business degree. I just stopped going because the class was too hard, and I’d already taken the class once before. I was too proud to get tutoring, and I didn’t care enough to try so I just quit.
Four years later, and I was standing in the orange office again. My hands were trembling when I first noticed how nervous I felt. I had this sensation that someone was going to drop the bullshit smiles and look at me honestly and say, “Are you really sure about coming back? Looks like you weren’t too interested the first time.”
I don’t know how interested I am, but I still did it. I enrolled in classes to start in the Fall, or at least they are pending right now. At any rate, I started the goddamn process, and I am utterly stunned at myself. What are you doing, helping yourself? *shock of disbelief, I am so good at standing in my own way*
Visit postsecret.com for more inspiring messages, this one caught my attention.
I am surprised at myself because I am such a lazy person. I don’t know how I convinced myself to actually go and submit myself to the torture that is rising early for classes and actually applying my intelligence to something. Except I do know how, and it’s very disconcerting to me honestly.I am interested in perusing a dietitian degree. I want to turn my life around. I have a window of about 3-5 years to birth healthy babies, and I want to make myself healthy enough to house a little one. I don’t want kids now, but I need to build the house for them for when they do come. I want to be healthier sooner.
I look at myself in the mirror and I body-shame myself. I see my meaty arms and thighs and love handles and what I really see is cushy defeat and sorrow in all that fat. It’s like I’ve given up, but that’s not really so. I just have forgotten how to act like I care about myself.
I’ve spent so much time trying to numb myself to the things I’d rather not think about that I have robbed myself of true pleasure. I am always engaging in false pleasures, fleeting feelings. The feeling of not giving a fuck inevitably goes away until you smoke again. Smoke, or go crazy unable to escape your own thoughts.
I have established a new school of discipline for myself. It’s actually pretty funny! Hubby and I have been obsessed with watching Gordon Ramsay and all his TV shows. Master Chef, Master Chef Junior, The F word, Kitchen Nightmares, Hotel Hell. Emulating Gordon Ramsay landed my husband a promotion at the hospital kitchen he works in.
Our respect for him is very obvious. I have watched him so much that now when I am sitting down to eat, I actually look at my meal and say to myself, “Gordon Ramsay wouldn’t want me to eat this.” I usually just ate robotically in the past until way past the point of full. Lately I have been limiting my portions and I have avoided splurging on things that I know are bad for me by constantly reminding myself of what he would say about my food choices.
I haven’t taken care of myself because of ignorance. Now I am going to seek education and do better with it. I want to change my life and my motivations and be different than I am today. I want to give up the drugs and sedentary life style and be someone better. I guess I was so surprised because I actually took the first step today, instead of just thinking or talking about it. I don’t know if I can actually do it, accomplish getting up in the mornings and being more of a regular and responsible person, but I guess all I can do is try.
My birthday has come and gone. 26 started as good year for me. It was the year I got married. I should have taken it as a good sign when I went one birthday without bawling my eyes out. 27 was not such a lucky start.
My 27th birthday began horribly. I had to spend it with my angry husband and alienated biological father. My husband and I got into a HUGE HORRENDOUS argument over the fact that my useless father doesn’t have a vehicle. He had a 2 o’clock curfew for the half way house with no ride home.
Jake would not allow us to give him a ride because of the contents of his pockets. He had good reason to deny the request seeing as we never know what he might be carrying- but Jake has been pulled over exactly ONCE in the almost 4 years I’ve known him. I figured it would be safe enough, so I argued with my husband.
I had a mental breakdown first thing in the morning since we were arguing about it as soon as we woke up. He screamed bloody murder at me in the car and told me he didn’t care about me. On my birthday at some point he inevitably suggests we shouldn’t be together anymore. He has a specialty in fucking the day up, always needing to bring me to hysterical tears.
I was bawling in the walgreens we went to pick a father’s day card from. My birthday was 2 days before Father’s Day. I was already late to my meeting with Johnny. That was traumatic in and of itself, standing in the walgreen’s greeting card aisle tears streaming down my face as my husband disrespects me and cusses me as I frantically search through the cards.
So many wrong cards for Johnny; Best Dad Ever, You’re My Super Hero, Thank You For Always Being There For Me Dad, I Love You. It’s more like-
Dear Biological Father;
I wish my mother had never told me about you. She kept the secret from me for over 20 years, what was the rest of my life? I would have preferred she took her secret to the grave. I don’t want to know you or love you. I wish you were a long-forgotten lover of hers. I wish you had remained a distant memory from her past. I wish you had never reconnected, or ever showed me any love. I regret knowing about you, and wish I could forget she ever told me about you.
On the way out of Walgreens, Jake threatened to throw me out of the car and leave me. He screamed more at me, and I bawled uncontrollably because he’s always threatening me with divorce, making me feel like I’m not wanted.
When we got to my mother’s house where Johnny was waiting, Jake went so far as to threaten to leave me alone. He got in the car and started it up. I stayed standing on the porch in front of the front door with my heart in my throat from my nervous breakdown and the stress of seeing my father for the first time in two years, before I collapsed into tears out of sight of the front window and by my mother’s front yard fence.
There were so many feelings mixed with Jake’s hurt he inflicted. I hadn’t seen my dad in two years on purpose. We hadn’t spoken, and I felt wretchedly guilty about shutting him out of my life. I felt ashamed of myself. I was scared to look him in the eyes. I was afraid he’d look at me with an angry or injured expression, and I felt like I couldn’t escape.
Instead he held me non-judgmentally while Jake was making me cry. His embrace was so warm and sincere I definitely felt comforted from my earlier breakdown. I cried in his arms, but I think he thought I was emotionally charged from seeing him again, which I was partly. It felt good to be forgiven without having to ask.
I hate him for loving me the way I want to be loved. No one has loved me like him since my ex Elizabeth and my Grandma. He doesn’t believe I can do anything wrong. I am golden to him, and it’s a fucking crying shame to be so revered by someone you cannot even bare to speak with.
It feels wretched to me, to crave his perception of me and his love, but to not be able to welcome him into my life. I feel like me and my parents are standing on two different sides of a canyon, I can’t love them even when I try.
If I want Johnny’s good, I have to accept his bad, and I won’t. I can’t. So if I can’t stomach his bad, I don’t deserve his good. You can’t pick and choose what you want from a person, you get all of them or nothing. And with Johnny, I find myself wondering how safe nothing is.
Is it worth this empty feeling inside?