#what was a lifelong looming fear that gave me such bad anxiety i would be sent home from school in literally second grade has only been fed

[crashed-on-mars]

can all of you shut up for literally five fucking seconds please

[rumncoca]

R & the Family (15)

It wasn’t the last time though. We continued the late night trysts. One time while I was on top of him, he breathlessly gasped that we should do this more often. I heartily agreed with a playful laugh. I was relieved to hear that.  Everything always felt so natural with him. And I wanted this to last as long as it could. I had a feeling in the back of mind we wouldn’t have this opportunity for longer than 3 years, or maybe even ever again and it haunted me. This felt like a way to make up for a looming dark future that we weren’t yet privy to.

Afterwards we delved into our nightly discussions. I admitted to him that when I learned that I would be trapped here indefinitely I sought out heroin again. I told him that it took everything in me not to ask him. He thanked me and agreed that it was for the best because he knew where to get it. I awkwardly chuckled to avoid asking him where exactly that would be.

The next night we went on an adventure to find a fabled witch in the city nearby. In between supernatural jokes we tested the waters and became more open about our longing and measured reservation towards our shared Achilles heel, heroin. We had a clean night that included R screaming at the sight of a racoon and the two of us running through an orchard.

Then next day we pursued a tip about a cemetery that his coworker had given him. It was youthful and silly and we had a blast. It reminded us of a when we had breakfast in a cemetery our graduating year, and how serene and whole everything had felt that morning. I couldn’t believe that he had felt that inner peace too. We went to his mom’s to show her our findings and she humored us. We then left to pursue our investigation further when he turned to me and said that we should hit up one of our old brothers for heroin.

I tried to resist jumping on the idea. I tried to seem hesitant and to mask my emotions to gauge his sureness. After all, I was a hypocrite for telling him not to, and at the same time I had simultaneous devious personal interest. We made the drive to a nearby city, mentally wringing our hands the whole way, with R chiming in periodically to say that it probably wouldn’t happen anyway.

I saw our effeminate, skinny jeans clad, lisped friend of our glory days for the first time since we were 17. He was unrecognizable in his hardened eyes, loose clothing and face tattoos. I guess prison and being an active gang member to that a boy, even our boy. He asked us what we wanted, his eyes darting from recently overdoing the meth use, and R told him we were in search of boi but would take some ice on the side. Our friend disappeared into the night and came back holding. We left in silence that evolved into nervous pressured statements about how we would and wouldn’t use our new stash. R vowed unconvincingly that he probably wouldn’t do anything of the heroin anyway.

And R did resist the heroin. We took some tweak together and had a fun night of exchanging playlists in his garage. I mellowed out a couple levels on H. My head lulled to the side listen to him play guitar and sing. I woke up in the morning after spending the world between sleep and wakefulness living a series of imagined scenarios.

One shook me to the core. I had seen my dead grandmother furiously scowling at me. Her still-living husband was next to her with his hands in the air, frustrated and trying to calm her. My father was next to the river as well, in the most pain that I had ever seen him, crying and looking over to the distant bank. He fell to his knees and I turned to my younger brother who asked if he could get some help for his ever-present anxiety. I handed him the bag of meth and told him not to hit too much. He thanked me and began to walk away when I realized the grave mistake that I had made. I had accidentally handed him the heroin. He collapsed, uttering a couple confused words and I began to scream and sprint begging for help. There was no one around, and I realized that’s why the rest of my family had been hurting so. I woke up sweating with a deep fear that this was some kind of symbol for one of my metaphorical brothers, R. I checked my phone and he had texted me worrying that I had overdosed too. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and railed some more H before leaving my room to confront the world for the day.

I sat around trying to make plans with a girlfriend in the dusty strips of sunlight pouring in through the window. I tried hard to seem normal. To seem engaged when my father talked to me, and to get up and move every so often so that I didn’t nod out sitting up. My father kept commenting on the television and it pissed me off; couldn’t he see that I was trying to enjoy my high? I remembered a week before when R told me that it wasn’t normal to be mean on heroin, that it was strange that only we did that.

Finally I went to my friend’s. I asked her if she wanted to go up or down and pulled out my holographic Glossier case that contained one small bag and one lighter-sealed cellophane bag. She did some meth and eventually asked if I had what she thought in the cellophane. I admitted my transgression. Nearly 3 years ago, when I was first using, she came over to my house on the 4th of July and I passed out mid-conversation. She was unable to wake me and held a certain disdain for heroin ever since.

Later in the night I asked her again if she wanted to go up or down. She said down. I gave her a very conservative bump of H and knew, past thick layers of drugs, highs, and feelings, that I should or would feel bad about sharing it. We alternated the 2 with her until we were kayaking in the bright new sun, at one point topless. It felt like glory, like perfect unadulterated serenity, especially when fulfilling my lifelong dream of feeling the sunlight on my chest. Going home it took all my power to not fall asleep at the wheel. I stayed awake because no matter my state, the commercial van in front of me was so much worse, repeatedly crossing the double yellow line. At home I collapsed on the couch, a surging tingling heat in every limb. I lived a couple of dream lives and missed a phone call from my work.

The wanted me to come back. Panic set in and I took some fat rails to squelch the icy fear of impending reality. 

[tamerajedwards]

MORNING BLOG 6-28-20 (It’s long but it’s my page and my party 🎈 so if you have time you can read my blog. Thanks!)

Sometimes I wonder do I post too much? Do I write too much? Do I reveal too much? Should I pull back? Hold it in? People make fun of me for my weaknesses like health anxiety, growing older, being somewhat OCD yet those people give plenty of leeway to others and their disparities and causes. Why isn’t there room for me too? Room to be accepted just AS I AM. In our weaknesses God is strong and we can be made strong and whole. I am a writer and that’s just what I do yet I live in fear of being ridiculed and UNACCEPTED.

I believe COVID 19 is creating PTSD in millions of people right before our eyes. I’ve been denying it..since the moment it hit I lost both of my jobs, it took 6 weeks for me to get any unemployment and soon that will end too, so I buried myself in the sewing machine creating masks to help myself and others who do believe Covid is real and taking lives. It has created and anger and fear in me that I try to suppress. I’m angry because so many people don’t take mask wearing seriously. They are full of pride, embarrassed to cover up to run to the store, thinking they are being CONTROLLED by the government, yet so inconsiderate of people who could die from something we do no have a vaccine for. Do people not understand what it’s like to go to bed each night wondering if they have contracted the virus because half the people in the grocery store aren’t wearing masks and stood behind you not social distancing and you can’t practically FEEL THEIR BREATH ON YOUR NECK? I will not be controlled by fear because JESUS tells us not to fear. But this pandemic is REAL!!

I find myself not wanting to vote this fall because I’m disgusted by Trumps pride and unwillingness to wear a mask in public. I never thought I would say he makes me angry, but he does right now. Lead by example please! And I’m disgusted by the monuments being torn down. If it didn’t bother you for decades before then why now? And I will be with first to say it—> ALL LIVES MATTER!! Not just blacks! So quit singling them out!! We should always love them and treat them right they are equals in this world 🌎. I’m sick or rebranding products! You never said anything before, why now?!! I don’t want to vote for anyone who supports abortion period! But at times Democrats have some great points along the way. I give credit where credit is due. Bottom line I align myself with Jesus Christ and His word. I just had to post my thoughts on this.

In our humanness we can feel frail and the MIND IS POWERFUL. More powerful than the body. It actually controls the body. My mind is strong and overly analytical. So much so that I am inside my head TOO MUCH!

When I was at my primary doctor office the other day we were discussing my lifelong problem with health anxiety. Something I believe happened to me somewhere along the line in my life. We aren’t sure when. A lot has happened to me that a counselor at one point was trying to unpack with me. I could have developed it in early childhood, or when I was held up at gunpoint in El Salvador 🇸🇻 on a missions trip, or many other things. I can’t pin point it. But I have circular obsessive thoughts that don’t allow me to get out of my own way and just enjoy my life. I create a diversion such as sewing, writing music, just anything to not get into the circular thought pattern that can cripple us. My doctor feels for me and empathizes with me. She offered my anti depressants again. Once again I refused them. Asked if I had Xanax. I said yes, “You gave me some last November, and I still haven’t opened the bottle... I’m afraid of pills.” I told her that I did use some CBD OIL from time to time. She told me to dive into a good book, a fantasy book. I said, “Believe me! I’d love ❤️ to be involved in a fantasy. That would be just the cure!” Ha!

My whole life has been uprooted. I’ll afraid to go to the gym and I really need to feel endorphins in my body again. I need to feel whole. I’m afraid someone on a treadmill will breathe in my face. My newly diagnosed asthma makes me afraid to feel uncomfortable with my breathing when breathing isn’t light and easy like it used to be. Once again fear and circular thinking trap me. What a bad place to be. I miss going to church. But I don’t miss judgment. I always felt judged for not being able to be myself. How sad.

So what led me to this post??? I wake up feeling like I’ve never slept. I don’t spring out of bed like years ago. I wake up hot 🥵.. tired...dizzy..groggy... thinking oh ya Covid is still here...like a black cloud looming over. And if I can just make it into the shower 🚿 and let that hot steamy water hit my shoulders I can start a new day! A day in which I will try to conquer my thoughts, stay in the battle, we are at war whether you believe it or not. The enemy is within. We have to fight the devil who has cleverly fought his way into America and the world through Covid, racism, and managing to divide us through differences instead of similarities. Our minds MUST CONTROL THIS BATTLE!

You are not alone my friend. I will be the first to point out my weaknesses, my NEED FOR GOD EVERY MOMENT OF THE DAY AND EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE. You all know my strengths and you have yours too, but I wanted you to know my weaknesses too.

In our weaknesses HE IS MADE STRONG 🙏❤️ we will be strong too. Stay in the battle. I’m with you and I’m praying 🙏 for you! I covet your prayers as well. Xo T