Derelict

I thought I’d take a minute to check in on my utter failure, trash heap of a blog, to once again throw my thoughts into the void, where they can be kept safe from an eternal death. Oh no, I’d much rather prefer they be kept here in limbo, preserved perfectly for no one to see. I’m not even sure what the URL for this site is anymore since my business plan subscription expired, and the likelihood of me coming up with the money to purchase my old domain is somewhere between my ass and the municipal sewers. Let’s be honest though, that domain name sucked balls anyways. So we won’t mention it ever again, but for the time being keep the name Breakaway to serve as a gut wrenching reminder of yet another failed endeavor. Go me!

In other news, it turns out that my military service allows me to enjoy other benefits aside from deeply troubling mental scars, an inability to emotionally connect with other people, and a free meal at Chili’s once a year- I get to use the VA’s ER whenever the need shall arise; and in my case the need has definitely arose. For quite some time now, I have used every excuse in the book- and some new ones- to justify my addiction. In my core, as lifeless as it is, I can no longer lie to myself. As it turns out, I can’t enjoy any kind of success in the conventional way- stable finances, healthy and long lasting friendship, being a good example and source of wisdom/guidance for my daughter, keeping a regularly scheduled bowel movement*- while I’m living this exhausting and treacherous lifestyle, more attractive and suitable for scoundrels than the typical family man. If you take one thing away from this mass of grammatically mistaken words, please know that there is no judgement here. If anything, I am jealous of those who can comfortably shed their material possessions to enjoy a sense of contentment many will go entire lifetimes without knowing. It is a grueling lifestyle, to be sure, but not without some rewards.

Now you’re probably thinking Oh, you mean to tell me you can’t be a junkie and Dad of year simultaneously?! Get the mayor on the phone, he must be informed of this at once! I don’t care if he is signing a bill which will end poverty, crime, and disease forever, this guy’s got a hot tip with Nobel prize written all over it- but we need to act fast before this information falls into the wrong hands! God help us if our enemies crack this code before we inform the proper channels. But as unnecessarily long as that last deviation from the current topic was, it still served to illustrate an important point: I am an idiot, and everything I say should be taken with a grain of salt.

What I’m actually getting at here is that I am going to the ER at the VA to start a medically assisted detox that has been long, long…. long overdue. My veins are trashed, my appearance would allow me to be a serious contender for Faces of Meth, my credibility jumped screaming out the window like it was on a burning bus, and my overall motivation to do things in general is shoddy at best. I’m struggling to find the will to even finish this blog post. I’m curious if it will even be seen by another human being.

At any rate I just wanted to publicly dismiss this wretched cretin I’ve become hopefully forever. This fiend has held me in its clutches long enough, so it’s time to break free- or breakaway as it were, ha ha- and get my fucking life back. I miss being genuinely happy, I miss my diligent work ethic, I miss having money and material possessions, I miss being reliable, I miss making a promise and being able to keep it, I miss hanging out with normal people, and most of all I miss my wife and daughter. Yes, I currently still see them every day, but I’m either too busy hustling or being in a stupor to actually enjoy the subtle nuances which comprise our unique relationship.

So aside from the looming threat of imprisonment, I now have also stated my intent to achieve and maintain sobriety in front of … well, I don’t really know if one person will read this, or a few dozen, but let’s just say for the sake of my well being that I’m announcing this “publicly”. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I wrote that. So that’s that, folks, I’m hoping my next post will be written as the real me, stone-cold sober, personal flaws and all. As numerous as my personality defects are as the sober me, they pale in comparison to this asshole I’ve become.


*If you didn’t know already, H and opioids in general can cause excruciating constipation. Knowing is half the battle, kids.

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Optimizing my Freedom

So as many addicts do, I have been fighting sobriety tooth and nail at great length much to everyone’s bewilderment. I know there are like a billion articles on the benefits of sobriety, and they serve a purpose for those who wish live that type of normal lifestyle. By any logical sentiment, I cannot argue against living a clean, psychoactive substance-free lifestyle. That is the natural way to travel this journey- which is inherently difficult without adding layers of complexity that most reasonable people deem unnecessary. Many even assign the notion of immorality to the use of mind altering substances. Honestly, I can’t fault those who think that way because for years in the US we’ve been propagandized to adhere to that line of thinking. Also, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t a host of addicts out there who wouldn’t hesitate to step on your well-being to get their next fix. I would argue that there are just as many addicts that respect others and maintain a code of morality such that they don’t try to make their addiction anyone else’s problem. Conversely, I think it’s safe to say that there is a proportionally similar size of the population who do not use any substances, who would just as soon disregard others’ rights to benefit themselves. I have witnessed such actions time and time again throughout my career supporting that case by observing ass-kissers and pyschopaths excel in the workplace at the expense of others. That’s people doing what they do, unfortunately; often we don’t need any outside motivation other than those incentives which manifest naturally to inflict damage on one another.

My purpose here isn’t to justify the use of drugs, but to explain one facet of the addict’s rationale. What am I, some sort of an expert? You might say that, rabbit, you might.

First of all, I just don’t like being told what to do. Have I sacrificed nearly all of my financial success to live by that principle? Yes… but what is money anyways? A carrot that is dangled before us in portion-controlled doses, ultimately used by those in power to manipulate us peons into building their legacy while we act as an expendable resource? I am a pretty accommodating dude, willing to help my fellow man (and even woman) to a reasonable extent within my capabilities; but when other humans are deliberately trying to manipulate my values, or believe they “own” me because of some wack precedent established with no input nor agreement from me, that’s where I start to fall out of line. Maybe some person or group of people a thousand miles away from me think I shouldn’t be allowed to poison myself in a very specific way- yet allow other arguably worse and more socially problematic methods to plague society- but I never agreed to those ludicrous conditions. I think it unjust that one would charge other humans with enforcing their beliefs and declare that they have imaginary powers over those who disagree with their will. What makes those powers “official”? Can I form a gang and start making declarations of law pertaining to personal life decisions of all the people living within the abstract borders of a geographical area? Does anyone else understand how absolutely fucking asinine that sounds!?

Yes, I know that’s an over-simplification of the issue, but at its core, that is the heart of the issue, and why I oppose the precedent that’s been status quo for too long. One person can’t make a change when the argument is for getting high; but when the argument is to quit wasting our nation’s pooled taxes on imprisoning a large portion of the population who made a choice not in adherence with “officially prescribed” bullshit guidelines- then that argument starts to make sense.

Then again I could just be some asshole trying to justify his own use.

Another Day… No Dollar Though

That’s right, another day of existence is added to the growing collection of days which will be forgotten and meaningless. I have nearly lost my “Mojo”, or if it isn’t gone already, it’s on life support in the ICU, being cared for by Dr. Kevorkian. I’m having a hard time seeing the glass as being half full lately, because I’m seriously struggling with doing anything more than existing. I have been on/off with maintaining sobriety- which considering my circumstances, is pretty fucking commendable, I’d say. To elaborate, my significant other has kinda picked up one of my nasty habits, and fucking took off with it on her own, at a speed that has more or less surpassed my usage. So there’s one thing that I can etch into my legacy’s stone tablet of significant life accomplishments: pusher of addictive and dangerous substances, and sharer of misery. My point is that it’s damn near impossible to quit anything addictive, if the person you’re living with has the same habit. So I suppose it’s the circle of life, or poetic justice, or fucking whatever that I would afflict that curse on a loved one, only to have it come back and gingerly goose me while I’m trying to get my ish together! If I had a nickel for every time karma shot me with its painfully righteous darts, I’d still only have about a half dozen nickels. Yeah, I’m not a bad guy who goes around screwing people over, but when I fuck somebody without the lube, it will most assuredly come back later to fuck me unmercifully, harder, and with even less lube.

All metaphorical sex acts aside, I am fighting with the vigor comparable to Ben Stein’s voice to get my life back on track. Sure there isn’t much enthusiasm there, but I am droning through at a flat, continuous pace, slowly and painfully making it through the day and looking back to say “at least I didn’t off myself”. For some that may not seem worth writing in a blog that few will even read, but these days I try to celebrate even the most pitiful of deeds (or ‘non-deeds’ as it were), because what else do I really have?

I would like to believe that my worst years are behind me- but honestly I would probably being doing myself a disservice, as they could be much worse. I’m kind of hoping to at least keep this streak sub-mediocrity, anti-accomplishment behavior going just a bit longer. As long as nobody expects anything of me, I will not disappoint!

No More!

Let’s be honest, nobody reads this shit. If this blog was worth reading, I would be making more than 3 cents a month in ad “revenue”. So that means I need to go back to the drawing board. Looking back on these blog posts, I get it. I mean if I can barely stomach my own wallowing in despair, I shouldn’t expect anyone else to be on the brink of climax while perusing through this heap of hedge clippings.

It’s time to finally give this site a purpose, and it’s amazing that it only took me 3 days of being mostly sober to fucking get the nerve up to kick this site in the balls and make it something worth seeing. That’s right, the logic there is that in order for something to be “worth seeing” as I put it, it must first be kicked in the genitals. Now I’m illusrating the absurdity of my own logic. I’m gonna stop this here, before I get stuck in a contradicting logic loop, but just know that this site is going to get a renovation soon!

I’ll archive these posts and maybe keep em around, if they are of any possible benefit to someone. I’m hitting the reset button on this one.

Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don’t

At one point I decided that it would be in my best interests to have my freedom restricted, so I am not tempted by the evils constantly lurking the shadows of this Valley. This puts me in somewhat of a pickle for a few reasons. First of all, few things are so quick to throw me into a rage as being told I can or can’t do something that I am legally within my rights to do. It is like being grounded as an adult. That shit was irritating when I was a kid, but now that I’ve paid taxes, been married, had a child of my own, been deployed to a combat zone two times, witnessed things that no one should ever have to see, done things that will leave mental scars I’m unsure will ever completely heal, then yeah I would say a little bit of resentment is creeping through my soul so deeply that I can taste the anger on the back of my tongue like fuckin hot, bitter, battery acid. Rage would be a bit of an understatement in this scenario- let’s just say it upsets me to the point of me needing to walk away before I do or say something I’ll regret.

Nevertheless, I did invite this kind of restriction upon myself- sort of. I thought it would be nice to take a little break from everything and everyone so that I could take another shot at this whole sobriety thing which has become somewhat of a distant memory which haunts me from time to time in a way that I can only describe as terrifying. The symbiot that has sunk its roots deep into my being has become as natural as breathing, but is frowned upon by all my loved ones unfortunately. Society itself has even put a metaphorical pistol up to my temple, telling me I need to let this thing go, and let it go now, or there are going to be some very unpleasant consequences. Consequences which ironically enough, are often worse than those which would come about as a result of my addiction. You see how that works? Our society has deemed something unacceptable, so it devises a punishment which all but labels you a pariah and sweeps you into the gutter.

The war on drugs, right? Sure, but who uses the drugs? They aren’t really using themselves, so shouldn’t it really be called the ‘War on people who use drugs’. That’s right, if you are affiliated with or use drugs not approved by pharmaceutical companies, you are an enemy of the state and will be treated as a war criminal.

Kinda sucks that a country would declare war on its own people like that. What a great place to live.

Putting it Back Together

Jesus Christ, what a mess.

I’m on day four (?) of sobriety, and I forgot how miserable this is. Yeah, there are things that can distract me for a few minutes- sex, TV, video games, food; but it passes so quickly. Then I’m left with myself again. It is so much easier to get that needle in my vein and just push that magical substance up my brain and experience happiness in the blink of an eye. It’s so much easier than working for it. Judge me if you want, but if you’ve had a taste of it, then you know what I’m talking about. I think that I’m just like anyone else, I just want to be happy. Getting high makes me happy. The hardest part about sobriety is I will never forget what that feels like. I can never “untaste” that feeling. As long as I’m alive, it’s always going to be screaming at me, trying to pull me back towards it’s grip. I would do anything just to feel it one more time, but I can’t. The state says I can’t, my wife says I can’t, my family says I can’t, and without words, or even any willful sentiment, my daughter says I can’t. That’s the hardest one. I have let my daughter down for so long because I’ve been so selfish. I’ve been slowly committing suicide (so I’ve been told) with these needles, and putting myself closer to the grave just so I can experience happiness forbidden by logic. It doesn’t make sense to any rational person- why the fuck would you shove a disgusting needle in your arm? Are you trying to kill yourself? Don’t you want to live to see tomorrow?

Nobody understands unless you’ve done it, so if nothing else, just know that ignorance is bliss. I guess you could take that several different ways in this context. This is so hard, but I’m doing it for my daughter. My life has all but fallen apart, so I guess it’s time to stop fucking around and fix this mess I’ve created.