Recovery, trauma

LIFE 81315LIFE MATTERS 81315

LIFE IS FUCKING COOL
With mornings sunrise edging up and over woodlands and neighboring rooftops. My spirt contemplates the most important decision to be made that day. Shall I rise to continue on this journey. Am I willing to fulfill my daily commitments to self and the world that surrounds. Will I venture deeper within to explore, accept and celebrate my personal truths? Soon my ever enduring vessel consisting of flesh, other matter and illusion responds with a resounding YES!

My morning head still foggy, rest cradled in a nest of down, cotton and twill. Tossing in a slow time-lapse motion. While twitches, of five a.m. lazy limbs wake my slowly emerging torso rolling from side to side. Legs, linger over mattress cliffs. As energy drifts guiding my feet safely towards destination floor.

I sigh, with calm excitement knowing morning rituals may now begin. As I kneel facing east, I gently kiss three times the lacquered slats of oak beneath my knees.

I bless the twenty-four before me with sincerity of heart. I am filled with deep appreciation for all gifts future, past and present. At peace, I visualize my truth du jour while reciting my rotating mantras. Prayers for the deceased are spoken and meditations begin. I fill myself unforcefully full with my creative and spiritual nutrients. Whatever the concoction may be that day. That is the fuel that will see me through.

Finally as my Bustello, my “holy water” blesses my inner tube-ways. I am focused, fresh, with a heart revitalized, gently jacked with empathy, compassion and my personal commitments at hand. I begin as I ended the evening prior. Plugged into my “Source” and understanding my truth. Having made the decisions to be empowered and embracing my freedom of voice. I exhale mindfully slow, embarking on a new untrodden day.

This all must seem like a lot of work to some, understandably so. “Why not a simple shower and a back door blast” you may ask.  Certain life events create a more complicated start. For some it is having a baby, or a heart attack others it is a bit more complex. The cool thing is you develop habits that are healthy. They linger as long as long as you decided they should last.

The above and a dash more if needed is worth it, I am worth it. Anyone who has experienced any trauma or addiction is worth it. For four years I could not walk down the street, get on the subway, go to work. Leave my home without my meth med injection to make life palatable that was the only way. I was completely afraid of being attacked. Old story-sorry for the repeat, but it was due to an intense gang rape.

Fortunately for me and inconvenient for some of those around me. I have moved through much of my rape crisis and the aftermath. Now I am working on setting that story aside, always with eyes open wide.

Not that long ago, November of twenty-fourteen my life began to re-evolve. I opened up to all that already exist within and around. With huge support from my dear friend and mentor Danielle (beautiful blessings). Slowly I have returned to my authentic “self”.

 These morning dedications have opened me to inner explorations and spiritual expansions. Some of these rituals I have been performing since the early 1980’s many more are new additions.

My heart had been begging for  a “truth-smack” up side my soul. A little wake up zap, to reboot my journey. I certainly had the choice to continue to live in fear. I had a choice to kill myself or to become a junkie hustler. All of those choices would be fine, I really doubt I would last long, I have a short fuse. So I listened to my core and yes it really sucked for a very long time and I am still recovering. But I fought and followed my inner voice and here I am. If on a daily basis I where not my own cheerleader, coach and best friend. By now would have literally reached my dead end.

Oh well, I learn the way I have chosen to learn. My view is I can only teach a lesson authentically, if I have lived the lesson I am teaching. I think that makes sense lol-have fun and thank you for reading.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt-lil Big R

LIFE IS FUCKING COOL

Aside
Recovery, Video

MY INWOOD LOVE AUDIO/VISUAL FORMAT

In honor of Inwood, a neighborhood nestled at the northern tip of the Isle of Manhattan. It’s streets, sounds, rhythms, smells, and parks. Most of all to my humble shack, just four flights up and to the right. Number 4J at 204 Sherman Ave. This is where light, love, sex, trauma, addiction, joy, sorrow and so much more swirled delicate and thick. Turning this home into the hyper-spastic launch pad that allowed me to rip open my soul. Digging so deep into the gutter of my life it actually penetrated into past existences.

Finally brave enough to embrace, bash and dance with the muck and miracles of my past. All of them equally important to the development of my flesh, spirit and story in other words, this life of mine.

Eventually I finished that chapter of learning and now with my “damaged” self  on the mend. And a let’s get the show on the road attitude brewing. I finally had become ready to face the creation of this “visual therapy.” This is my final release, at last I am able to let go. Rather than breaking down, I lit up through this process. Now that is change, sweet ass mother clucking change.

I love every moment of every one of these experiences that flick through this “clip-o-tage”.  Dark or light, I never will insult my existence my wishing things had been different.  Perhaps I am fooling myself, but I still stand by my word I live with zero regrets. I am here, I share story, people respond this is living even when I fuck up I am growing-life rocks.

Yes, indeed every life matters, every minute, every word, every experience-they are who we are. Finally I can say I like who I am, better yet I like the people in the world around me because of who I have become. Again that is pretty fucking awesome!

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt-lil Big R

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Images, Recovery, trauma

WELCOME to THE LAND of WHAT IF’S

NOTE: Thank you for reading-this is the most gut fueled writing of mine to date. A gentle apology for the sporadic flow. I felt it was important to keep it this organic without edit from heart to hand.

The other morning I had awoken at four embedded in a frozen paralyzation. Once more I had found myself absorbed in a minefield full of “WHAT IF’s.” My return to this uncomfortable terrain came shortly after winning what may be the best career opportunity of my work history. Filled with bliss and positive energy, the moment had me shining with magnificence. Distracting all senses from the sub-current of possible failure hovering beneath the layers of my flesh. I am generally sensitive to these sneak attacks mapped out on old life storyboards. Delivered by saboteurs unknown to others yet intimate to me.

Before I knew it, a full shut down of my emotional and mental systems where in place. The “WHAT IF” failure alerts had already begun pumping through my body, sending all sorts of mis-shaped messages. These warped old thought patterns seeped in slowly at first. Micro bits of wrinkled logic entered my being as soon as the call came presenting the news that the position was mine. Yes, the old meth addict/trauma thinking crept in. Like a dark seducer deep in the night, whispering hypnotically low. You don’t deserve this, you won’t maintain this life for long, fuck it-come on now really, whats the use? I paused attempting to acknowledge for a moment that this was only bullshit inner dialogue. Sure enough the garbage chatter took over and I temporaraly bought into my own tabloid trash headline news.

No matter how often I concluded that the above concepts have been outmoded. The “WHAT IF’s” still appear at times to hold a high-ranking office within my head. And it feels as though I am have am living in a democracy, with no right to vote.  Like a good rebel these feelings don’t last long. Eventually I become fed up with voices, I developed a spiritual spine. A mind packed with clarity and my higher self begins to rise. I love a good inner civil war, we all have them and with perseverance our best self always wins!

Life events from parental pre-insertion on formed who I am today. The events that erupted around me approximately four and half years ago had a heavily impacted my growth. Both consciously and sub, I have been conditioned through word, man and fuel. The meseeges I recived where-Robbie, you have never or will again be capable of courting good fortune or experiencing regular intervals of joy, love or success. I know this is rubbish talk, the “WHAT IF’s” and associated “FEAR” talks are not reality, they are artificial truths. They should not to be ignored or dismissed but looked at, loved, reveled and healed. Other words before they harm disarm.

While in the midst my recent self esteem dishevelment. The days and nights that followed, my fears had gained momentum. The truth is I have not been able to maintain a steady job until I released the last emotional hemorrhage of rape. I experienced rotating life freezes, which I now consider quite boring. My addiction savagely fed off my trauma. Intense trauma flashbacks also prevented me from career, romance and life advancements. My inner light dimmed, side-tracking me from illuminated thought. Even during a healthy adjustment period as I moved above and through addiction/trauma (done did done). It took time for my universal mind to gently flicker back to bright. During the dim moments I was filled with all sorts of illusional/delusional dialogue now nudged aside. I will ignore the list of endless self sabotage discussions and what if’s… you’re not good enough’s etc’s. Trust me the list can go on for weeks. For those in the know I’m sure you are all nodding with a great big chorus of OH YA’s.

SCREW THE CRUDDY THINKING:
Never will I go back to living in that hell ever again. Nope never again, never ever again-GOD NEVER AGAIN! Screw the old “WHAT IF’s” I simply do not have the room, time or interest for all that wasted energy. How about WHAT IF I DO HAVE all of those wonderful things like success, love, career, joy? WHAT IF I choose  to share all this AMAZING stuff? Now that is an epically great WHAT IF, stay on track and continue to change your story. This is living, this is life!

I have already moved mountains, harnessing the strength of a thousand lifetimes. I realize I am fiercely strong and most know I am eternally grateful for the lessons I continue to embrace as I experience a fully vital life. I am now void of old darkness that once bit ripped and destroyed. I have come so far, I have reached a higher level of living. Although as I sit here writing my gut rumbles with the need to roar and release. I have never fully let it-all out let the anger fly first I need to admit I had a right to be angry. I never just belted my real feelings out, never not even to myself or my demons and events. I need to finally SCREAM IT, I just need to get it out of my system once and for all. It is time to really RAGE out without hesitation. I’m sitting here and I can’t believe I have never done so. I have been so passive aggressive about the most brutally aggressive event in my life.

(a teeth rupturing blast of air from a clenched abdomen violently punches forward as I scream-at my group sexual assault, rapist’s and previous meth addiction)
I fucking hate you, I hate what you did to me. You thieving shady bastard, I Hate what you took from me. I despise the night I ever met you and allowed your demonic fuel into my life. Fuck Meth-Fuck Death-Fuck Rape I’ve come way to far to let some bullshit of a stupid drug, a gang rape by 11 men and surrounding events hold me back ever again.

You took everything from me nearly my sanity nearly my life-fuck you. I hate every moment of this experience with you. Although I love what I learned along the way. I still would never trade a second of it and I fucking thank you for the lessons and growth. I absolutely would not be who I am today without you. But I hate the power you held over me the men I met and what I lost and what I sacrificed along the way. I Hate you for taking my apartment, I Hate you for putting me in the hospital and I Hate you for the nightmares that lasted for these years. I Hate you for ripping me open, I Hated being in the hospital for a week, I Hated serving me a life of denial, and moments of psychosis. I Hated becoming nearly spiritually naked, I Hate you for making me live in fear, I Hate you for making me fearful of men, I Hate you for making it impossible to wear short sleeve shirts, I Hate you for my poor decisions, I Hate you for taking my money, I Hate you for taking my mind for that period of time I fucking hate you for taking my career. I absolutely Hate you for taking my confidence, I Hate you for the lies, I Hate you for dehydration,  I Hate you for taking me from my beloved NY I don’t know when I’ll fully heal from that perhaps when I have a home again. I Hate you for taking me from my dear Teddy I really hate you for that. I Hate you taking my intimacy, I Hate you for taking my Humor, I Hate you for taking spirt, and I Hate you for taking my sexuality. I miss my things my home-my home-my I hate you for making me sob till this day for the loss of my home. You took me from my New York, I miss my life… yes I also miss the good “WHAT IF’s” also. Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can say I am grateful for what I learned. The list could go on but this is enough now. For every “I HATE” there is a “I LOVE” Believe it or not there is but the anger needed to be released at this time.

I never got angry about this, I never ever got this angry before I never screamed. I never ever blamed another, for my addiction, I never blamed the person who started me. I never ever said it was anyone else’s fault, even the rape. I never screamed about the evil 11, I was in shock for 6 months and numb for years after. I cried in silence but I never raged over it I never just belted out in rage. Now I really understand that not all wars are fought against man. Sometimes the battle is within man not against.

I now live a life of choices, one of my choices is to write, to create to live through art beauty word vision and healing of self and others. I choose to release this clutter from my life. To remain focused on the light and the beauty of the world around me I always have I simply had a detour as part of my life experience. I have done more living and loving in the last 6 months than I have in the past 52 years on this amazing planet. Now that is living a life expanding, everything is possible. This has been my new truth, my new story.

A REFLECTIVE WRAP UP:
Getting sober off meth is only part of my story. Recovery from trauma is another, then the real work is the continuous love labor of my inner worth. 95% of the time I am an absolutely a gangbuster goodwill ambassador of my own personal optimized and growing potential. I survived years crazy stories one after another from the womb to in and out of the “rooms” of recovery and more. It took me a long time to write my sober story and what is acceptable to me. Drinking is part of my sober story maybe not another’s own your story. It is just that but be honest loving and forgiving always. There are no wrong turns if you know your truth.

The destruction addiction and trauma alone or together can play on a persons inner wiring is lethal. It is all about perspective, you go through years of living a life slowly becoming comfortable with being less than. It is like joining a cult, you don’t even know what is happening, the same is true with trauma. You are being chipped away at from the inside out, scrambling about believing the lies. And when you arrive on the other side it takes a long time for some of us to believe that we have any value at all. Some of us can’t even bathe, brush our teeth, eat, take a compliment. A few months ago I couldn’t even get on a subway. Six months ago I couldn’t look in the mirror. Several years ago I couldn’t look at a man over 40 without an injection of meth. I had been so manipulate, beaten down and I no longer knew what the word aspiration meant.

It takes a lot of love to flip our stories. The change is simply a return to your truth we all have a core self that never changes. It is simply remembering who we really are. Loving ourselves, discovering possibly for the first time who we are. BTW hell yes we all have value, EVERYONE has VALUE and EVERYBODY is IMPORTANT. We all have our journeys and we all have our stories and they are all equal in value. No life one is superior no story more tragic than another. Own your journey and love the fuck out of yourself and those around you!

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt-lil Big R

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Images, Recovery, Selfportraits, trauma

MY DARK EXTRACTION-PTSD Part 2

Authors Note:
This series of writings and art documents a period of time between November 2011 through March 2015. It is primarily a written excursion intended to retrace, understand and release the events surrounding a trauma that took place while I was living in New York City. Eventually there will be approximately five segments in total. My only desire is to bring hope to another while I learn continue to grow along my written path of discovery. And as always me we all fine peace love and light as we each venture through our own life journeys.

Part 2
Understanding The Roots of Distrust and a Release Back to Freedom

My childhood training had taught me wrong and has taught me strong. As kids we were raised with a fear fueled understanding to never seek or accept help from beyond the boundaries of our modest suburban ranch style nest. It was instilled in our young minds that the ramifications from such explorations could easily be stacked against us within the confines of family a court. Further fracturing the bond between a struggling mother and her three son’s. Our tribe growing up was a small one, we where all we had. This tribe consisted of an absent alcoholic disaster of a father, my two brothers, my mother and I, it was always US versus an invisible THEM = The World?!.

I learned young, fast and hard through both word and observation. That it is best to zip that lip boy and never voice a need, concern or opinion to any figure of authority. (somehow I never was fully silenced, I always was a fighter-looking back now I chuckle) Over and over these fears had been reinforced through various actions. The authority source to whom we where to fear never much mattered. In my young mind they seemed to be on a rotating roster, with a special guest appearance nearly every day. It could be a guidance counselor, teacher, doctor, therapist, a man of the cloth, person of law or even a waiter. But almost always, it was a male figure that we or at least I were taught to distrust. All of my pre-tween human avoidance education boiled down to the basics. Man up, suck it up, or shut the f#*k up. Along with a scroll full of other this and that’s of previous generational anxiety packed logic. These are old tools and old rules that I no longer subscribe to. They are broken gadgets, I now dispose of them. (by the way you can skip the re-cycle bin.)

For many I am sure that to accept help from another human being during a moment of life crisis is an act of innate logic. Of course we should reach out and access any available source of safety and assistance. Now I know what I have been taught as a child was both backwards and counter intuitive. Although I also understand that these teachings where intended for my own protection. The truth is that accepting help or relying on another when we are in need is actually pro-active and not something to be ashamed of. It is an action of self-love and is an essential part of self-care. At the time of my adult trauma there seemed to be as much shame surrounding the pursuit of any life affirming reinforcements, as there was encircling the events that led to my self encased demise.

Now I scratch my graying head a little wiser, wondering WTF have I been thinking remaining in this cage for so long? Honestly, what embarrassment is there to be had by learning from peers who have wrestled with the same demons as I in comparative situations? Or to develop new tools in restorative care while allowing a professional to assist in the re-navigation of my life. BFD, my life compass needed a little recalibrating and a gentle nudge back onto my personal path of discovery. I no longer have hesitations about jumping on board life’s super highway. If somebody else who is better qualified needs to do the steering for a while as I become comfortable once more with life’s multi sensory terrain. I am ok with that, I am again trusting of my instincts and of my fellow-man. I am completely enamored with this planet and I intend on enjoying all that it has to offer.

As much as I’d like to think I am Mr. Passive, I am in fact a strong-willed individual who happens to have a sensitive side. The sensitive part of me has been so compassionate, always holding onto that one last golden thread of hope. Continuously whispering in my ear that I would eventually make it through this disaster bigger brighter and stronger and with a purpose. “Just hold on little buddy, you’ll see” he would tell me. My internal cheerleader rocks and I would not be here without him.

The alpha side of me aided in my survival by being the brute fighter and my inner big brother. I adore him, he has adrenalin and no vocal filters. The night of my attack my inner brute fought for my life. He rode the adrenalin blast that supplied by my bodies fight, flight or freeze response system supplied. He did his best to save me from further harm. We all have aspects within ourselves that come out and fight for us when in danger this is a fact and a gift of nature. I adore my inner warriors, like Chucky where friends ’til the end! I would not be here today without these equally strong and important aspects of my personality.

In the past I hoped another could fix me, I would kill for a passionate embrace. I am a passionate man by nature, during the peak of my post trauma insanity I was to afraid of people. Primarily men over 40 to even let them into my life, let alone close to my body. Not without social lubricants-that being drugs and alcohol. I am so glad that chapter of closed and my heart is again open. I could really care less about a good butt plummet (yes you should giggle) that was never my main go to. The drugs numbed me and naps removed me, spirituality revitalized me, my inner journey reconnected me. I am grateful for all of the above, both the dark and the light they all served in some capacity and I have zero regrets.

The truth is, throughout all of the chaos, sober or not I was completely clueless to what was really going on deep down within me. There where however times when I somehow manage to reach out. Only to find myself retracting my trembling up turned palm as quickly as I presented it. Usually after some great epiphany of divine truth. My swift retractions where another sign of my trauma denial. A declaration often would be made after one of these enlightened moments that all was well in Robbie-Ville. And I’d find myself free once more to hop aboard my avoidance train as it promptly left the station. I would begin to ignore my inner turmoil, with a smile of denial. I had my “GOD” moment and I’d start to shuffle along, with my unspoken motto being “if it don’t hurt, don’t fix it.”

I had many brilliant lessons in light have all served a purpose. They have provided me with strength hope and knowledge, gently nudging me to where I proudly stand today. Although they all have been essential tools towards recovering my life. No real change could possibly have taken place until I faced the root of my evil. The universe knew I was finally ready to rip open my soul and face my brutal truth. The moment had come for me to finally get gritty, real and raw. I needed to jump into my demon trenches and face this fucker once and for all. It was time to grab this bastard by the nuts and regain control of my life.

After my recent trauma flashbacks that took place the week of March 9th. I’ve come to understand that I have been battling illusions for these past few years. As real as my terrors have appeared, they no longer are physical truths. They are now only memories, I own them they no longer own me.  As real as my terrors seemed, no matter how intense the emotions, or voices in my mind. Even as real as the sensations of feel my asshole ripping open again felt. Even though I could actually feel the blood dripping down my crack. They where all illusions and they no longer hold any power over me. The gashes where in my memory not my hole.

I have finally reached a shift in my journey, where I am able to let go of everything. It is all simply dissolving around me like powdered sugar in cream, I have crossed over to a new understanding. I suppose only those who have experienced something like this know exactly what I am talking about.  Don’t get me wrong I’m not shutting my eyes to anything or running from a dam thing. That’s the whole point I’ve stopped running. I refuse to be a victim to anything past present or future to the best of my souls ability. I have learned to love my little monsters, I have come to a place of peace and acceptance. A few of my global brothers and sisters have taught me to learn to walk with my demons and not to fight them. I now wake every morning and thank the universe for the buckets of knowledge and personal expansions that I have received. I never thought I could be so abundantly gifted. At least not through such a bitch of an experience-sounds like bullshit but it is true.

Now I allow myself to reach out with a trusting heart, the shame game is over. I am now so much lighter and graciously brighter. I have broken through so many preconceived illusions about my life from childhood until now. I have learned that my writing and art have quite literally saved my life. There are so many amazing people who have supported me both seen and unseen, I genuinely THANK YOU!  I have been supplied tools from above and within. I have revisited  spiritual utensils from my past that I have not picked up in decades. Giving them a good buff and a little loving, now they are as good as new (of course). I exchanged my fears for love and have moved forward.

I have a little more writing to do as I finish this process. Who knows I may continue to write about this aspect of my journey for another 30 years. All I know is that for now my heart is light and my life is right. Now onto part three – The Main Expulsion the catalyst for this series.

Love and Light Always

The Empowered Runt-lil Big R

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Recovery, Selfportraits, trauma

MY DARK EXTRACTION – PTSD Part 1

Authors Note:
This series of writing and art documents a period of time from November 2011 through March 2015. This is primarily a written excursion intended to retrace, understand and release the events surrounding a trauma that took place while I was still living in New York City. Eventually there will be five chapters in total. My only desire is to bring hope to another while I learn continue to grow along my written path of discovery. And as always peace love and light as we each venture through our own life journeys.

Part One:
I never quite understood the power of my PTSD. At some point I had slipped through the boarders of my denial, sheltered, safe from the impact and the grip that my trauma has held over me these past four and a half years. Although this event is not new, the threats feel as fresh as this morning’s news. Throughout this time I have attempted to remain protected by my minds invisible shield. With large shards of my memory set patiently on hold, select thoughts have sat waiting for an appropriate moment of release. When the time is ripe they exit accordingly, seeping through the boundaries of my mind, wandering out through the soft fleshed walls of me, where I have kept them fenced in and safe. Or have they kept me? When moments of unspoken permission arise, I give my inner workings a gentle nod and attempt to do my best to come to terms with them. At these moments I work to the best of my ability to become reacquainted with a nearly forgotten self. I promise to be patient although frustration, back-stepping and rage arise. As I relearn to live, I begin to trust. And with the universe on my side at last I pray for the re-assemblage of my life to begin.

I do have hope absolute that my mind terrors will decelerate, no longer wielding weapons, aimlessly thrashing throughout my muted unprotected thoughts like slow dull blades ripping, wounding my slow restructuring spirit that I now choose to claim once more as my own. The reality of course is that these memories have always been and always will be a part of who I am. Now I am learning to own them, to walk with them to no longer cower in their presence. What I am really talking about is pain management and harm reduction.  Ultimately I am learning to love all of my experiences and come to terms with them while at the same time, expunging the power that the memories of this event have held over me and their physical and mental impact. The moment had to be right and no life journey is the same. There are no rules. I know in time my life catalogue of experiences, like all of our journeys will be looked upon as a magnificent tool, for both my own health and well-being and I am confident to also help another as my existence continues to expand and unfold and as my heart opens. (sorry-not sorry if some are tired of hearing my mantra…xxx)

Up until now I have spent much of my time perched high riding lost on the back of my denial, blindfolded and numb. Living cocooned in a synthetic liquid escape of injected crystal meth. Through the first half of this dark adventure I had participated in a delusional codependent relationship. Unknowingly creating my own not so safe-safe space of disintegrating independence, flesh and sense of self. Later, I have found out that most of my actions have been fairly normal reactive behaviors. Over these years I have ridden the wicked waves of my emotional and phycological destruction. Each thrust seemed cruel, malicious and often difficult to define. I’d find myself smashing high then crashing low, I collapsed with each rush upon the shores of my physic reality. Spiritual erosion nibbled at the framework of my fundamentally kind yet isolating character. I fumbled about with good intent, generally clueless throughout this journey. I have experienced many rebirths, peaks and ravines on every level. I have struggled up and down round and round through sobriety and spiritual awakenings. I often revisited the ruins of my personal truths, although my visits may have been momentary. A perpetual syncopation of interruptions was in motion. Consisting of terror, regret, hysteria, self blame, and an endless series of nagging how’s what’s and why’s? My existence had become a constant dance of two steps forward and three steps back. It was a slow death cha-cha!

This experience, as I assume it is for many others has been a hateful beast. It had kept me addicted to meth for what seemed to be a lifetime. Although I understand the meth protected me from the shock and scars of trauma, and I am actually grateful for this tool, I think I would have been off this planet long ago without it. But “TINA” only kept me among the living dead and she sure as hell seemed to have dragged this healing process out. As I skip back down Flashback Lane it is no accident that my drug use skyrocketed immediately after my hospital excursion that pre-Thanksgiving week. It took me six months post trauma to admit what had happened or to even choke out that word, that word being RAPE. It was about another year before I was able to muddle about for help. It was a nervous scurry of manic frantic motion that bore no fruit. At the time my nervous system was rattled with drugs, I was a fractured in spirit. No longer stable, my medications were on a fluctuating schedule and my diet was fucked. This boy was wasting away, paranoid and completely lost. I also had become embedded emotionally and mentally in my abusive relationship. The purpose of the partnership was as much about keeping me addicted to the man as it was about keeping me addicted to the drugs and breaking me down. The trauma was the bonus glue that kept the disaster spinning in place.

As time moved forward, sometimes at sparked speed sometimes at a mind snagging crawl, life became more and more unmanageable. My PTSD just evolved into a way of life and I adjusted to the grotesque. I became comfortable with the uncomfortable, I came to accept my demons as part of my life, we almost became friends. I had always prided myself on few yet tight, close and healthy friendships and partners. Now I had several unhealthy ones, I hated my addiction-actually that is a lie, I loved my addiction. My addiction to crystal meth kept me alive, it was the only thing that made life palatable although maddening and nearly killed me as it robbed me of life’s beauty and joy. I hated my partner yet loved him in that weird twisted way. I lived in fear of him, I feared everything I hated my rape, I hated my life, I hated who I had become and I was completely miserable. I was in a state of decay slowly being engulfed a sinkhole of my own life wasting. I was living a very slow and painful death and I know this was not a pretty site to watch. Nor a pretty life to live but this is not the end of my journey it gets so much brighter and so much better.

Love and Light Always

The Empowered Runt-lil Big R

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Recovery, Selfportraits

Change Your Story

My life story like all is made of thousands of shifting layers. I choose to see all of them as perfect pages in the book of my life. Over time as I relax and become fluid with this format writing I will dive deeper into the grit the grime of my history and what I have learned. Along with celebrate all the light as the chapters continue flip open. My only goal is to identify with others or they with I, to inspire and hopefully share a little life of my lifes experience. Along the way I’m sure I’ll continue recover and discover. Today the tale within my mind is all about a recent milestone I reached regards to my slam dance with Chrystal Meth. Along with slice of my experience with the 12 steps of recovery. First off I absolutely support 12 step recovery concepts, it is a fact for many of us a literal resurrection back to the living. Sincere applause, so many great woman, men, youth and cross sexes.

I finally reached a significant milestone and I am very proud of that. This is my story, my right, my accomplishment. I am so very grateful to be alive, to even have a steady hand to write this is mind blowing. As they traditionally ask, “how did you do it” my honest answer would have to be. With a hodgepodge formula based on freshly taught self love, self respect, amazing support and my personal journey into depths of my own unknown.

Two weeks ago a series of events took place, leading to in program speak to a technical “slip,” according to the BIG BOOK of AA. All fine and dandy with me. I stayed sober in my book, No Tina/Meth in my system. No one is going to tell me I’m not sober. I worked my ass off, love you kids and a plastic coin is lovely but… My HP has got my back and no way is this meant as bitter slight. I know it may sound that way. My message about recovery programs is always the same. My only wish is for more self empowerment and self love. And the equal inclusion of all persons needing help. Not only the new, young and hot of course this is not always the case this is based only a few experiences not even the majority.

In gay CMA the click and club factor from my personal experience can be exhausting. Nothing is more frustrating than seeing a middle aged woman come in needing help only to be ignored because a hot young gym stud is also in need. Key word ALSO, they both deserve recovery period. Please if you are in recovery and struggling my single solid message is. Do not believe the terms YOU ARE DEFECTIVE or YOU ARE DISEASED. Those are lies now change your truth and change your story you are so totally worth it. Give yourself the power to believe in a better you! The image I posted is a composite from my heavy using days and a prime example of what the story of defective and diseased has the power to do. CHANGE YOUR STORY-and if you slip big f**king deal get back up, it’s a new day…

I for one was a royal mess who lost everything, I am so grateful to be alive. To be attracting the people I attract and to be rewriting my story daily. I live in daily wonderment sometimes overwhelmed by the good. Sometimes in a funk, but even a funk is better than the madness, insanity and hopelessness of my mad crazy times. It was a prison with syringes as bars and the voices in my head and paranoia as my wardens. I thought there was no escape but I made it through the madness, man did I ever…step by “step slowly I turned, come on.”

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt – lil Big R

http://www.crystalmeth.org/index.php

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