As a Result of the Result

Soooo, some of you know that recently I've been depressed. Deeply depressed, clearly, and suffering some scary physical issues (ie narcolepsy, it would seem) as a result of emotional turmoil, being in constant reaction, trying to heal extremely deep and painful wounds and constantly processing all of this and everything else. 

As a result of the result of this (ha) I haven't been doing art, haven't had the creative possess or desire, not to mention the self confidence to even finish things started long ago let alone start anything new....Until recently. I finished some art. Which felt really good, and was a big confidence booster, especially since I was actually excited about the result.

I also have not been blogging, OBVIOUSLY, which is tragic! But writing is one of the things that was triggering me the most. Blogging. It's what brought the scary sleep problem back after 4 or 5 years of not having an episode. Basically, at risk of sounding like I'm self diagnosing here, I can only compare my experience to my understanding of narcolepsy. 

This IS a trauma response for me, and is definitely triggered by really powerful, hurtful emotions, it always has been. This use to happen every now and again, but until about a month ago I hadn't had to deal with it in about 4 years. But it happened a number of times, when it happened before. I would get upset, and just straight up pass out, no matter where I was or what was going on around me. 

When this would happen, 4 or 5 years ago, it was really intense and scary. Basically, I would experience a complete loss of control and function. Even over the ability to speak. The last thing that would happen is my eyes would shut, and up until that point, I remember being fully aware of everything, just unable to move. People would be trying to talk to me, ask if I was ok, but I wouldn't be able to answer. I would just go to sleep.

The difference with the most intense (and first) of my more recent experiences was that I noticed early on that I was starting to feel funny, presumably because I'm so much more conscious and present in my body. Because of this heightened sense of awareness, I was able to catch the symptoms in the beginning stages, stop what I was doing, which was blogging, and give myself my full attention. And I was able to take control of the situation, instead of losing control.

After a few seconds of just paying attention, I remembered when I had felt that way before, a heavy, achy sorta feeling in my body, indescribable feeling of discomfort in my stomach and tired eyed, a strange feeling of gradual loss of control..Helplessness..And I knew what was most likely coming. So I made myself get up and go do something with my dogs, to kinda distract from what I was writing, ie what was most likely causing that to happen. It was really hard to do, but it worked, I didn't pass out.

After this, when I would start to experience the symptoms, I would divert myself. I would say something to someone if I was in group or session, or make myself get up and move until it passed. I have been very much on an emotional edge lately, and haven't really been able take much before I start to react. Involuntarily. These kinda things tend to creep up on ya.

Lately, it hasn't been so intense as it was there for a little while, but I find that I still sorta shut down..When people get upset around me and raise their voices, I suddenly feel very small, scared, and it's not unusual for me to start crying. Or just get really quiet and basically distance myself in whatever way possible. Even if it's just to tune everything out.

I decided to take a break from writing for a while, as this was primarily when I would go into reaction. I have 8 or 9 unfinished blogs now. A lot comes up for me when I write, and I try to process all that arises by acknowledging it in my writing, and working with it by just allowing it to be there. But since this doesn't seem to be working, I'm not sure when I will revisit and attempt to finish the incomplete writing. All I can say is, when the time is right.

Maybe you've picked up on this with me, maybe you haven't, either way I just have to say out loud, to someone other than myself and my pups, that without creativity, I don't feel alive. It's definitely (obviously) been a struggle through my various attempts at sobriety, and many many many times in the past, creativity, or the lack thereof, has been a huge reason I started using again after being sober for x amount of time.

This particular attempt at recovery, however, has been different in that I have not suffered the level of severity I am accustomed to regarding lack of creativity while I'm sober. I know it's a big part of what's kept me going. Creativity and my dogs....They are the 2 main things. So my recent lack of inspiration was pretty intense and difficult to deal with. But here we are. And almost a year deep, none the less.

I'm baaaaaaaaaack.....Or, at least, trying very genuinely to be.

Ibogaine...A Possible Release from Severe Addiction?

Several years ago I lived in a small camp in Baja California, Mexico, called Baja Malibu. Quiet, quaint, beautiful, cheap and only about 15 miles from the US border, it was amazing. I'll never forget the Bu or the great times I had there, the great friends I made there, or the fact that I got Bruti while I lived there...Or many of the interesting things I learned there.

A few houses down from me on the same street lived an interesting (to say the least!) couple named Maya and Martin. Martin preferred the name Mars, he was an odd cat, tall, Mexican, hippie...Intelligent. Intellectual in a different and interesting way than I was use to. Even though most people (and even yours truly) found him weird, I liked listening to him talk. He had interesting ideas.

Maya, a HHP and massage therapist, was Caucasian and very fair, with long wavy red hair. She, too, was interesting to me, I was just learning what holistic health meant, and becoming very interested in a more natural lifestyle. I remember asking her lots of questions about being a HHP and even a massage therapist, and she was cool, she never seemed to mind answering.

Over time it became obvious that Mars and Maya were working on some kinda project. A documentary about something. They never talked about it, and I was always curious, of course. One particularly late night Martin finally spilled the beans. They were doing testing, a study....On a cure for Heroine addiction.

Mars and Maya explained to me why Heroine is so addictive, what happens to the brain when a person does H, even one time. They explained to me that there is no "cure" for this addiction, at least, legally. Then they told me about Ibogaine. Some kind of root from Africa that cures Heroine addiction, after just 1 treatment!

They told me that the treatment, however, was illegal in the US, because Ibogaine is considered a drug itself. And for good reason! The trip that one embarks on upon taking this substance, according to my neighbors, was similar to taking Peyote. A spiritual journey, lasting up to 3 days, but with lifelong results regarding addiction to H. Somehow, this Ibogaine, would permanently fill the receptors in the brain that scream for H, that keep an addict an addict.

Eventually, Mars and Maya's landlord got wind of something going on in their house, and kicked them out, stating that a business could not be run from that location. Basically, the old lady neighbors, like hens always clucking around, saw people in and out, and cameras through the windows, and started a rumor they were filming porn. Needless to say, Maya and Mars moved, and I have not seen either since.

My story so far is simply a recollection of late night conversation, and may not be worded accurately, but this is what I remember. It's always stuck with me, along with a lot of questions regarding WHY our government wouldn't consider testing this substance if it can have such a profound benefit! So many people suffer from Heroine addiction! But....Go figure.

Then, thanks to a FaceBook friend of mine who posted a link, I came across this article: Why Thousands Are Turning to a Psychedelic Plant from Africa for Release from Severe Addictions | Drugs | AlterNet which is about....IBOGAINE! Check it out, and if you're inspired, follow the link and read more....LOTS more.

Here’s how the miracle works. The conventional approach to treating opiate addiction is to employ a substitution therapy like methadone or suboxone, maintenance drugs that keep the addict addicted to a less potent, more manageable opiate analog. This means that the only available treatment does not actually stop the addiction. So what’s the point?

Ibogaine works, it is believed, by filling in the receptor sites that the opiate molecules once sought, ending the craving for the drug, while at the same time metabolizing in the liver into noribogaine, which is thought to have powerful detoxifying and anti-depressant properties. The million dollar jackpot is that ibogaine can eliminate the exceedingly painful and dangerous opiate withdrawal process, sometimes in a single dose. In effect, it has the power to hit the reset button on the brain’s neurotransmitter mechanism.

Ibogaine has never been popular as a recreational drug regardless of its legal status. There is not a single recorded case of ibogaine addiction anywhere. Those who use it do so infrequently, because, like ayahuasca or peyote, it takes a toll on the mind, body and spirit, never mind that most folks don't consider vomiting and diarrhea to be particularly social activities. Only two iboga-related arrests are known to have occurred in the U.S., and 20 people are on record as having died within 72 hours of taking ibogaine, mostly due to either heart complications or drug contraindications.

This specific focus on the treatment of addiction is what distinguishes the ibogaine underground from other psychedelic subcultures, like the rapidly growing ayahuasca community. Writing on the “ibogaine medical subculture” for the Journal of Ethno-Pharmacology, Alper and Lotsof describe the underground as, "...homes, hotel rooms and private clinics in North America and Europe, [where] individuals in increasing numbers are taking ibogaine in what has been termed ‘a vast uncontrolled experiment.’”

Because a safe and legal alternative is not available in the U.S, the ibogistas have been forced on to more tolerant legal climes in Canada, Mexico, Costa Rica, and Europe in order to avoid becoming de facto criminals. For those who remain in the states as lay-providers, they role the dice every time they take an addict’s life into their hands, but they feel, unequivocally, that the medicine is safe and the risk is worth it.--- Why Thousands Are Turning to a Psychedelic Plant from Africa for Release from Severe Addictions | Drugs | AlterNet

Could this Ibogaine cure the uncurable? What do YOU think??

90 Days Deep on Tuesday the First!

ORIGINALLY POSTED: August 30, 2009 5:01:58 PM ON SHAKTI YAHOO COMMUNITY

First of all, I want to thank everyone for the warm and inspiring welcome to the Shakti Community Yahoo Group, I can't put into words how much the responses I have received from everyone mean to me, the encouragement and feeling of sisterhood is really amazing and something I have needed deeply for as long as I can remember. This just FEELS like home, and I am so gracious to be accepted and held here. Thank you!

Secondly.....Tuesday, September 01, 2009 is my 90th day methamphetamine free. This is HUGE for me, addiction to this substance has haunted me for 15 years. I am thinking I want to celebrate! Anyone have any ideas? What do all of YOU think??? 

Namaste!

F day 85, I'm over it and it's over anyways. Day 86 here I am..

ORIGINALLY POSTED:   Fri, Aug 28, 2009 at 12:41 AM    ON SHAKTI YAHOO COMMUNITY

So, this is my maiden post here on the Shakti Community group, so ahoy, friends, and to the folks I don't know, my name is Jamie Lee, and it is now 7 minutes into the 86th day of my recovery from a 15 year drug addiction, but moreover, all the shit I just have never been capable of processing appropriately. 

It's scary shit, feeling all these feelings. Seriously, truly FEELING them consciously and trying to cope with it. I'm tired, and scared.

I felt for so long that I was just floating by, that shit just happened to me and I couldn't help it, I had nothing to do with it in some way, while (oddly enough) still realizing that it was my actions that made them happen, still, always thinking, "It doesn't happen to everyone, so why me, why did I have the bad luck?"

But now, I don't see it like that anymore, it wasn't luck, it just was what it was. I see all this differently now, and the scariest thing is NOT figuring out that I have reaped what I have sown and that's just the way it is, what did I expect, instead it's realizing that I can do anything I want to do, and that I always get what I want..And always have been able to...

It's just that I have always chosen things that weren't the RIGHT things, you know? It's scary to feel so empowered, and to realize what I am capable of. ANYTHING! It feels like so much responsibility. Ugh! I'm just gonna keep on going, even when days like today, days where I don't FEEL like it, consume me with the undeniable desire to just turn it all off for a while.



So, where am I? Returning from a week long hiatus. No, I didn't relapse, I find myself definitely NOT wanting to use but trying to justify why I should not go to group or Shakti in general, finding other things to fill the void or occupy my time...Because this work takes everything I've got so often. Dealing with all the emotions exhausts me, not to mention that reaching 90 days without smoking crystal meth even 1 time is a pretty big milestone that taxes my energy even more. 

And with the fact that I haven't been feeling well this last week and am dealing with some scary health concerns, which include fatigue on an incredibly noticeable and disheartening level, I feel extremely tapped out. Like I just need to step back and put it all away for a minute, a day, a week, whatever it takes until I am back to my usual hyper as hell self, when I have the energy to take this all on like I want to. When I can give it 100% like I always try to do. 



But....Then I have dreams of using, actually getting high, I get my runes read and the story they tell is horrendous, synchronicity is all around me, and all these things point to Shakti, tell me to get myself back to the safety of my sisters, my friends, even though I'm tired and SICK of dealing with myself, and don't want to look in the mirror right now, don't want to go anywhere that I have to look at this.

So here I am, I made it to only 1 group this week and nothing else, but here I am. Gotta keep moving, no rest for the wicked, or is it weary, or maybe it's just me. LoL. I'm tired and can't keep track anymore of my thoughts this eve.

Maybe I'll sleep soon.


Where I Am, Where Do I Want To Be?

ORIGINALLY POSTED: September 13, 2009 8:09:03 PM ON SHAKTI YAHOO COMMUNITY

This week, as many of you already know, has been a hard one for me. And yes, although I have been clean from meth for 102 days, I did relapse on alcohol this week. There, I said it. 

I didn't like it Friday night when a fellow apprentice told others that I had relapsed on alcohol immediately after I told her. She asked me a question and I was honest in my answer, and yes, it's true that Shakti is open with issues like these, that they are public knowledge. But I feel like I deserved the opportunity to own my relapse, to tell the others myself, and that's something I still feel. I thought everyone deserved a chance to tell their "shit" first, and if in good time it hadn't been done, then out with it from anyone who may know. To me, 15 minutes or so just doesn't seem like "good time."

However, in retrospect, I recognize that I am not necessarily the authority on situations like these. I mean, if it was going to be known, who cares where it came from, right? God, I wish it were that simple, I wish all of this were simple, but nothing in life right now is easy. Or simple for that matter. 

This is all I've got right now, I'm spent. Another long day in a short life.

Recovery and Going Public....Live and In the Flesh

ORIGINALLY POSTED:   Sunday, February 07, 2010      

 






Friday, February 05th, 2010 marked the date of the Shakti Rising Friday Night Salon, a very important once monthly event which allows the community (including but not limited to future volunteers, donors, apprentices, etc) to come be a part of Shakti Rising for the evening. Guests experience first hand how the program works, and what it's like to be a part of the Shakti Community, from the standpoint of the Apprentices, Volunteers and Staff Members as they are given a tour of the grounds. A meal is also served, during which Guests are encouraged to converse with each other, Shakti Staff and Volunteers, and even the Apprentices. Friday Night Salons are a huge part of what sustains Shakti Rising, as this is a very real way for financial supporters to see how their contributions help create social change. Friday Night Salons are probably the most important event we host, please click HERE if you would like more information.
This month's Salon was particularly special to me, as I had my first experience speaking publicly about my recovery. Please click play on the YouTube video above to listen to my speech. You see, prior to the tour I spoke of earlier, there is a presentation explaining a little bit more about Shakti Rising and it's history.  And in the spirit of Valentine's Day, myself, being in early recovery, and another woman who's a mid-level apprentice, were to speak for 2-3 minutes each about what Shakti Rising's Mission Statement, The Heart of Shakti, means to us, and how it has resonated in the different stages of our recovery.

So, to rewind a little bit...Earlier in the day, I was fine tuning my speech, and ended up tearing it up and throwing it away. This is not an uncommon thing for me to do when I'm trying to put the finishing touches on almost anything, I become obsessive about my work being perfect and almost compulsively review it over and over, picking it apart in the smallest ways, until at some point I read it....And it ceases to make sense to me anymore. At which point I have to trash it, HAVE TO, because it's such a disappointment to me to ruin something I've put so much work into by simply trying to make it perfect. Ridiculous, right? Well, it happened. And of course, at this point, my concentration was shot. Of course, I wasn't happy about what I had done, but by this point, I couldn't figure out what was worse...Destroying my work or writing a speech that just didn't feel right with the intention of reading it to others. So, in defeat, I reached a state of acceptance and was able to avoid being overcome with anxiety. I'd figure it out one way or another.

So I got ready and went to Shakti, thinking that maybe a change in environment would help me focus. Try as I might, though, the best I could come up with was some notes, and embarrassingly, they were the most basic of reminders. "Hi, my name is...." "...I grew up in the HeartLand..." "I did a college project about Shakti...." Etc. I basically ended up with 6 sentences written down on the back of my copy of The Heart of Shakti, and I struggled to come up with that much. At this point, I started to feel the twinges of anxiety creeping into my body. But nothing else was coming to me, so I decided my words would have to simply come from the heart. As the time was drawing near, I did a practice run with one of the Shakti staff members. She said it was great, and to just go with it. That it's ok to be nervous, and to just take my time. Not long after that, and only minutes before it was time to get the show on the road, we got the news that I would be speaking alone...

Of course, at that point I got even more nervous, like, REALLY nervous..The other woman that was suppose to speak with me is incredibly amazing at public speaking. So I'd kind of comforted myself with the thought that even if I messed up really badly, it would be ok, because no one would remember what I'd said anyways, good OR bad, after hearing her speak. So now all I had to rely on was myself, and thankfully, I didn't have a lot of space to process that fact, or play out my vision of what could happen and every possible ending/fatal, irrecoverable mistake over and over again in my head, because there just wasn't enough time for that.  And before I knew it, we had moved from the entry way of the Butterfly House into the living room, and I was being introduced to a very energetic group of probably 30-40 people, mostly strangers.

I began to speak as soon as I was introduced, but even before my introduction, as I was listening to Christianne talk about important details like the location of the bathroom, etc, I started to get that funny feeling in my throat, and my eyes started to feel moist. I was about to start crying, before saying even 1 word. It took all of my willpower to NOT let that happen. And when I did begin my speech, I could hear it in my voice, the wavering sound of someone who is about to start crying. But I didn't cry, I started speaking and didn't stop until I felt as though I'd made the point of my speech clear. My nose even started to run a little, like it does when I cry, and I started to feel very hot and a little sticky a few sentences into what I had to say, but I focused all of my attention on making sure that my story came from the heart, and touched on everything that I wanted to say.

When I was done and had exited the room, I immediately started getting a lot of excited feedback. So many people said that I was great, that my story was very moving and beautiful, and a few people even told me that I had succeeded in making Mallory (one of the directors of Shakti Rising) cry. A lot of people told me that I didn't seem nervous at all, and that I certainly didn't seem like this was the first time I had done something like this. So I guess those 2 things can be our secret! But above all of these things, and all of the other nice, encouraging things people had to say to me throughout the rest of the evening in regard to my speech, the thing that has stuck with me the most is a feeling of accomplishment, and even deeper than that, a more developed sense of self confidence and a deeper trust and belief in myself. I was real, I was only who I am, I came straight from the heart with honesty and passion. And it worked out perfectly. What I have to say and who I am does matter....And I CAN do it!

 

Anger

ORIGINALLY POSTED:  Wednesday, January 20, 2010
  

It's 2:25 AM Wednesday, January 20th, 2010....And here I am. The solace of night is comforting, but not as much as usual. Even though late nights/early mornings are becoming less "usual" for me in my recovery, I do have to say. Regardless, I still enjoy this space, on a very deep and intimate level, for what it's worth. Which is still a lot, to me.

Anyways, it's been a while since I have been here, I almost feel delinquent in my participation, and unworthy of posting, since I feel I should be here all the time for the sake of validity or something, I don't know, most likely that's my insecurity echoing around inside my head. I almost always feel as though I am not good enough, for ANYTHING, for one reason or another. Or that I don't do enough to deserve to be heard, or cared for. But that isn't even the real reason I am awake tonight, alone on SR Community.

It's really no surprise to me that I have already spent over 10 minutes typing and thinking on this post, dancing around the subject that brings me back around...ANGER. It's soooo hard to talk about, and even really understand for me. Maybe because more often than actually feeling that emotion, I feel something else. Anything else, really. Where the fuck is my rage, my very real, painful RAGE and ANGER? Why am I so resistant to conjure it, to feel it, to acknowledge, embrace and honor it? I am not so sure that I ever get really ANGRY. Even when I think I should.

More often, like this past evening in Group, I can't process, can't deal with anger. I watched my sisters doing healthy anger practices, I was witness to the beauty and raw expression of women I love and respect stepping through a door, making a conscious decision for change, for something greater. Embracing the strength and courage within. Screaming, crying, struggling, trying, denying only to find the strength to be forthcoming. Embracing the right to change their minds, trusting the process and allowing the women around them to hold space. To give them the energy, the love, the acceptance to commit to a scary, uncertain new reality. That it's ok. It's really just fucking ok just to be with whatever is there. Anything that's there, whether they had deemed it inappropriate or unjust, judgmental or selfish, or whatever else their psyche and all the world's weight may have caused them to labeled their anger. Because no matter what, none of it's bullshit, it's all very real. It's there for a reason. It deserves to be recognized.

And as much as this isn't the point at all, it's everything to me right now. Because in all this, I could feel no anger. I couldn't feel the fire. As the women who are my peers, who are my family, whom I love very much went through this process, one by one, passionately and whole heartedly, participated in this exercise, inspiring and encouraging one another to take the leap of faith by holding space, I held space as well. I wanted to go home so badly. As my sisters, one by one, let out their anger, their screams got more and more distant in my ears. And my heart beat faster and faster. And all I could do is cry silently to myself, the only sound coming from me my sniffles and my tears falling from my down turned face only to land on the cuff of my jeans.

And when it was my turn, when I was the only person left, I couldn't do it. I couldn't find anger. I couldn't even move. When my name was called, I found myself several feet from where I was originally sitting, I'd even left my bag behind, I'd unconsciously migrated toward the door. I probably could have reached the knob without even fully turning around. I couldn't commit, I could barely breathe, let alone speak. And when I did finally respond to being called, my voice sounded weak to my own ears, and I could feel every nerve in my body. And all I could say was that I wasn't going to do it. I would talk to my therapist in session about this, but I had no anger. And I didn't. Nor could I tap into or remember any anger. I couldn't even remember anything that makes or even has made me mad. NOTHING.

First and foremost, I want to acknowledge my main emotion in the heart of the moment. I was scared. Fucking terrified. When people get angry I don't want to be around. I don't feel safe. I feel attacked just to witness it. I'm fucking weak. I'm a big fucking baby. I hang my head, my shoulders slump, my spine grows weak. Grown ups aren't suppose to feel like that, respond like that, aren't suppose to run away. At the same time, I want to acknowledge that the entire time I witnessed what happened, I wanted to run away. I wanted to just get up and leave and it took every fucking ounce of strength to stay. Not because I didn't want to support my sisters, but simply out of terror. And it's not their fault. Of course. I really don't want to seem so fragile that anyone is reluctant to express anything they are going through around me. I want nothing more than to be a pillar for the women I care for to lean on. I want to say "It's ok! I'm STRONG! I can take it! Talk to me! I LOVE YOU!" Because I do love all of them, each and every one of them. And I want to be big, I want to be strong. Pleeeaaaaase!

Also, I felt sad. Maybe even more than I felt scared, I really don't know at this point. Sad to hear my amazing sisters say "I'm angry because I'm not beautiful." Sad to hear my friends say "Why doesn't anybody LOVE ME?" Because each of them, every one of them is fucking perfect. Even now, at 3:15 AM, almost 7 hours after group has ended, thinking about this has me in tears. I don't feel angry at all, not even for whatever has caused them, or even myself, to feel this way about themselves. I just feel heavy hearted, broken hearted, soooo fucking sad that anyone has to feel that way. It isn't right. It's not okay at all. I'm also disappointed in myself. Shouldn't I feel angry? For all that hurts, for anyone that hurts if I can't feel it for myself?

I don't know. I don't know anything. I just don't know. I just ran away, as soon as group was over. I just left I didn't say a word, I couldn't wait to get out the door and go home to the safety of my room, my own very controlled world. Where I can choose what to deal with. And in this very moment, I am choosing to acknowledge my lack of understanding, my disappointment in myself...And in my mind, I keep telling myself that as an adult in the United States of America, an adult who isn't court ordered to be in a recovery program, an adult who's at SR by choice, I have the right to exercise my free will. I have the RIGHT to say no! I don't WANT TO, and I won't!

But is that really serving me?

No....No it isn't, and I'm failing myself. I'm really trying to do the right thing, I'm really trying to show up for myself, for my recovery...But when will I really be able to do that 100%? And until that moment, am I wasting my time? Everyone else's time? I hate failing. I HATE FAILING! It displaces me, failure. It is sad, it hurts, it makes me feel sick. And I feel as though tonight I have failed.

About a Girl...A New Chapter

ORIGINALLY POSTED:  Monday, October 19, 2009
  

Sometimes I drink to stifle my feelings
I know it's wrong but I don't always wanna think about that
And more often I just don't care enough not to
Often I don't want to sit with what I feel
But I'm always I'm addicted to my shit
I never fail to get mad when someone tries to caretake me and take some responsibility for what I am going through
Because it's always mine
I'm very selfish like that
Sometimes the urge to smoke meth is almost unbearable
I always think that 15 years is long enough to have an addiction
But sometimes I don't care
And at the same time, I practice not committing to that desire
And I am sure that all of these things can exist at the same time
I always want to smoke a cigarette
But I'm also always trying to quit
I never buy cigarettes anymore
I know that's the first step
I always long for that special someone
But the desire's even stronger when I listen to music with a piano
And when I drink
And sometimes even when I am just sitting with myself
It's really always there
Such a strong feeling of need
Need to do something with myself that involves another
I find myself wondering why I haven't found that person yet
And then I remember.....I'm not fucking ready
But still I always want it
And sometimes I even cry for it
But more often I cry for myself
Not out of pity but out of relief
Even though sometimes I don't want to feel, I love knowing that I am alive
Sometimes I am shy
Yes, me, even I am shy
I am uncertain, I'm learning who I am
Without my best friend, my addiction, I am someone completely different than I have thought for so many years
I require a lot of patience
Sometimes I act out
I'm amazed to find that despite my immaturity and uncertainty, I am still loved
I feel selfish when I remember that I am loved but realize that I still want MORE
I often think of heartache past
And try to convince myself that it wasn't so bad
So that maybe if I call him, reconcile with him, I won't feel so lonely
Because it wasn't that bad....Was it?
It wasn't so bad it was unbearable....And then I wonder, What does that mean?
What does that say about me? I don't want to settle!
 I am weak!
And why am I so selfish to not be able to replace that unhealthy attention with the fullness and genuineness of what I am receiving now?
Because it's real. Can I accept what's real?
I have never known such a thing. Or if I have, I have dismissed it as boring and unfulfilling
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I know there is potential, but I grow weary
Comfort in immediate gratification
Even when it's really not gratifying but at least I knew what to expect
I hate to be let down
I have low standards
But I'm trying to raise them!
Everyday, even when I don't do the right thing sometimes, I'm always thinking of change
Evolution
I'm always thinking of someday
But trying to be present today
Be conscious in my body
It's so hard to live in the moment when the moment sucks
I often want to fast forward to the day when I am who I want to be
But when I think of it I remember that if I could do that
I wouldn't appreciate any of it
Because what is the future worth
Without the pilgrimage to the mecca
And who the hell is it that I want to really be?!
I don't even know that yet
I am guilty of not valuing things that are simply handed to me
I am guilty of taking advantage of ease
I am guilty of not loving myself
So how can I love anyone else
I am guilty of knowing all these things but still expecting more
I am guilty of insanity
I am guilty of lying
More to myself than to others, but what's worse when it all comes down to it?
And are those 2 things really different?
I have relapsed on coke
I have relapsed on alcohol
I have relapsed on marijuana
I have have even run to men
I have committed to doing things I know are not good for me
Sometimes I eat fast food
That in itself is terrible since I preach organic whole foods
I am a hypocrite
I am not as strong as I try to convince others and myself that I  am
I love yoga but I refuse to do it
Same with dance
I am lazy
I am mostly honest
Or at least I try to be
And I try to accept and understand my own discrepancies
I'm always working on that one
The longer I sit with who I am the more that shit comes up
But...Bottom line...I am just me
Trying to work to the best I can be
It's fucking hard goddammit.

Clarity

FIRST POSTED:  Tuesday, April 15, 2008 

Sometimes, yes, even now, after all the years of insanity via repeated behavior, I learn things the hard way. Important things. It's never a small thing that I end up coming to terms with through these incidences, and usually it ends up a painful lesson, going in the direction I absolutely DIDN'T want it to go. Valuable life lessons. Oooooohhhhhhhh....Bah.

I took a big fat leap off the wagon into a giant puddle of clarity last week. I thought, why not? It's just for fun, not something I'll return to regularly, everything in moderation. A time and place for everything. But I was wrong. It wasn't the time. I didn't enjoy it. And I realized it right away. It didn't turn out like I thought it would, but I did get to think about what I had done, why I had done it, and how I felt about it a lot. Which was one good result of my bad decision.

I realized that when I am fulfilling that desire within myself, I am actually taking so much of myself away. It's a pretty selfish thing, when all these years I have considered myself fairly selfless. What I couldn't see before, when I was in my comfort zone, which was nonstop, was that when I was in that space that I reserved only for myself, I wasn't capable of being even half of the person that I am when I am out of that space. I am robbing humanity of.....Well, really now, who knows just what. Because even I, after so many years of this shit, am not sure what I am truly capable of accomplishing.

I have always thought I am a kind person, the type of girl that would help anyone out if they only asked, sometimes even if they hadn't said a word but just needed it, and yet other times when it would just accommodate them and I had it in me to put forth the effort. I've always tried to go out of my way to contribute to the positive side of humanity, I've always tried to grow flowers. I realized that this is great, it's nice. But what if I had been at 100% instead of a mere 50% at most?

I just realized that although all these years weren't wasted energy and effort, they were, however, a great deal of wasted time. Time I could have used to achieve so much more. I see my little flowers growing around me....Yay! But damn. I wish that instead of a collection of potted plants, I had a prairie infected with the uncontrollable spread of wildflowers. Who knows what could have been, but it makes me excited to see what will be.

The real wake up call here was when my guy asked me how my wagon ride had been going. And I told him I'd jumped off. Just for a minute! I can catch up! He already knew. He was disappointed, after being so patient and encouraging, I hadn't fallen, I'd jumped. Why? Because I'd wanted to. And as a result, I wasn't my normal affectionate, sweet, positive self. I couldn't give him what he deserved, which was 100% of me. Instead, he got a distracted, shifty, distraught me. I shouldn't have seen him that day. But in my selfish-ness, I put me first, and didn't even consider him.

What he said to me was this, something no one's ever said to me before. And it sealed the deal. He said, in a nutshell, that he wanted to fall in love with a sweet, happy midwest girl. The REAL me. Not someone that wouldn't look him in the eye, kiss him, be there with him. Damn, was I confused. After so many years, I thought this WAS me. Soooooooo wrong. And for the first time, for the FIRST TIME, I found clarity. Right when I landed, head first, in a river of it. I had already realized it, I had found it and embraced it within myself, but now I was being baptized in it, held under the surface, feeling helpless and uncertain.

Why had I not seen this before? Why had I avoided it, ignored it, despised it, rejected it? Because I had WANTED to. No wonder karma hadn't been on my side for such a long time. It's almost cruel, like giving the world a taste of my candy soul, only a taste, and then taking it away. Have I been selfless? I would like to think. But I cannot lie. What a horrible thing to deprive the world, my world. Me. How can I live and not give all of me?

I wasn't living. I was just being. And I was wrong.

XXI Days Deep

ORIGINALLY POSTED:   Thursday, April 03, 2008      

XXI Days Deep.....Twenty0ne Days Deep.....21 Days Deep.....Saturday the 29th of March I was XXI Days Deep. I’d been waiting almost 3 weeks, waiting for those 20 days and nights to pass, for the morning light of the 21st day to greet my waking, searching eyes. It meant so much to me, so much that at midnight the night before, I branded my left wrist with a simple affirmation. A band I had made that said "<3XXI<3<3DAYS<3<3DEEP<3." There was no doubt in my mind that I could make it to the 21st day. Past the 21st day.

But since they say it takes 21 days to break a habit, I had somehow mentally attached the hope that some things would magically change at the end of the 21st day. Maybe after the 21st day I would start to realize other ways to overcome creative roadblocks, perhaps I would magically start to sleep better. Perhaps when I would suffer from anxiety I would think of different solution to it first, instead of automatically yearning for the one thing, the only thing that, for so many years, almost half of my life, was the only thing I felt I could turn to. It was always there. It was always reliable. It was my best friend, my lover, my family, ME.

So many aspects of my existence had relied on it, I had given so much of my life, of myself to it. For a long time, until recently, I had not put any thought into life outside of that space, to the point that I was always there, every day, my favorite place, the one spot where I’ve always felt safe. And happy.

Happiness is a powerful thing. Everyone wants to be happy, and when we can’t find it within, we find it without. With no regard to reality, with negligence to humanity, because I know, that I, for one, maintained that space just for me. Living constantly in that space provided for me, when I couldn’t provide for myself, and I became dependent on that. It was easier to get the quick fix than to struggle toward the long term solution. And I knew that, I didn’t care. When you don’t care for yourself you can’t care for anyone else. Negligence toward humanity is irresponsible. Not loving yourself is the only sin. This is not happiness. Just immediate gratification.

20 days and nights of doubt. When anxiety would strike, I had nothing to fall back on, I had to work hard to fill the void, to be ok. I knew I was ready for this when I talked myself down the first time. If I can find a new space, fill that void and quiet my thoughts, focus on something else, something positive, I can beat this. DO SOMETHING! Get out of the house, out of my room. Into the sun. Play! For once, think about tomorrow, and the next day. Life’s worth living!

20 days and nights of building. Talk. Plan. Make real goals I intend on reaching and start working toward them NOW! Focus! There are so many things I want to do, so many things I want to accomplish. Am I not worth it? Are my dreams not worth achieving? All that we have is the future, everything in everyday is a building block, a tool that will help me get there. Work! The most valuable things in life are the things we work hardest for. Time is short, MOVE!

20 days and nights of making my own happiness. That’s right. Making my own. Happiness doesn’t just happen, and it doesn’t come from someone else. DO something, anything, but love it! Find joy in the little things, smile at the simple things.....Smile at myself. I started finding it easier to do these things, very quickly, once I accepted that it’s easy. It’s easy to love me, and it’s easy to love life. Revel in it, it’s a fleeting thing.

Those 20 days and nights were hard. I had to do it on my own, all alone. Sure, I had support, friends and loved ones that encouraged me, and let me know that they were proud and there behind me. But, no one held my hand. It was Just me, Jamie, all on my own. Sleepless nights spent wondering if it would ever feel better. But it already did. And it does, every day more, and more. There’s nothing better than being ok just being you, and loving it. Loving it through the hardest times, the anxiety, the creative roadblocks. The sleepless nights. The loneliness. Yeah, I was lonely, for the old me. But I realized my own love for me. And I am never alone. I am one. Those days are gone.

The morning of the 22nd day came, and I rolled over, sat up, and as I was kneeling over my boyfriend, looking down at him, coaxing him out of sleep with a smile, genuinely happy, loving eyes and a soft, sweet good morning voice, a slight movement near my left hand caught my eye. My personal reminder, "<3XXI<3<3DAYS<3<3DEEP<3" had fallen onto the sheets. It had not merely come undone and fallen off, it had broken. It had broken and left me. It’s over, it’s over. At least the angst I felt waiting to make it past 21 days is over.

And with that, I can happily continue to evolve, metamorphosing like a caterpillar inside her cocoon. All the pieces of my life like the segments of the caterpillar, changing, growing into something new. Something more. I like it inside my chrysalis, it’s safe and warm. But I am anxious for the day to come.....When I’ll crawl out of my little shell into the sunlight, and for the first time spread my wings, wings I’ve waited for all my life. To feel the warmth of the world on my new skin, to allow the wind to sweep me up and take me where it will. I’m ready to fly.