Cole Carrington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burninginside) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-01-31 07:16 pm
burninginside) wrote in muserevival2014-01-31 07:16 pm
054.2. Private diary
"When you feel like quitting, think about why you started." - Anon
Today was the first day I began to feel better physically, and it was also the hardest day in a sense that feeling well meant I had less cockblocking my reason to stay here. Feeling better had me thinking maybe I didn't need this place at all and I very seriously contemplated checking myself out. Thankfully a group therapy session made me realise what a stupid fucking idea that was, and also relieved this place doesn't allow internet access or any route to contact loved ones on the outside. Apparently most rehab places don't. Learn something new every day, and I learnt how much of a quitter I would be tempted to be if I had the access to ways to do it. Give a man an inch, and he'll take a mile and all that. First chance I would have had, I would have been online telling Des to come get me.
Of course, she would have told me to go fuck myself and stick my dick in a blender, but the point is, I would have tried it. Then probably would have gotten pissed off as all fuck and landed myself right back at square one. I've realised I don't like square one. I've realised that square one is the hardest fucking place to be because it gives you the easiest means to keep fucking up. I don't want to keep fucking up. I want to get better, and I want to have a shot at love again. At happiness. At living.
So, instead of losing my shit, I inwardly threw a bitch tantrum and took the seat in group therapy furthest away from the counsellor and sat there with my arms crossed, basically glaring at everyone because that was a whole lot of pathetic emo in one room. But I noticed an interesting dynamic of Yin and Yang going on. There were those addicts who wanted to talk, and those who didn't. Those who did, you could barely shut up, and those who didn't - me, Mr Halitosis two seats away, Miss More Boobs than Dolly Parton, and Emo Goth Twink beside me with black hair, black nails, black eyeliner, black fucking everything - sat there and shut the fuck up quietly analysing those talking and probably deciding nothing would turn us into one of The Talkers.
My patience isn't the best right now. The cravings are all I can think about. I'm constantly sweating and my hands won't stop shaking. Plus, the relentless stomach cramps, but without the projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhoea, I am actually feeling on the upward curve, and fuck it, I'm proud of myself for making it this far. When one of The Talkers got up and said that, she had my full attention because I wasn't sure if I was proud of myself at that point. So at least I did manage to take something away from the group therapy session other than wondering if Emo Goth Twink realised that he smelled oddly like mothballs and fighting the urge to ask him if he did.
Listening to The Talkers, though, I realised one thing - I'm seriously fucking common. There's nothing special about what I'm going through, beyond the fact that maybe my reason for ending up here was different to everyone else. But substance addiction, all the tricks of the trade, the excuses, the fuck ups, the messes, the failures, they're almost as common assholes. I didn't think I was special, not by a long shot. More just that I was drowned so deeply in my drug and booze soaked haze that I forgot about the rest of the world and stopped caring about it. The shit turned me into a waste of space with no worth to the world, and that right there was the most sobering point that hit me today.
I have one life, and mine had become a waste of space. I made myself no more important than the pickle on the Big Mac everyone turfs before eating it, or a shit by a dog in Central Park, scooped up and chucked in the nearest trash can. I was the discarded trash of the world, and for that reason, I can't quit this. If I do, I may as well just walk out in front of the nearest bus and be done with it. What is a life if it's not worth living? That's been a hard lesson to face, and I'm glad it's sooner, rather than too late.
Cole Carrington
( original character )
Today was the first day I began to feel better physically, and it was also the hardest day in a sense that feeling well meant I had less cockblocking my reason to stay here. Feeling better had me thinking maybe I didn't need this place at all and I very seriously contemplated checking myself out. Thankfully a group therapy session made me realise what a stupid fucking idea that was, and also relieved this place doesn't allow internet access or any route to contact loved ones on the outside. Apparently most rehab places don't. Learn something new every day, and I learnt how much of a quitter I would be tempted to be if I had the access to ways to do it. Give a man an inch, and he'll take a mile and all that. First chance I would have had, I would have been online telling Des to come get me.
Of course, she would have told me to go fuck myself and stick my dick in a blender, but the point is, I would have tried it. Then probably would have gotten pissed off as all fuck and landed myself right back at square one. I've realised I don't like square one. I've realised that square one is the hardest fucking place to be because it gives you the easiest means to keep fucking up. I don't want to keep fucking up. I want to get better, and I want to have a shot at love again. At happiness. At living.
So, instead of losing my shit, I inwardly threw a bitch tantrum and took the seat in group therapy furthest away from the counsellor and sat there with my arms crossed, basically glaring at everyone because that was a whole lot of pathetic emo in one room. But I noticed an interesting dynamic of Yin and Yang going on. There were those addicts who wanted to talk, and those who didn't. Those who did, you could barely shut up, and those who didn't - me, Mr Halitosis two seats away, Miss More Boobs than Dolly Parton, and Emo Goth Twink beside me with black hair, black nails, black eyeliner, black fucking everything - sat there and shut the fuck up quietly analysing those talking and probably deciding nothing would turn us into one of The Talkers.
My patience isn't the best right now. The cravings are all I can think about. I'm constantly sweating and my hands won't stop shaking. Plus, the relentless stomach cramps, but without the projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhoea, I am actually feeling on the upward curve, and fuck it, I'm proud of myself for making it this far. When one of The Talkers got up and said that, she had my full attention because I wasn't sure if I was proud of myself at that point. So at least I did manage to take something away from the group therapy session other than wondering if Emo Goth Twink realised that he smelled oddly like mothballs and fighting the urge to ask him if he did.
Listening to The Talkers, though, I realised one thing - I'm seriously fucking common. There's nothing special about what I'm going through, beyond the fact that maybe my reason for ending up here was different to everyone else. But substance addiction, all the tricks of the trade, the excuses, the fuck ups, the messes, the failures, they're almost as common assholes. I didn't think I was special, not by a long shot. More just that I was drowned so deeply in my drug and booze soaked haze that I forgot about the rest of the world and stopped caring about it. The shit turned me into a waste of space with no worth to the world, and that right there was the most sobering point that hit me today.
I have one life, and mine had become a waste of space. I made myself no more important than the pickle on the Big Mac everyone turfs before eating it, or a shit by a dog in Central Park, scooped up and chucked in the nearest trash can. I was the discarded trash of the world, and for that reason, I can't quit this. If I do, I may as well just walk out in front of the nearest bus and be done with it. What is a life if it's not worth living? That's been a hard lesson to face, and I'm glad it's sooner, rather than too late.
( original character )