Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Hey Jess, what's Love?

The scene:
2008 I was in the middle of my drug addicted years. Everything was bad, everything was wrong, everything hurt, every action left me feeling scorned because everything in my life revolved around my next high. Somehow at this point in time I had a vehicle, I didn't have my two girls they were living with someone safe I was allowed to see them whenever I wanted but I was so very very sick in the head that it wasn't often unfortunately. I was at my dealers house attempting to figure out my next move (how to reup) when my daughters school called me and said they needed someone to come get Nati (4) because she was throwing up. I called my mom to make sure someone would be home to be with her and stopped at walgreens to get her some tummy medicine. Nati was in this "Why" phase and "what's that" she had a genuine thirst for knowledge unlike any kid I had ever encountered normally I would allow her to ramble on and I would answer every 5th question because to answer every one of them would have taken a lifetime. This particular day I hadn't had any pain killers (my drug of choice) which meant I was in a full blown come down, shakes, sweats, irritability, the need to have an explosive bowel movement and the strong uncontrollable drive to find more pills. Keep in mind as you read this, that I have never spoken of such things from my former life I'm exposing myself like a raw nerve right now. So were in route to my moms house and Nati is asking her normal 20,000 questions all of which are distracting me from focusing on the loud annoying racket my brain and body are making, then she asks "are you gonna stay at nanas wif me?"
Me: " no doc I'm not I will come see you tomorrow though"
Nati: "but I want you to stay"
Me: "ok how about this, I will make you some soup and watch one episode of spongebob with you but then I have to go"
Nati: "why do you have to go?"
Me: "Because I have things to do"
You see my addciton didn't like questions that it couldn't answer and there was NO answer so that made me pretty aggravated.
Nati: "Like what?"
Me: "grown up stuff doc none of your concern, your nana is waiting at home to love ya up"
Then there was some silence as I tried to control my shakes and anger that was rising up from my belly with such force it scared me. Anger for no reason at all, that's what being an addict was. Anger.
Nati: "hey Jess, whats love?"
Those few words coming out of that little girls mouth taught me a bigger lesson than almost anything else I have learned in life. There was So much to those words, so much. Had I neglected her so much that she didn't have a clear line on what love was? Was I that horrible of a person?
I stammered for words... and for the first time in years the addict part of me just shut off. The sky was blue, the air was fresh, I wasn't shaking and I could see that I was living life ALL WRONG. I pulled into my moms driveway, put the car in park and thought for awhile.
What is Love? How on earth can I explain this to her?
It dawned on me that I didn't have an answer for her. Was it because I had never been shown love? No. My dad loved me unconditionally and let me know often. Hey Fred! I love ya kid. It was simply because my addiction had turned off my heart. It shut down all of the vital parts of my being that allowed me to feel love and to give love. I was lost in so many ways this was the moment I said to myself for the first time "My name is Jesse and I'm an addict who is unmanageable".
I still hadn't answered her and she was waiting.
Me: "Love is. Well Love is the way I feel about you. Your my love and your nana has lots of lovin for you inside, lets go in"
She wasn't satisfied with that answer and neither was I but I had to tell her something for right then.
As I drove away from my moms house later on that evening (dts getting worst and worst) a song came on the radio before I even left the neighborhood. It was a song that my dad used to whistle when he worked on cars or sing to me when I was scared.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly all your life you were only waiting for this moment to be free. Blackbird Fly. Into the night.
I sat at a stop sign and had a nervous breakdown. I lost control of my facilitys, my entire body shook as I heaved and sobbed my heart hurt, my eyes hurt, my soul... well my soul was in turmoil with my disease. I was fighting. On the inside a cage match was going on Jess against the evil dr. Watson (the brand of pain killer I preferred) I was trying to rid myself of this thing that was going to kill me, but I had no control. I kept hearing her sweet soft voice "Hey Jess what's love" over and over... blackbird fly.... "will you stay with me" I didn't want to move I didn't want to drive I didn't want to go back to my moms because I didn't want them to see me like that. So I pulled my car into the woods, I crawled into the backseat and I let the nervous breakdown continue. Wasn't alot else I could do. There was no sleeping, there was no comfort. Only pain deep burning fucking pain caused by myself. Or what I now know was caused by my disease. Around the afternoon of the next day (yea that's how long it took before I could drive again safely) I drove myself to my boyfriend at that times house, drug my limp body inside, made it to the bed the next few days were fuzzy. This was not the time that I got sober, no that time wouldn't come until 2011 and a whole lot more self discovery.

"So lead me back, turn south from that place, and close my eyes to my recent
disgrace, cause you know my call and we'll share my all, and our
children come and they will hear me roar"

Nati grew up some more and our lives were in a whole different place I had finally made the decision to change my life, to change my mind, to change my body. While I was in rehab one of the questions on one of their "discovering reasons to stay sober" homework was "what does love mean to you" here I was again faced with this question. But this time, there was no nervous breakdown, there were no bad emotions or feeling like a let down for not knowing how to answer.

What I wrote down came naturally:

"Love is worry, worrying about someone when there sick, worrying about them so much that you would take ALL of there sickness willingly if it meant they would feel better. Love is devotion, devotion to another soul that you will never leave there side no matter how rocky life gets, they will always find you standing behind them. Love is the way I felt holding my new babies in my arms and seeing all of the universes beauty in those eyes. Love is driving my sobriety, though it took along time the love in my heart is finally winning the battle against my demons I can feel It growing, taking over the wrecked parts of my soul and starting to slowly mend all the damage. Love is something that no one should have to fight for, its our right as human beings to Love whoever we want, whenever we want and by whatever terms our hearts feel necessary"

The Legendary Nati and Widdle Wiley :)

After that rehab stay almost 2yrs ago my life has made a drastic change. Not only my life but my love. I can feel love, when my man holds me tight. When me and the kids are on a leisurely walk in the afternoon and the birds are chirping. When our dog lays his head on my lap.
I can give love, when a homeless man is standing at the corner with a sign I will give all the money I can spare. When one of my friends needs a hug. When a grandma passes away. When an uncle takes his own life and mom needs to lean on me even though I'm feeling just as lost. I can give love.
I'm not going to comment on all of the gay marriage equality stuff going on because my feelings on this are widely known but for those of you who don't know here is a quick over view.
My daughters are being brought up by two gay men and they have multiple family members who are gay as well. Our girls are taught that love doesn't discriminate and neither should we. As for the "kids need a mom and a dad" argument well my kids do have both just with a third and fourth party involved (their dad's boyfriend and my boyfriend makes it four parenting techniques coming into play). But I don't feel its necessary, as long as they get a proper amount of love and structure.
Lets keep in mind that some of the worst people came from homes with mom and dads, Jeffrey Domer for instance. Yuran Vandersloot (don't think I'm spelling it right but who cares) its not always the upbringing that matters sometimes its just chemical make up of a person.
A gay couple can be the best thing for some kids, if they want to raise a person let them! It's their human rights.
I hope one day Nati will read this and know how grateful I am for her asking me that question all those years ago. She truly taught me without even knowing it, what love really is. I made a silent vow to my kids that my love for them would be strong enough to conquer any obstacles that might come our way. That I would NEVER let the demons win again.
I wear a necklace of my Nati's everyday, if I'm going through a hard time I rub it and think about her. A rush of love takes me over and I am reminded that my wings are no longer broken. This blackbird can fly.
Wiley Coyote being all Hollywood :)

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Blogging as Therapy *aka* over coming moisture.


adjective, moist·er, moist·est.

moderately or slightly wet; damp.

accompanied by or connected with liquid or moisture.

(of the air) having high humidity.
1325–75; Middle English moiste  < Middle French;  connected with Latin mÅ«cidus mucid

moist·ful, adjective
moist·less, adjective
moist·ly, adverb
moist·ness, noun
o·ver·moist, adjective

damp, dampen, moist (see synonym study at damp).

1. dank. See damp
Hi my name is Jesse and I have a problem. My problem is with the "bad word" as I have called it for years others use it as "moist" (I'm copying the word every time I have to use it, seems some what easier for me to deal with this way) I know it seems ridiculous to have such a distaste for a word and one that is used so popularly but you guy's have to keep in mind who you're talking to here or should I say reading about? Fuck now I'm confused. You see my friends I am a bit different. 
Just generally not because of a disorder or anything unless "Weirdness" counts as a disorder I like to think of it as a gene that allows me to be super awesome plus far more open minded and open hearted than others. I grew up in the country with limited supervision to put it nicely (my parents were busy with nose candy so I raised myself and took care of them) I have  a cousin named Temp that I was/am very close with but she lived over 5 hrs away so we didn't see each other too often, I was an only child pretty much alone so I used books, music and the woods to learn life with a few cool aunts and grandmas to step in every now and then. Then at the ripe ol' age of 15 I decided I was grown enough to do shit on my own. I had my first daughter at 16 (let this be a lesson to you teens! you might think you have the world figured out but you ain't seen SHIT yet) but this story isn't about any of that I'm simply sharing where I think some of my oddities come from. I see the world differently ya know? I embrace the strange things about myself instead of rejecting them because they might not fit in with what society would accept. 

Another one is both of my hands must be the equal amount of  wet. Say I wash my right hand off but don't necessarily "need" to wash the other one. YEA RIGHT. I need to feel the water on both hands in the same spots. Drying isn't as big of an issue as long as both hands are equally as dry. I use ALOT of hand lotion. Through my early parenting years I tried to unconciously get my daughter to do this as well. She was all cool with the ridiculous amount of times a day I requested she was her hands but she drew a line when she got jelly on her right finger, she only washed that finger. Can You Imagine?. The horror. oh the horror. So I said "Hey crazy pants get both hands please" Her reply "That's not necessary my other hand is clean and besides my teacher says were supposed to conserve water"..... BURN. Use your smarts against me. I was actually very proud of her because she's right there is no reason for this behavior but It's something I have always done and honestly I don't know how to stop it. 
I have changed so much that I fear if I let go of these brief little oddities then what will be left? Will there be any Jess left? or will it all be the new Jess, whom I love by the way she remember's things better and laughs more but the only thing left from my childhood are these corks to my personality, the house I grew up in. GONE. the dog whom protected me when no one else was around and loved me when it seemed no one did. Gone. The people as a child I turned to, the aunts not gone but no longer the same.. drugs have won those battles. My grandmas well in one's mind I'm my mother, thanks alzhiemers. The other lives a long way's away but when I can swing a visit though it may be very short she always comforts me though she may not know it, I should change that. I love that I'm 24 yrs old and as I sit here writing this I am listening to Billy Joel "Vienna" I don't want to let go of ALL of me. There are things about myself that therapists and multiple rehab facilities have tried to change I disagreed with them then and I still do. I was able to stop using but still hold on to MYSELF, to my core, to the things they tried to erase. 

With all of that being said I'm gonna go ahead tell you guy's the story of why I cringe so bad it would appear I'm seizing up when I hear this word more especially if the bad word is used in a descriptive form. 
(this blog for therapy thing is really working out for me you guy's)
Here I am 13 years old (could have been 14 I must have smoked some of this memory) I moved away from home and in with my Aunt Hair to a small town right outside of Houston. It was quite a shock for a small town country girl to be that close to the hussle and bussle of the big city I had spent some time in the city before with my grandma but I was sheltered by her of course as a young child. Shortly after moving my mother and father decided if I wouldn't move back with them, they would move where I was. The only place they could afford were government rented apartments 20 minutes outside of the city. YAY. After MUCH protest I agreed to move in with them out of loyalty they had moved with a mattress and a tv. That was it. So I brought a blanket, pillow and cd player to bunk down with them I just couldn't imagine them in the apartment by themselves it takes a village after all right? Well the next day after moving in we got some furniture donated to us so me and a girl I had be-friended (one of the only good things about this time of my life was that being so close to people helped me over come the social anxiety I had experienced) were outside helping move things in. 
I walked out of the apartment and noticed a woman sitting on the stairs that lead to the apartments above us actually her smell met me before she did. Have you ever been in kroger during a storm when they have lost electricity for awhile and it's a hot Houston summer day, Walking past there fish market on this day directly behind a overweight indian guy chowing down on curry with a serious need for some Gas x - is pretty much the only smell that would come close to how badly this woman stunk. 
after searching the internet this is the closest pic I can find for how she appeared except add a see through laced pink skirt to this outfit and auburn hair. While attempting to suck oxygen past the odor before I passed out she realized I was there and called out "HEY there new neighbor!" She had a virginia slim in one hand and the other slowly touching herself ALL OVER. I could tell by her voice she must have started sharing cigarettes with her mother shortly after delivery. She also sounded as if she were gurgling water all of the time and it looked like she had cotton balls stuffed in her lips ( I remember thinking maybe she was trying to clean her teeth but didn't know how I felt compelled to give her my toothbrush) I quietly while trying to be as polite as possible said "hi..." and attempted to rush past her back to the truck where I was supposed to be helping but she continued to talk "Yall need some help my sorry good for nothin' husband is upstairs he ain't busy doin' shiiiiit" at this point I'm panicking because she is touching herself while talking to me. Slowly rubbing her titi's and making these awful noises that one could only assume was her liver attempting to flee. I quickly spoke up " No. No. thank you anyways but we have it under control" then my friend  DJ walks up next to me we are the only one's home my parents had to go to town and they had just told her to go hang out with me until they got back. They had no idea of the situation they were leaving us in. As DJ walked up I could see the smell hitting her as at first she curiously sniffed the air then quickly regreted it and as a flight response (because this was lethal enough to be toxic fumes) she started snorted violently trying to get the smell out of the worlds dankest vaginer out of her nostrils which made me laugh, which made the smell go right into my mouth.
Exactly Britney. Exactly.
So at this point we are both acting like fools making crazy facial expressions and pulling our shirts over our noses. You would think this behavior would have made her aware of her odor. BUT NO. No it did not. She opened her mouth yet again and what came out has haunted me in such a way that only the truly damaged will understand: Skank bitch laughing while talking "Hey you guys are funny! Man I'm so horny" (keep in mind she is still rubbing herself) "My ol' man ain't good fer Nothin' I tried all morning to get him to put his dick in my hot moist throbbing pussy! that fucking asshole he don't take care of me that's alright I can touch my own sweet hole" (all of this said while she basically masturbated in front her teenage next door neighbors that she had never met before). As she was saying this I was gagging. Not like a little "Oh no I feel woozy" But "OH FUCK VOMIT IS GOING TO COME OUT OF MY NOSE" type of way. DJ was backing up with a HORRIFIED look on her face, there was nothing funny about our situation any longer it went from "man thanks for the curtsey sniff dumbass" to us looking at eachother like these might have been our final moments alive and we wanted to communicate to one another how sorry we were that this is how our short lives were going to end. I don't remember much after this part of the story, I know we both ended up at DJ's apartment (we just left my apartment door opened and booked it for safety) we slammed the door and both different sinks, she went to the bathroom to shower and I basically had a bird bath in her kitchen sink. I scrubbed everything I could manage with dish soap, my nose first and fore most, eyes, mouth, ears (but only lightly because another one of my ticks is I don't like anything or anyone touching my ears) hands, feet and knees. Then I leaned back on the wall and sunk into a heap on the ground holding myself, rocking back and forth, grinding my teeth all while trying desperatly to get the smell and her words out of my head. They were on repeat. Over and Over. Moist. Throbbing. Moist. Throbbing. The smell. Moist. DJ found me after making a quick recovery herself she walked in the kitchen laughing "DUDE!! dear god that was by far the skankiest nastiest woman I have ever encountered what are we gonna do next time we see her we just RAN AWAY? and left your door open by the way" I was still in shock though I didn't give a flying fuck about what would happen when I saw her again because at this point I had let my "Freaky Deeky Back Off I have Issues) persona come out. After my parents got home and discovered we weren't there they came down that's when we told them the story, For a brief second I thought that maybe they might just get offended and go tell this woman to stay the fuck away from there teen daughter with such nastiness. They laughed. They laughed from a good hearty place way down, my dad had tears rolling down his face probably from my epic fail of saying the word moist. My tick started right away as soon as I heard her say that word it was burned into my brain as a negative experience and when I was force to say it I would get a deeeeeeep cringe that began at my toes and would have me bent over shaking my head trying to fling it from my brain.
The image on the right is pretty much what happens when I hear the word I gave up on saying it starting that day, I also had some problems with the word throbbing but have seem to of gotten over that word I guess because I don't have hear as often.
(This from the whole pretty girls doing ugly faces craze (I love it) I don't know who this chick is but I hope she's cool with me using her image. )

I have learned through out my life way's to avoid randomly making the insane face and body movements when I see the word. I avoid the cake isle's every where I go if I am forced down them I stare the ground until through. I avoid the weather on certain channels because I have noticed which weathermen use the bad word heavily. My friends and family however have always found my tick HILARIOUS.
What makes it worst is if the word is used in a descriptive method that I can "relate" to as in: when I had my stomach surgery the after care instructions said to make sure the site didn't get... moist. (this one has me cringing right now) or if my hands are wet and someone says it.. don't really know why this one gets me but it does. The worst is the hot days during summer when I'm working on something outside, My ladies you feel me here! that unfresh feeling is worst times 5,000 when you hate the word associated with it. 

These should be awesome but I can't have them so I keep baby whipes instead.
See what I mean here people? Can you see how the trauma just continues? My friends send me pic all the time of places in life where they think they have found the Worst Moist Context ever. You guy's can go like my fb page Hey Freddie

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and if you run across a horrificly placed "M-Bomb" share it with me to help me get over this ridiculous tick! Maybe yours will be the worst context of the word EVER. Well in my book anyways. Thanks for joining me for this instillation of using blogger as a therapist.