With Love from Lufkin

Tomorrow I start training for my new position as Manager at the Cookie Company. Although a minor accomplishment, I am very proud because I've worked my ASS off for those guys all through the holidays. I've never been a manager, and I'm fairly excited. I finally feel like I've reached something--whatever it is I've been working towards. I STILL need to finish my Relapse Prevention Plan. I know, I know...I just want to be resolute when I actually do make it, and Cold Feet have become an issue. It just seems like a huge step and it's kinda scary. I think I'll make it in my own time.

I got two dozen roses from Austin for Christmas. They are beautiful.

Beautiful.

I love him. I miss him. I think 2008 will be a good year for us.

(that's obviously not the correct date)

Christmas was cool. I shot skeet for the first time, with a 12-gauge. I'd never shot a gun before. I missed my first shot, but hit every one of the rest. 4 of 5 shots. I made the guys jealous.

I love that.

In case any of ya'll have ever wondered where in the hell it is I live, I now have something of an explanation, thanks to a certain Mr. Tom Hanks and a particular Ms. Julia Roberts. I imagine you've heard of the new movie Charlie Wilson's War. Charlie Wilson is a politician from Texas, not only from Texas, but from my very own small, deep East Texas town of Lufkin. Not only from my hometown, the aforementioned Mr. Wilson actually lived in my neighborhood of Brookhollow, down the street. Represent!

Thank God I didn't see any ex-boyfriends (this means you Gingerfish) here in

L-Town, which is always a perilous feat during the holidays. Although they're not quite over yet. I'll be for damned sure keeping my fingers crossed.

Jam for the Day: Big Girls Don't Cry by Fergie

Santa Baby

This is my picture-gift to Austin in Rehab. He's not allowed to have a proper Christmas with gifts and such. I remember what that was like, so I can't let my baby feel unloved this year. I miss him terribly.

So I did this at the Mall on my lunch break. HoHoHo.

Otherwise, I think the Big Yellow Sign speaks for Itself.

Jam for the Day: Blue Christmas by Elvis Presley

To My Future Mother-In-Law

Dear Sheryl,

I am so sorry I haven't been in touch with you. I pray you don't take this personally, and I sincerely hope you know that I simply ADORE you and your family. You know I love your son. Please don't think I havn't felt guilty about not calling you. I know I already told you about my issue with other people's mothers from situations in my past. And after staying with you and going to see Austin together I really felt like I had gotten over that. And I had! But now, I'm realizing it's a much, much, deeper problem. I know you think you went through one of the most dismal family situations, and I know you did, but as nuclear as my family may be, mine is perhaps more tragic. My family doesn't know how to be a family. Not at all. And we are one! We are not close, and go for months without seeing or speaking to each other sometimes. As hard as it is for me to feel like part of a real family, a close family, it's even harder for me to feel like part of someone else's family. And being in what I feel is the lowest part of my bipolar cycle, I just procrastinate and procrastinate until surprise! it's been two weeks--months sometimes. It's also been an interesting experience becoming engaged and realizing how much that changes things and how much I have to change to meet the challenge. That on top of this rehab thing and being so far away from Austin keep me fairly stressed out. I hope you understand. I will call you sometime this week and we'll talk.

I love you Sheryl, and could never ask for more in you...

Love,

Blush

Thanks Giving

My uncle Bob, Myself, My aunt Karen

Goofing off with my brother Sam

Clay, Blush, Sam, Carissa, Cailey, and Danica.

Also Known As: The Cousins

Me and Clay. Goofing off runs in the family, apparently.

The chicks in my family are beautiful.

Oh and there's Sam in back to support us!

Down The Rabbit Hole (Just Ask Alice)

Hey kids! I've been bored. On Halloween at work we dressed up as Alice In Wonderland because kids trick-or-treat in our small town mall on Halloween. So I worked baking cookies and giving them to kids as Alice, pictured right. (Blush as Alice, Meredith as the White Rabbit, Jenae as the Queen of Hearts, and Alex as The Mad Hatter. The results were fairly trippy. Me as a Blonde!) As I was making my costume I thought, I am getting too old for this...but the end result was enough to tip the scales into the fun-after-all column. The Boss is sending our photo into the Corporate office in Atlanta.
Austin is away. He is in rehab at this hardcore place in Central Texas. I rarely get to talk to him, though I did see him recently for a short visit. I spent the night with his mother and rode up there with her and then back to College Station to meet my own mother and get back home. He is 5 hours away from here, his mom lives about halfway in a small town called La Grange, Texas. So you see the difficulty for me in getting to and fro without a car. It was so worth it when I looked into his eyes and in an instant remembered why I wear this man's ring. He held my hand and apologized. I am proud of him regardless. I've done the same stupid things for the same stupid reasons. The warmth of his hands was the warmth of my best friend's hands and I knew I loved him. Regardless.
I was very nervous to spend so much time alone with my future mother-in-law, but she just loves me for some reason and I love her back. We got pedicures and ate out and had a wonderful time. She even likes Bright Eyes so we jammed in the car. She is an awesome lady. Given all circumstance, he looked good when we saw him; I think his short stint in county jail, this place, and his recent conversion to Christianity will straighten him up, and I am really much more nervous about my own fate.
After I finish my Relapse Prevention Plan, I will be discharged from my own outpatient rehab program. It's been a rocky road for me here in ye olde hometown, and living at home like I did as a teenager can be a bit overwhelming. I find myself in a constant identity crisis. This is a ghost town of sorts. Last weekend at the mall I saw an old friend from high school, a close one even, that I hadn't seen in ages. I missed her wedding. She has twins now. It's all so surreal. I feel the need to get out of here but I don't have the means yet. I've finally found a good way to get my bipolar medication for free from the manufacturer because I can't afford insurance on the cookie girl's salary.
Insurance. Speaking of, I've made a friend, Misty, through outpatient whose family owns an Insurance Agency here in town. Her brother is the manager. She's been working for them since she's come home and told me that she's about to get her own license and she wants me to be her assistant! This job would be a dream come true. Fuck minimum wage man. As much as I like making cookies and decorating cakes, fuck minimum wage. Plus, the Insurance Store seems like the premier place to work for people desperate for insurance, like myself. So I'm preparing my resume, in hopes that after the beginning of the year, I'll have a career change. And I adore this girl--she is just so awesome, and in recovery, and I think we'd be great friends. And she wants to give me a job where I'll never have to dress up for Halloween at work again. I may have fallen down the rabbit hole this year, but I'm thinking, just maybe, there's a light at the end of that dark tunnel. And it's looking like it might just be a bright one.

The Prodigal Daughter: I'm Not Dead Yet

I've been to church twice this week. We're having autumn Revival at my small East Texas Baptist church. We had a Black preacher come preach for us and he was AWESOME. I adore Black preachers. I don't know what it is but they keep it real and truly "bring it." And I needed it to be brought, desperately. On Tuesday he preached about being shackled. He did the whole sermon in handcuffs as a literal illustration of those things in life that hold us back. He spoke about addiction and fear--it was as if he were speaking straight to me. He spoke of grudges and forgiveness. Sometimes the only way to break the shackles of hatred is to forgive the hated. This struck me somewhat deeply. A few days ago I cried out in no uncertain terms that I was very angry with the people that sexually molested me as a small child. What you must understand about this situation is that these were people I didn't know--female daycare workers--and that my childish brain repressed all memory of the incident, although it was a big deal and the cops were involved and everything. I always felt there was something wrong with me, and that I wasn't good--but I never knew why. Until I was 18 years old. That's when my mother told me the whole story. It was so surreal. Something you never think could happen to you already did. It took me a few years to really come to terms with it because with no memory it was just a story about my past self. I finally came to grips with the reality of what happened when I had a memory through clinical hypnotherapy. It was the best day of my life, because for the first time, it was real. It wasn't just ME that was inherently wrong...someone hurt me and took that away from me. What I remember most in the memory I did have in my subconscious was the fear. The incredible terror. Like falling out of a plane or going downslope on a roller coaster. I hadn't been able to forgive those people for doing that to me because I have no memory of who they are or anything. Nothing. I wouldn't recognize them if we ran into each other on the street. When the preacher started talking about forgiveness, I spontaneously choked up. It's those people still holding me back. It's those people I must forgive to finally be free of the shackles they put me in, for better or for worse. I knew what I had to do. At the end of the sermon, the preacher broke free from the handcuffs and tossed them to the side of the room. During the Invitation, I went to the altar and fell on my knees to pray. I prayed that God would help me forgive those people, so that I may break free from the chains I find myself in. Well that amongst other things. As I rose to retake my seat, I saw the handcuffs lying on the floor and stopped short. I looked at them hard. Without real knowledge of my actions, I picked them up and looked at them even harder. Slowly I turned around and carried them over to the altar of my Lord, and dropped them there for Him to take care of. I made my way back to the family pew with a satisfied smile on my face. God was the key. He always was and always will be. It was the first of many shackles to be broken.

That's Some Real Conversation For Your Ass

That's the best line from a rap song ever. It was funny when Dr. Dre said it, even funnier when Ben Folds sang it in harmony after going on for verse after verse of bitches, shit, hoes and tricks. It's on my mp3 player. It makes me laugh every damn time he says it. And oh it's not really as bad as I write about though it makes for good dramatics. It still sucks though. Although visiting "the country" is nice, I much prefer a more urban lifestyle. I'm telling you the country and the city are like night and day. I was born in the sprawling metropolis of Houston and lived there 10 years, where the city stretches as far as the eye can see, so it must be in my blood or something-- because just being here sometimes is like to make me die of restlessness. It's SLOW out here. And forget going incognito. I miss the great anonymity and spontaneity of the city. I do like making cookies, however. Really I do. I also decorate the cookie cakes, and that's always fun. Today I made 9/11 themed slices, an American Flag, an I heart NY one, and an FDNY chocolate and red icing. No wonder I have gotten fat. Ha! The mornings in the Mall are interesting, and totally different than the nights. You know how you hear middle-aged parents bitching about the punk-ass kids hanging out at the mall? ...Just give it 20 years and you'll be there too. Old people come just to hang out at our mall and talk to each other about the weather and shit.. Seriously. Just like the high school and jr. high kids do at nights. Only the old people come at 10 in the morning and are asleep by the time the oh-so-scary emo-goth-kids show up at the mall, ha. And I bake the cookies and serve Dr. Peppers for the people. It's really a nice concept for a job, I mean, I bake people cookies man. Everyone loves cookies and that kind of shit. So I'm happy to make them happy. You get to know all the people that work in the mall and that's cool too. I just wish "the cookie lady" made more money.

Yeah.

Doing Time On Earth

Last night I cried myself to sleep. This morning I cried before work. I feel so worthless, so unnecessary. I am perfectly miserable. Somedays are worse than others, but I need to know this is going to end. It must end, right?? I am so lonely without him. I do not fit into this town at all. Now I understand why Jr. High and High school posed such a challenge to me back then. I don't belong here. I never belonged here. Austin is the first place I've truly felt at home. It's strange. And to be so far away from what you love can kill a soul. (That's a double entendre.) I am so angry. Angry and sad is a bad combination for any addict. I want to know why god made me bipolar. I want to know why god let those awful people have sex with me when I was just a 4 year old baby. I want to know why, why, why! It makes me think he doesn't love me. Why couldn't he have made me normal so at least I had a chance? Add in the addiction and it's like I'm fucked. Doomed to mediocrity or worse. So tonight I am going to talk to my drug counselor Ms. Linda. I love her with all my heart. She is a long time Lufkinite who actually went to school with my uncle. She is a fine and wonderful Black Lady. There was much racial tension back then around East Texas, that my family actually got involved in (we were the good guys.) This is a story I think I shall relay sooner than later. Anyway she is awesome. I love her as much as I love Lois (my shrink) and I've known Ms. Linda for less than 6 months. I've been with Lois for more like 8 years. I love them both and consider them the best of friends. Ha. My shrink and my drug counselor are my best friends. Let's pretend that never happened, shall we? Anyway, Ms. Linda is moving to Dallas to be closer to her grandkids and I am so sad to see her go--I'm not done with this outpatient thing until November 1st. Since I work at the Cookie Company in the Mall, I made her a decorated cookie cake for her going away party. I am so proud of it, as it is the first one I've ever made and I'm so excited to give it to her. Don't worry about me in the aforementioned part of this mammoth paragraph, Ms. Linda will make it all better.

I look terrible in that picture; I had just gotten off work, baking cookies all day!

the poem on the cake says:
We're so sad to see you go
Because we love you Linda Jones!

White People Love to Say "Bling"

I know it's been a long time but not much has changed, not that anyone cares. I'm still struggling through this rehab thing, still living with my parents. I feel as if I should have some kind of degree in abnormal psychology by now but alas, I have nothing of the sort. I do have a job however. I am the head baker at the cookie store in my local mall. We only have one. I'm the novelty act on display for everyone at the fuckin Mall doing my thing for minimum wage, which actually makes me quite the popular person, as everyone wants a cookie. I see people that I went to high school with on a pretty regular basis. People I haven't seen in years and years. People whose names I forget until the moment they walk away. People whose respect I always wished to have, though I've never been quite sure why. Now I'm selling them cookies. At least I can still make their children smile.

Otherwise I hate the mall-people. Seething hatred that burns through my very veins, not unlike a drug. Everytime I see them I hate them more. I watch and I wonder at the market rabble and pray to God that I don't become one of them, though I fear it too late. I mean, I've been to the mall. I've been one of them. It's scary and it's true. It's scary because it's true. That's the nature of the beast, eh?

Austin is away for several months dealing with legal issues. I suppose that's the nature of that beast they like to call "addiction." Unfortunately, I have been there before, so I understand. My poor baby!

So I am all on my own these days. Well, me and the cast of Law and Order: SVU, which is by and far my favorite company kept. Detectives Stabler and Benson are fucking hardcore. And when there's predatory sex involved it's easy to despise the enemy. I always seem to somehow identify with the perps when there's only murder involved, like in other Law and Orders. I can just see how that was one fucked up situation. Maybe that's my inner anger. Probably. Or perhaps my never-quite-make-it-to-the-finish-line ethical situation mixed with compromised values, which makes watching the E! channel just that much more fun.

Boredom With a Pinch of Flattery

America, Fuck Yeah!

"Give me your tired,
your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside
the golden door!”

HAPPY FOUTH OF JULY TO ALL OF US!



Regardless of what you may believe, this is still the country that we love, and for many reasons. We live in a nation that believes in freedom. Freedom of religion, freedom of speech, personal freedom, as well as the freedom to change. For without that particular freedom, the United States of America wouldn't be what it is today. And thats why I love this country. We adapt, we change to fit the populous' needs. I could never live anywhere else. Today is a day to remember, however, that freedom isn't free. Many men, our fathers, grandfathers, and great- grandfathers, fought and many died so that we, You and I, might enjoy the freedom that our forefathers once only imagined. So thank a vet today. And don't forget those currently serving--for it is their sacrifice that makes us able to be the freest people on earth today. Thank someone for their service on this sacred day. Please don't take it for granted, because god help us, if we don't do our part, the beauty of that freedom we so enjoy could one day disappear like dust in the wind, and without our freedom, who would we be? Remember: Freedom isn't Free.

Crazy In Love

I love you with all my heart, Austin Cox. Please don't ever forget, even though we are apart right now. I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure you always feel it, because my love will be right with you, unfailing, forever and always. You are the light of my life and the light in my dark. Your smile melts my heart and makes my days. You mean so much more to me than you'll ever know. When we lived together, I fell in love with you every day, and continue to fall in love with you all over again every single day that passes. I fell in love with you all over again when I got to Dallas on Monday, at the movies on Tuesday, when you held me on Wednesday, yesterday at the Museum (and last night in bed, hehe) and then today as we said our temporary goodbyes--and I'm sure I will do the same tomorrow, and the next day, the next day, the day after that, and so on and so on. I hope you get the picture. I love you, I love you, I love you--one thousand times I love you. We are the only ones that can tear us apart, so I'll be handling everything with care, because I never want to be without you--you are my everything in this rotten world. Thank you for being so beautiful, your smile makes my life worth living.
I hope this was coherent...


Love Always--To Infinity and Beyond!

Blessed Assurance

Last night I made love. Love like never before. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.
Ecstatically.
For hours we were overtaken. I fell in love all over again. And again, and again.
We made love like armageddon and eternity rolled into one. We made love like there was no tomorrow, and no yesterday. We made love for the unknown, for the future.
For our future--together.
I've got a ring on my finger now to prove it. The most beautiful symbol and a constant reminder of why Life is worth the Living. Love.

He is The One.
He is the Man of my Dreams...
He is my Past, my Present, my Future.
He is my Gilbert Blythe and my Rhett Butler.
He is my Indiana Jones.
He is my Mr. Big.

Holy shit! We're getting married! Dreams really do come true. I am the future
Mrs. Austin Cox.

Strong Enough to Bend

It's been too long since I could bring myself to the keyboard. My treatment plan requires group therapy five days a week and it's pretty draining. I do realize at this juncture that it's not the end of the world as I described in my previous post, over a month ago. Although those feelings are valid and still quite at work in my mind and heart, I have become more accustomed to the changes around me. Turns out "Recovery" means that you have to change EVERYTHING in your life. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. Everything. I am not very happy with their declaration that once you're a drug addict, you're always a drug addict...
That fucking sucks.
However I have had some pretty good times during the past month. Group is not always terrible, and our preacher's missionary daughter and her FIVE kids came into town and I went to the zoo with them, where I took this jewel of a picture. Yes those turtles are doing it. Every time I see it I laugh. And I need things to laugh at, if only to keep me sane.
I am planning on attending class at Angelina College here before I leave.
Leave. Yes, I am leaving. I am living in a town full of ghosts and I've got to get the fuck out of here.
Austin and I have made a plan to make a new start in College Station next year. We are going back to school at Texas A&M University, where neither of us have very much left to finish. We made this decision when he came in to see me on Memorial Day weekend. We ate lunch, took a Sunday drive, and even rode the kid's train at the zoo. It was so romantic; me in my sundress, the bright blue of the sky and the deep green of The Pines--the children ran gleefully around us in the kind of setting only an antiquated watercolor painting could capture correctly. I look forward to many more of those times with Him. I am hoping to fly to Dallas for a week very soon.
He is The One. Really. When you Know, you just Know. It's Indescribable.

This is my ring. (check out the subtle but super cute heart setting!)

This is his ring. (sexy.)

Oh yeah, it's like that.

Hanging On in Quiet Desperation

Man oh man I hate this. I cannot describe to you the emotional distress I'm experiencing. I haven't wanted to talk about it because it's embarrassing and They make me talk about it. I hate Them. It's not Their fault, but I hate Them nonetheless. I also haven't wanted to talk about it because I've been made knowledgable to the fact that being a drug addict isn't so bad of a problem and I should quit whining until we find a cure for cancer and acheive world peace. So I shut the fuck up. I know there are more people with more problems than me and of course it makes me feel bad that I have a home and a warm bed and food to eat and I still don't want to wake up in the morning.

Apparently I am a drug addict of the highest caliber. I took a "test" today at outpatient rehab and they wanted to send me back to intensive, live-in rehab. Dammit I swear every time I tell the truth someone wants to institutionalize me. WHY? Aren't I good enough? No. Never will be.

I hate this place it is no longer my home.

I feel like there is nothing to look forward to. The people in Recovery say that feeling will go away. Bullshit. It's not going away yet. My spirit is dying. I have a very hard time relating to these people because for most of them being Sober is the only thing anyone has ever expected or hoped that they acheive. Not so for me. Being Sober is the least I could do for "them," comparatively. My cousin is competing to become Miss fucking Texas for god's sake. I mean what do you say at Thanksgiving?

"So what have you been doing???"

"Well, Rehab was a blast."

"Oh."

Yeah. Sucks. This is where I am. I just don't see it getting any better.

I feel so beat down. Having to tell these people the most embarrassing, horrible, shameful events of my life--having to rehash everything I've tried to distance myself from. I don't trust Them, any of Them. The wound is deep this time.

It's a selfish program.

When I hear myself telling Them this drug, that drug; this many years, that many years, I hear my own voice screaming back at me YOU'RE A FAILURE, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE.

I don't want to do it anymore. All I've ever wanted is to be normal. This is nowhere near normal.

It's more the ritual than the drug, anyway. That's where the real addiction lies.

Plus, everyone I know in Recovery is fat. I don't wanna be fat.

I've never been successful at anything I've done, except MAYBE drug addiction. I feel so shitty about myself I sometimes think maybe I should just do what I'm good at.

Probably not.

But god it hurts so much. I am having major physical reactions to these emotions. I haven't felt this bad in years. My chest hurts, I cant breathe, I get nauseous or just plain sick to my stomach. I am ill. I can literally feel my heart breaking sometimes.

I am mourning Myself.

In prison I learned this technique of turning off my emotions. I try to do it now and feel like I'm going to rip the next person that speaks out of turn to me into confetti. Rip them apart until they feel as bad as I do. Destroy them until they beg god to help them every night like I do.

You know what I think? I think They fucked me up. They make you tell everyone "I'm Blush and I'm an Addict" every time you speak. Well if I'm an Addict then what the fuck am I doing here? Why aren't I high? You know this would be much easier to deal with if I were. But you won't let me though you do make me believe I am something bad, ugly--evil. So I'm a drug addict. A worthless drug addict. If that is what I am, why am I here? Why do you want me to be part of society? Why do you want me to be alive? Why should I try?

These are the questions I need answered.

Sportsmanship

Last weekend Jeff Gordon, NASCAR driver #24, rewrote the record books.

Call him the king of repeat performance.

After winning Pheonix from pole position last Saturday night and tying the late Dale Earnhardt's no.6 all-time race-win record, he's done it again this Sunday. Starting from the pole today in Talladega, he led more laps than anyone, only to fall back in the pack towards the end, racing up to take the win in the last 5-6 laps. He's now taken that sixth most all-time wins record from Earnhardt Sr., and you can bet it's pissing people off. The wrong people, of course. It is a sad state of affairs when a racecar driver can win a race (or two in Gordon's case) fairly and squarely, and still be booed upon arrival or departure of the track. It's ridiculous. All because the fans that make all of us bitten by the NASCAR bug look ridiculous are pissed off because Jeff Gordon is just that damned good. Fucking smooth as hell. He's kept cool as a cucumber amidst all of this bullshit and only made those that ridicule the ridiculous ones. Even Earnhardt the Junior asked them to cut that shit out. Apparently the Earnhardt tradition is bigger than even the Earnhardts themselves now. So the ridiculous did their ridiculing and were consequently arrested for mocking the very same greatness they came to see that day, and come to see every race weekend. I'd be embarrassed to be the Earnhardts at this point. I mean I understand it's never been easy for a record-breaker (see Roger Maris) but don't we have this thing in The United States of America called SPORTSMANSHIP?

You know what I say to fans of such low caliber?

FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!

JEFF GORDON ROCKS YOUR FACE OFF!!

You're all just jealous because his baby mama is hotter than yours.

Hell yeah I said it. LOL!

28 Days

I'm Blush and I'm An Addict--

Today I'm grateful for:

Getting out of Rehab.

One day early.

Austin Cox.

All the crazy people I met;

And most of all,

Myself.

And Thank God for Dr. Pepper and cigarettes.

With that, I pass.

Rehab was a blast.

I'm so cool my realness is a testament to fakeness.

I'm back and better than ever.

Anger Directed Only At Myself

Forgive

Sounds good

Forget

I’m not sure I could

They say time heals everything

But I’m still waiting

I’m through with doubt

There’s nothing left for me to figure out

I paid a price

And I’ll keep paying

I’m not ready to make nice

I’m not ready to back down

I’m still mad as hell and I don’t have time to go round and round and round

It’s too late to make it right

I probably wouldn’t if I could

‘Cause I’m mad as hell

Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I know you said

Can’t you just get over it

It turned my whole world around

And I kind of like it

I’m not ready to make nice

I’m not ready to back down

I’m still mad as hell and I don’t have time to go round and round and round

It’s too late to make it right

I probably wouldn’t if I could

‘Cause I’m mad as hell

Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

Fear and Loathing in Lufkin, Texas

Today I am hurt. It has been pointed out to me that I make myself nothing but a victim. Well I suppose that's true. I'm a victim of myself. I fuck myself every time I turn around, and not in that good way. So now I have to face the consequences. I will probably find out exactly when to report to Rehab today. I am terrified. I am embarrassed. I am ashamed. I feel like I can't make it through this. I feel like I'm just not worth it. I'm a junkie, and nothing's gonna change that. It's just a lost cause. I'm a lost cause. Because in reality, I have accomplished nothing. I may speak otherwise but it's the awful truth. An awful lie. The only thing I'm good at is doing drugs and now they are taking that away from me. Leaving me with nothing. A huge consuming, sucking void. Sucking the life out of me. I have no talents. I write this although I don't know why. It only sounds whiny and boring. I used to think I was cool but I'm not. I'm just another loser junkie.
Nothing special about that.

Pre-Rehab Junkie

Blush and Her "Sister" Meagan in my old empty apartment

A teary-eyed Blush after picking up her old work hat.

It was so hard to walk out of that store.

Oh, the flash is too bright for my drug addicted eyes!
Ya'll know our kind only come out at night!

Ricky was so angry with me that I was going to miss our birthday celebration on March 11. He lectured me like he was my father or older brother.

It surprised the hell out of me. That's when I knew he really cared.

Your girl Blush, Lufkin, 2007

They Still Love Me!

Excerpts from My Life MakeGood Use of the word Fuck

Dearest Austin,
I missed talking to you last night...I went to bed really early, like at 8 o'clock, because I'm really bothered like I was telling you yesterday, but I'm not sure by what. Most of the time I feel like I could jump out of my skin. And for no real reason even! I can only hope that rehab makes me happier like it did James in the novel. (A Million Little Pieces) 'Cause he didnt seem like he was ever gonna like it. And I don't dislike it I just--it was like that time I got high by myself in our old apartment in Austin, I fully realized the depths of my own junkiedom. In doing so I've given up or something. I was so all about being sober. Now I'm not all about anything. I'm not even all about getting high. I would rather sleep through my life. The fact is, I am never comfortable, and most of the time I want to scream bloody murder. Though I think of Austin and if I were there, working at Chevron or Freebirds, I think I would feel much the same way. Although I know there my course of action would most definately be to get high about it. I am so depressed--I must just miss you so much I don't even know what's going on because I have never missed you before--you were always there. I don't know; it's just everything. I know I will not meet any new, cool, or fun people here. I have already been there and done that like 10 years ago. I know I have nothing to look forward to. Everything is so bleak. I don't feel like I have the strength or the power to make things happen like I used to, and I guess I know where god is but I dont like it. No I fucking hate it. I don't know if I can do it all again. Help me Baby! I don't know what to do.

Fuck.
I Love You,
Blush

NEW artwork! untitled as of yet

And For A Minute There,I Lost Myself--I Lost Myself

I went to Austin this weekend to say goodbye to the dearest of friends and to clean out my house and move back home. It was a trying weekend, to say the least. All I wanted to do were drugs because it all hurt so much. I had to explain to them all what I'd been up to the past few months, again and again so that everyone understood. I told them I loved them. I told them thank you for giving me the best time of my life. Seeing Ricky crying when I left the house broke my fucking heart. Because then I knew I had hurt the people that loved me--that I never realized. I've never thought of myself as a loveable person, and that was almost too much truth for my poor heart at the time. I, too, bawled--tears streaming--as we left Austin, and I watched the city disappear behind me in the rearview as we turned onto HWY290East. The way back home. But can you ever really go home again? I think not. My room is now a hodge-podge, mish-mash of my glorious high school years, my dim college years, and my happiest times in Austin. It's a roller-coaster of emotion just walking in there, I swear. Although I do think I'll get back to work on the mural I started on my four-panel closet door though. There's not even much left, although it's been what...8 years coming? Sigh. I am trying to be as close to god about this as possible, as this is by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Letting go. I went for broke and that's exactly where I've found myself again. I just don't see any other way to live my life. Regardless I find myself in shitty situations because of some immature ideology I learned in Eleventh Grade English class. Fuck prison, I'm scared to death of Rehab. Seeing the faces of my friends when I left them and leaving my life in Austin was/is the hardest thing I've ever done. Really. I moved to Austin with my last paycheck--not much--two suitcases, and a bus ticket. And look what I built. A home for myself and Dinah. I made every dream I ever had lying in my prison bed happen, only to destroy it all as well. I found my freedom there. I regained my love in that town. Love for myself, love for life, and love for the sake of love. Not to mention I fell in love in that town. Everyone wants me to come back but it scares me. I don't want to try anymore. I don't want to be anyone else's disappointment anymore. I don't want to have it all just to lose it again. My mother and my therapist believe otherwise. But I can't help but feel that I want to give up. When we left Austin, Texas, I felt I lost a part of myself. I made myself there. Where is my identity now? It's surely not here in my hometown of Lufkin. Hometown. That's a joke. This town has changed so much, socially AND physically, I barely even know it. So I am scared. I am depressed. I am everything negative in the world. I'm gonna try everything artistic that I know to fight it though. Because that's what I am. I can thank god at this point for only one thing: Thank you for making me a fighter.

Something To Look Forward To

I smelled springtime in the air for the first time today. Pollen, rebirth, and regeneration soon to follow. Rehabilitation. Sigh, I've done this all before. It's eerie, actually. Last time this happened it was February. I'm looking at the calendar and it looks like it's about that time once again. When this happened previously, Bright Eyes had just come out with two new albums. Again, their newest one is due out this April, with an EP out in just a few days. Hopefully this will inspire some kind of creativity in me. At some point this year I've got to create not one but two paintings that I'd been commissioned to do before life blew up in my face. This is of supreme importance. I haven't painted or drawn or put anything down visually in so many years I fear that I've lost whatever talent I had that produced my previous works of art. I'd decided back in jail to give up visual art for the written word because, let's face it, I'm no Picasso. At some point in life you've got to realize what your strong points are, real or imagined, and go with the real. But for some reason an awesome lady back in Austin wants me to paint for her. I'm super nervous about the endeavor--I'm no professional. Never had a serious art class, don't really know how to paint. I guess now's as good a time as any to learn, right?

First Grade

How am I going to do this? I don't know. I'll figure it out. God this year is going to suck. I'll be spending my 25th birthday in rehab. How did things get this way? Today I was dusting the house and found an old book my first grade teacher made me of stories I wrote back then, illustrated and all. I was pretty ambitious for a 6 year old; the spelling is the best thing I've seen in a long time. However, I found one particular story to be quite depressing--a story that's run through my mind more than once in the past few years. I was surprised to see it still existed, and I guess proves the wisdom of a child, even if they have no idea what they mean at the time.

"I hate drugs! No way! Drugs make you go outofcontrol! Drugs destroy your hart. And they make your brain go outofcontrol! People use drugs becoes they thank it's good for you. But it isin't very good for you. If you take drugs you are making a big mustake. Cigarettes are disgusting! Wisky is disgusting, too! So Say No to Drugs!!!"

Is it okay if I cry a little now??

I Laughed Out Loud

Fox News is the greatest channel on the planet. Not to be taken seriously, of course. Not that they take themselves seriously. Anna Nicole rules my world. A girl can't have too many baby-daddies, I mean really. And I could just kiss Britney Spears on the lips. She made rehab cool in an instant, so it seems that I'm right on time.
Maybe I'll shave my head...

Maybe not.

So I was looking up shit about rehab last night since I don't know anything but what I learned from the school of hard-knocks. All the shit they tell you in rehab I already know. It doesn't take a genius to pull a Nancy Reagan and Just Say No. But you'd think it does since the 12-steppers' success rate is like 5%. Then I found this:

Before rehabilitation programs began people recovered from alcoholism and other compulsive and obsessive behaviors. It is important to understand the difference between recovery and recovering. Individuals involved in conventional treatment do not believe that people can ever be free of the obsession to drink or drug. Before treatment existed this was not the case. Past programs promoted recovery or the idea that a person can be who they were before they ever drank or drugged. We teach people that they can be even more than that. The foremost psychiatrist of the 20th century, Dr. Carl Jung, spoke of alcoholics recovering through a "vital spiritual experience" which he described as "huge emotional displacements and rearrangements." Experts like Dr. Jung did not understand these recoveries, but certainly knew of them and thought of them as anomalies. Nonetheless and in the absence of scientific understanding, Dr. Jung and others tried to bring about these "huge emotional displacements and rearrangements" to help alcoholics recover. Dr. Jung reported that some of his patients did recover using these methods, but he had never been successful with anyone who had the "mind of a chronic alcoholic [or drug addict]."

Thank you, Mr. Jung. You're a goddamned genius. I guess I am too, then, because this is what I've always believed, and you've only proved me right. Apparently the ONE center in the country with this ideology has a sixty-fucking-five percent success rate. Wait, isn't that 1, 2...13 times better than EVERY other place in the country??

Hrmm.

You see what they tell you in rehab I just can't buy. If I haven't done drugs in a year, how am I a drug addict? Shit I haven't done drugs in a week, and I'm not a drug addict. That would imply that I'm addicted to a drug. Well I haven't had any withdrawal symptoms since Saturday. So explain to me how I'm addicted to a drug. I'll never understand, and I'll never be okay with that label. I refuse to be "in recovery" for the next 20 years. I have better things to do with my time.

This is what happened to my Austin, poor baby. When someone tells you something enough times you start to believe it. Remember the blonde chick in class who everyone said was a whore? She probably started putting out only after her virginity was stripped from her mind. This is crucial, because she let it be. The only way to change a behavior is to change your mind first. I have no prediliction towards the needle anymore. You see I changed my mind. No I wouldn't mind getting high. If you think about it, who would? Come on. Well it's not worth it. And my mind tells me that so guess what? I'm not doing drugs and have no real desire to. And you'd think a heroin addict--barely a week off it even--wouldn't be able to do that. At least that's what they tell you. Don't ever trust them. The biggest liar in the world is "they" and they always have something stupid to say. The only thing you can do is trust your heart and follow your mind. But you knew that.

There's a man in my heart that I can't hear in my head and it's crushing my soul. The headaches don't stop; still they rage out of control. I yearn for his touch--stronger hands have yet to touch my covered ivory skin. I can't begin to speak on his petal-soft lips or even the rose-hinted smell of his hair right now. You'd think it'd be comforting. Alas, it's too painful. I'm too cold.

Shit Hit the Proverbial Fan

Wow. I didn't realize it had been so long. I sincerely apologize. Whilst I've been gone shit hit the fan. Boy did it hit that disgusting fan. Since I last spoke to you I picked up a nasty little heroin habit and I'll be checking into rehab within the next week or so. I'm picking up writing where I left off and I'm sure I'll have plenty of subject matter to air my feelings over.

I know you're wondering why. I have a couple of answers, but we'll save that for later. There is always later, right? Well that's what I'm counting on.

I've lost everything now--I'm back home at my parents' house. There was an exciting end to the drama, although I fear the real drama is only about to begin. Going on the lamb from cracked out drug dealers was pretty damned awesome though.

You can imagine.

Set It Straight

Fortunately, the following moment was fleeting. He loves me, he is the proverbial one. That's the one thing that doesn't seem to change about our relationship, despite all the tumult and manic depression between the two of us. But nothing can be beautiful that isn't just a little bit ugly...you know, for contrast...

Don't you love what is intangible

I guess I knew love would tear him apart. It fucking tore me apart. Tonight, to be specific. The love of my life--the only real and true lover I've ever known so graciously and with unmatched nonchalantness provided me with the knowledge that he doesn't care about me or us anymore. And that I'm ridiculous. He says he doesn't love me, and that I'm a stupid bitch as well. I am fuckin destroyed. He totally had me. Like, in the palm of his hand. I fear he used me. And he could totally have me again--I just don't know, and at this moment I kinda doubt--that he even wants me anymore. I guess I don't deserve it--a person like me just doesn't deserve love. It's hard to face the truth. Love is the only thing I've ever wanted, and the only thing that's managed to elude me every goddamned motherfuckin time. Shit! Love is the only reason to live--the only reason I want to live. Although after tonight, I cannot deny that I am without that which is so vital to my very existence. Love. But he said he doesn't even care. So the verdict is in: I actualy am completely unloveable, just as myself and I have suspected for years. It's never going to happpen even if I do give the most unbelieveable blow jobs in the entire world (and I do.) It's becoming clearer that the only solution is the final solution. And that sucks.
When reality sets competely in and sets up housekeeping etc. upstairs, a lonely girl realizes that sometimes our dreams just don't/aren't/never come true. And they told me "fuck you lady!" while they disappeared. But that's about right for me these days, I guess.
Life's a bitch, ain't it?? How bout a little Radiohead, eh?

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
And I wish I was special
Youre so fuckin special
But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I dont belong here.
I dont 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
Youre so fuckin special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I dont belong here.
Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fuckin special
I wish I was special...
But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo,
What the hell am I doing here?
I dont belong here.
I dont belong here.