The Aftermath
Ok, I believe in honesty. Honesty with yourself, honesty with others, all that good stuff. So, what do you do when honesty isn't pretty. Well guys, here goes my shot at the therapy everyone has recomended. I guess if I want to run for offiice someday I might as well lay some stuff out on the table as I am sure I will have an opponent who will have a hayday with all of my drama. It's not like I don't live my life as an open book anyway.
I'm struggling. Have been for awhile now. See, placing my daughter for adoption last summer has left this hole in my soul that just won't seem to heal. I know with time our wounds are supposed to scab over and begin to hurt a little less, but this has become a festering wound full of infection and toxins and a lot of heartache.
I started popping Vicadin and Hydrocodone the first day I got home from the hospital. The physical pain was minimal to say the least, but my heart was so heavy that it felt as though it might actually drop out of my body and onto the floor if I didn't do something. For those of you who know "cutters", that's the principal. There is a pain running so deep that it seems to create a mass under the surface of smiles and "I'm OK's" that has to be drained. Hence cutting. Well, the pills did a similiar thing. They made this wave of calm flow through the aching agony of my broken heart, and I could function. I started back to work 2 1/2 weeks after her birth and school started roughly a month later. Initially, as the industry goes, everyone asked me about my daughter as I had worked up to the 9th month. Kinda hard to keep it a secret when you waddle from bottle to bottle. Most people were supportive, some were assholes. I knew that would happen as I had already lost some close friends over the justation duration. I was 28, who places a child for adoption at that age? And, she was biracial. I never thought twice about it and assumed that those closest to me wouldn't either, but this whole scenario showed how racism is alive and well in America. Just figured since I surround myself with some pretty amazing and diverse people this wouldn't be an issue. Needless to say, I had to make a few cuts on the friend circle.
Saying everyday what had happened was like getting socked in the gut 50 times a day. I pulled on my smile suit and agreed to the maturity of the decision I had made and how I knew she would be so well taken care of and loved, but on the inside I wilted. More pills. I realized I could smile through the most invasive and painful conversations as long as I could keep a steady stream of pills coming. And Jager. The scary part is that I didn't become some dopey, drunk, watered down version of me, I became normal Dejenerate. Just like before that pregnancy test stared back at me at 5am on a Sunday morning. I was maintaining and smiling.
And I was rocking school. I don't think I slept more than 2 hrs any given night and sometimes not for days last August through December. And, after being a meth addict for nearly 10 yrs, my logic was that if I wasn't all doped up on street drugs and I wasn't coming apart at the seams (You know the addict's story: O.D.'s, jail, general craziness...been there, done that.) this was fine. I found the best antidepressant in the world. Fuck Zoloft and Prozac and Lexapro, this was the fixer-upper I needed.
Cut to present day. It's catching up with me. Maybe it's because her Birthday is rapidly approaching. Maybe it's because of Mothers' Day being on display. Maybe it's the fact that Baby's Daddy will be here soon and he thinks this is just something that happened that is over now. But I'm struggling. I eat Darvocet and Percocet and Vicadin like candy and wash it down with a shot or two. I am doing so well. I am on top of things at my new job and am finally a manager after so many years of trying. I am on my way to making NYU a reality. I have the most awesome, supportive friends around me. I am doing good finacially. And every night I get in my car and drive around town in circles because I can't go home to the place that I should have been able to make into a home. I eat pills for breakfast just so I'll get out of bed and quit crying. And then I smile all day. I am a ticking timebomb right now and I know it. And now, so does the rest of the world.
I'm struggling. Have been for awhile now. See, placing my daughter for adoption last summer has left this hole in my soul that just won't seem to heal. I know with time our wounds are supposed to scab over and begin to hurt a little less, but this has become a festering wound full of infection and toxins and a lot of heartache.
I started popping Vicadin and Hydrocodone the first day I got home from the hospital. The physical pain was minimal to say the least, but my heart was so heavy that it felt as though it might actually drop out of my body and onto the floor if I didn't do something. For those of you who know "cutters", that's the principal. There is a pain running so deep that it seems to create a mass under the surface of smiles and "I'm OK's" that has to be drained. Hence cutting. Well, the pills did a similiar thing. They made this wave of calm flow through the aching agony of my broken heart, and I could function. I started back to work 2 1/2 weeks after her birth and school started roughly a month later. Initially, as the industry goes, everyone asked me about my daughter as I had worked up to the 9th month. Kinda hard to keep it a secret when you waddle from bottle to bottle. Most people were supportive, some were assholes. I knew that would happen as I had already lost some close friends over the justation duration. I was 28, who places a child for adoption at that age? And, she was biracial. I never thought twice about it and assumed that those closest to me wouldn't either, but this whole scenario showed how racism is alive and well in America. Just figured since I surround myself with some pretty amazing and diverse people this wouldn't be an issue. Needless to say, I had to make a few cuts on the friend circle.
Saying everyday what had happened was like getting socked in the gut 50 times a day. I pulled on my smile suit and agreed to the maturity of the decision I had made and how I knew she would be so well taken care of and loved, but on the inside I wilted. More pills. I realized I could smile through the most invasive and painful conversations as long as I could keep a steady stream of pills coming. And Jager. The scary part is that I didn't become some dopey, drunk, watered down version of me, I became normal Dejenerate. Just like before that pregnancy test stared back at me at 5am on a Sunday morning. I was maintaining and smiling.
And I was rocking school. I don't think I slept more than 2 hrs any given night and sometimes not for days last August through December. And, after being a meth addict for nearly 10 yrs, my logic was that if I wasn't all doped up on street drugs and I wasn't coming apart at the seams (You know the addict's story: O.D.'s, jail, general craziness...been there, done that.) this was fine. I found the best antidepressant in the world. Fuck Zoloft and Prozac and Lexapro, this was the fixer-upper I needed.
Cut to present day. It's catching up with me. Maybe it's because her Birthday is rapidly approaching. Maybe it's because of Mothers' Day being on display. Maybe it's the fact that Baby's Daddy will be here soon and he thinks this is just something that happened that is over now. But I'm struggling. I eat Darvocet and Percocet and Vicadin like candy and wash it down with a shot or two. I am doing so well. I am on top of things at my new job and am finally a manager after so many years of trying. I am on my way to making NYU a reality. I have the most awesome, supportive friends around me. I am doing good finacially. And every night I get in my car and drive around town in circles because I can't go home to the place that I should have been able to make into a home. I eat pills for breakfast just so I'll get out of bed and quit crying. And then I smile all day. I am a ticking timebomb right now and I know it. And now, so does the rest of the world.
posted by Dejenerate @ 1:50 PM
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