Well, I have to say, today was a good day. At the beginning of the quarter, I ended up with a really terrible parking spot, so at every tuesday, my teacher drives me to my car after class. We talk about my book, grad school, whatever, and tonight she offered (I didn't say a word about it) to write me a letter of recommendation for my grad school applications! I love her. Her name is Theo Nestor and her blog is http://writingismydrink.com/. She is great! I feel so blessed to have this amazing teacher in my life and to have the money and opportunity to take this class. It is helping me so much. I always connect more with instructors than students--why is that? I can't call myself super smart or anything, I can't call myself a dummy either. I don't know what it is, I just feel safer with my teachers than my colleagues. But I feel so humbled that she just offered to write me a recommendation without any prompt. I know my goal here is to stop letting others dictate my worth and feelings, but still, it means a lot to me, and I think that is allowed. It's not like she decided whether or not I am worthy as a writer, but she reinforces my belief that this is what I am supposed to do. I plan to read her book over the break because 1.) I'm curious, 2.) It is respectful since she's reading my work and helping me with it, 3.) I'd like to know more about her as a person and a writer. Today was a good day for me. I feel grateful to be free of confining relationships, and able to pursue my calling, and even more so, I am grateful to finally acknowledge my calling, to fully give in to its power and accept that I am destined to be a writer, and to believe that one day I will be a good one.

Today was very good for me as far as therapy goes. it has helped me to reshape my memoir in a way that seems to fit better than what I had originally planned. It took me half an hour to write one paragraph, but I think it has the potentional to turn into a good jumping off point for my story.

To write memoir:

Start with a bit of musing, present the problem, report what you found out, and then tell the entire story of how you got there, followed by the internal shift that occurred as a result.

My rough forward or first paragraph:

           I’ve always looked for someone or something to show me the way. I never believed in God, but I’ve had no problem making a person my higher power. When I first decided to write this memoir, I had planned to write about abusive relationships and my final escape from a man that almost certainly would’ve killed me had I stayed. I thought men were my problem. My relationships with men over the years have been enmeshed, volatile, isolating, and abusive, so it would’ve been easy for me to say. However, unhealthy relationships have abounded throughout my life. From parents to teachers to bosses to girlfriends to substances to groups, I made each of them my God. I believed that if I followed them and did exactly as they said that they would provide me with all the love and happiness I couldn’t give myself. I depended on them to tell me how to live, who to be, and what I’m worth. Typical of someone who depends on others to act as director of her life, I also blamed them when I could no longer rely on them. I ran from one to another, always believing that the next one would finally make me whole. After writing out two thorough outlines for a memoir and finding that neither one seemed right, after recounting all of the painful experiences and false hopes I held about others, I realize there is one definite, undeniable common thread weaving through the fabric of my life; me.

After about five months of experimentation with controlled drinking, I have decided I am indeed still an alcoholic. It started as just a half a glass of wine, then one glass, then two, occasionally a whole bottle and a few benzos, stealing my Dad's fentanyl patches and perks, smoking weed, and having a general desire to get more, drink more, check out of reality. But then I always wake up the next morning feeling guilty and hungover, even if nothing bad happened, which it hasn't. There have been a few negative consequences, affecting mainly me. I called in sick to work one day when I really just had a hangover. I got drunk and ate so much food that I made myself vomit. Those are the main things, but I think it's just creating a sense of general sadness in me. I am more depressed, less interested or able to do things. I get hangovers so easily that even one glass of wine will leave me feeling like shit the next day. Not to mention all the extra calories. And I'm down to 113 lbs now, so I don't want to sabotage that. I told HAM the other day that I am drinking alcoholically and stealing pills and drinking alone, because I don't want it to be a secret. I need someone who loves me to know that I am headed down that same ugly path. I haven't taken anything or had a drink in two days now, but I don't want to go back to AA. I was hurt too much by those people and I don't ever want to see any of them again. So I have to do it on my own, and honestly, I don't know if it's too late or if I'm OK to just stop and not care. I have a feeling the compulsion will return, although it hasn't yet. I still feel happy that I'm not drinking right now, even though it's almost nine at night, a time where I would like to have a glass of wine. I want to be a healthy, happy person, and using substances will not help me achieve those goals. I am desperate to get out of this life as a happy, successful person, not a fucked up loser. I just have to make a commitment to love myself enough to stop drinking and taking pills. I am going to be taking "The Art of Living" part 1 course on breathing this December. I was reluctant at first, but I decided, with a little discussion with HAM that I should just try it. It was created by Ravi Shankar. Mabye I can finally reconnect with some type of spirituality, maybe try yoga again. I need to fucking relax. Pills and booze are only temporary fixes and they will not help me grow or change, and in the long run, they perpetuate greater chaos in my life and hinder relaxation. I want to have the energy to work out five of six days a week, and this week (I do have a cold) I have only been once. I have continued to eat pretty healthy (minus the binges) and I think my diet has actually improved quite a bit over the last few months, so that's one bright spot, as well as my memoir writing class. I wish that class was every day. God, I just want to get into grad school. Getting fucked up certainly won't help with that, I already found out in 2006. I want my life to get better. I don't wanna die, spiritually, emotionally, or physically. I want to get better.

"My life is going to change. I can feel it." - Raymond Carver, Fat

I look around the chaos of my room, my car, my relationships, and
my life and I think, if I can’t write about this, then I’m just fucked up. I was
born, I was fucked up, and eventually, dead. Why can’t I get my shit together?
Why am I such a mess, inside and out? I look around at the stacks of paper,
piles of clothes, old half-drunk water bottles, and plastic bags, and I get
overwhelmed, so I do nothing. And I look inside, and I see my mind, filled with
anxiety, obsessions, compulsions, disorders, and depression, and I am
overwhelmed by that, too. How can I ever clean up my life? What if I don’t ever
get into grad school or become a writer? I don’t want to live and die having
done nothing but create a mess for others to clean up. If I died today, that’s
what would happen. I can’t sleep. I feel sad and angry and combative and lonely.
Writing is my only solace because when I write, it means I have a bit of hope
left, that maybe I will live to see the day that my life is put in print for all
to see, making meaning of it, analyzing it, critiquing it as if it were nothing
more than a literary work. I wouldn’t mind my life so much if someone benefitted
from it. Existing would seem more worthwhile.

_CREEP - RADIOHEAD

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell I'm doing here?
I don't belong here

She's running out the door
She's running out
She runs runs runs

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here