I'ts the beginning of the what...

It's the end of the second week and I feel great! I know it sounds lame and childish or as if I'm trying to portray complex emotions through a 150 character text, (lol) but it has been rough, and where I would have liked to be able to write something for everyday I just haven't been able to do so. Mostly due to the stress it gives me to sit down and write about how I was wrong, and how the way I feel now is way better than tumbling through life at the whimsy of a lilted notion that I could do everything fucked up better than I could sober.

So... it's been great...

This would be considered the second week. There have been dreams like I haven't had since I was sober, of course. Well, I dream that I am sitting on the couch when i stick my hand into the pocket of my jeans. it's then that I find I have hidden a few pills in my pocket. I can't even stop myself from taking them and then I wake up. Of course i'm pissed, firstly, because it was only three pills and not even worth it!? then it sets in that I am going to be thinking about it for the next few days. Boooo. After running yesterday I feel better though. I just can't stop being on the go or I think about it. weird how the first week was easier. Now I find myself thinking about how to get to walmart and return something and combine that with some change I have, to get pills on the other side of town. All on a pair of rollerskates. It sounds stupid but it sounds like something I would do. If not for being afraid to look like a complete idiot on skates it would have happened by now. And I haven't called anyone because they all know what I've been going through and I don't feel that I owe anyone an explanation. they wouldn't have given me one. But it's just funny how people will continue to poke and jab at one while they are trying to change their life.

First Few Days

This was going to be a series starting with 'day one' but I'll leave that to my personal journal, however I do feel like telling a bit of what I am going through. It's been almost twenty nine years since I was born and about fifteen of those I lived with addiction. Lived with, ha. That's a joke, more like fought with and hated, loved, then hated again. Well, anyway, I just recently, finally, was in a position to be able to pull out all my own stops and end the incessant using. In reality, I wrote my roommates a letter that explained everything I could never actually say out loud about myself. And it helped that I had pretty much been at rock bottom for a few months. I told them every detail they would need to know or do in order for me to not fall back into my old ways. A guideline to how my brain works and then I gave them permission to used what they know. Seeing as how I am living in their house with out a job or any other place to go I thought, "hey, maybe this will work."

So, it's been about three actual days without anything but pot and I have to say I feel better now than I did two days ago. I was pissed, hated that I had given them the ability to see into how I actually work. Without a car or money I was a sitting duck destined to be roasted. Without my pills I was destined to find out what life was really like again. The second day was better and since I can't do the drugs my body is craving I'm actually eating again... that didn't take long. I mean, I hate to say it but I've kind of made the situation fold out the way I have hoped for. At almost thirty, I'm not going to get this chance again, guarantee.

So, when I woke up on the third day and my first thought was toward how good I felt, at this point I had begun working out too and my body was completely sore, you can imagine how I wondered that I could move on from this place and time with a new life ahead of me and plenty to see. I have hope that I can imagine a dreamy life and actually achieve it.