Butterfly Days

I'm a big believer in my body's ability to heal itself. I hurt my back pretty badly a couple of years ago and, given that the oxy they gave me at the hospital did fuck all, I decided that the best thing to do was to let my body rest and fix itself. It eventually did and I was able to walk and work again. Which was a very good thing given a) how bad I smelled and b) if I don't work I don't get paid. 

Somedays it's my brain that needs a rest. To curl up small and eat nice food for me to be able to process how I'm feeling and reset. Like a caterpillar right before it turns into a butterfly. I rest one day so I can be a beautiful strong butterfly the next. 

Before my journey towards getting sober, I often use these days as an excuse for sleeping off a hangover and getting nothing done. It wasn't rest I was giving my body, it was a chance to get the countless units of alcohol that I had fed myself the night before out of my system. Unsurprisingly, this didn't exactly make me feel better the next day and quite often the hangover would still linger. 

Now I'm getting sober (10 days and counting) these butterfly days are feeling slightly different. For one thing, I can still wake up early. My boyfriend wakes up at the wank ass of dawn to get ready for work and so I started waking up at the same time and my body has now adjusted to a new schedule. Unsurprisingly I'm getting a lot more done, so I'm trying to keep that up. 

This meant that my most recent butterfly day was a lot more productive than usual. Yes, I mostly spent the day in bed, but I managed to brush my teeth, shower and do my morning skincare. I was also able to eat something that wasn't deep-fried and delivered in an Uber Eats bag which made me feel even better. I rested, read my book and wrote in my journal. The only thing I didn't do was write a blog post, but that's why I have posts scheduled ahead of time. 

This new kind of rest day is showing me even more reasons to stay sober. There is no point in resting if it doesn't make me feel any better and a day wasted resting to sleep off a hangover is still a day wasted. Now I'm realising that not only is my journey towards sobriety helping me to be more productive, but it's also helping me to rest and relax. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Self destruction

I'm a 1/3 of my way into the first beer I've had in nearly a week and a half and it's making me feel like shit. I was doing so well, but right now I don't care. 

It's not necessarily a desire to drink that drove me to open the can in the fridge, although that was a part of it.  It was a desire to self-destruct. My BPD is off the scale today and I've turned my phone off and hidden myself away for the day, but that doesn't mean I'm not angry. 

There's not one specific thing I'm angry about. I'm angry that life is so boring, I'm angry that my boyfriend is thousands of miles away staying with his ex-girlfriend, I'm angry that I haven't paid my credit card off and I'm angry at my mum for her anorexia. 

She was a spiteful and manipulative woman when I was growing up. The person she is now is a million miles away from the woman that raised me. Why does she get to be thin and I don't? Why can't I starve myself and still function? It's not fair that she gets what she wants and I don't get what I've wanted for so long. I should get to be thin, not her. She has two children, she should have dealt with her shit by now. I should be the one who gets to be thin, she doesn't deserve it. I do.

I want to self-harm so badly right now I feel sick. All I could think of when I was walking to the drug store was buying a pack of razor blades, preferably the old-school safety razor ones (my blade of choice) but ones you can use for dermaplaining if I couldn't find any. Just the thought of rolling my sleeve up, looking down at my left arm and slicing the blade against my skin over and over again, just watching the blood pour and pour and pour and pour. Dripping down my arm and onto the floor, flooding my body with whatever hormone or chemical is released when I truly get to do what I want. 

I didn't buy any razor blades. I can't have cuts on my arms at work and even though I can cut my thighs it doesn't give the same high. I have scars over other parts of my body, my stomach because I hate it so much and my left thigh because it's easy to reach, but cutting my arms is what I really love. There's even one on the middle finger of my left hand from when I picked up a piece of glass to with. That one was a bust. My skin was too thick and scarred and it barely even made a mark. 

The drive to get high is there too. Whatever I say cocaine is hands down one of my favourite things on the planet. Just the simple act of opening the bag, pouring the powder onto the table and racking up line after line makes me feel amazing. I miss being a junky so much, because it's easy. When all you care about is getting high you don't give a shit about anything else. You wake up, either get high or do the things you need to do to get high, go to bed and wake up the next day to do it all over again. It's an endless cycle that only stops when you have no access to your drug of choice and you either move onto something else or get clean. The only things stopping me from getting high are my lack of access to drugs, although this is normally easy to get around, money and the fact that Australian cocaine is shit. 

Seriously for a country that's so much closer to Mexico than England, you'd think the quality would at least be on par, but no. 

Drinking this beer is the only way I have of hurting myself right now. Not physically, I know that two or three beers aren't going to kill me, but mentally hurting me. I know I want to get sober and I'm choosing to drink as a way of hurting myself. It's not disfiguring or painful like self-harm. It's not illegal like cocaine, but it's still a way of hurting myself. All I want to do is hurt myself. I hate myself. This is just the best I can do. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Kill your darlings

I'm finding it really hard to work out a blog schedule at the moment. I have a lot I want to write and I'm dedicated to writing everyday and that's going well. What seems to be going tits up is when things get published. I don't want to write posts that go up the day I write them, I want to plan ahead. But as a lot of my posts are date specific, I'm getting myself a little confused. 

For the most part my recent posts have been about my boyfriend going away for the birth of his 3rd daughter. This is a very niche and time-sensitive subject. It would make no sense for me to post an article about how I felt about him leaving when he's already been away for nearly a week. But that means I have posts written that are too late to publish, and the lack of organisation will show. 

Right now I'm stuck staring at my computer in a way that teenage me would have fantasised about were I also staring out the window of a Starbucks. I want to get ahead with my writing incase I have a bad day and feel unable to write. That way at the very least I'll be able to continue with my goal to publish a post everyday. My lack of organisation is showing and I don't want to discard my work, but there are some posts I'm going to have to let go. 

When I was at university I had a lecturer who was, in all honesty, terrifying. In one of our first lectures she told us that no one cared what we had to say and once made a group announcement telling us that none of the pieces of course work that we submitted were very good. She was blunt, honest and sometimes upset me, but none of this was done out of spite. She wanted us to be good students and to producde good work, and it realy helped me in the long term. 

One of the things that helped me the most was her teaching us the phrase "Kill your darlings". Pretty dark when you first hear it, but I can assure you it has nothing to do with murder. What the phrase does mean is that, just because you love something that you've written or produced, doesn't mean everyone else will. 

Letting go of copy because it either doesn't work or fit within the rest of your writing can be hard. At first it is easy to see every word you type as a gift to the universe. After all, who wouldn't want to read every word you have to say? The thing is though, not everything is going to be great, and I need to remember this. It may be that it's gramatically or factually incorrect, that the tone doesn't match the brief or that it's just plain shit. Culling your work doesn't feel great but it isn't going to kill you. What it is going to do is make you a better writer. 

This post is being published on a day that I had intended to post a piece I was very proud of. It was honest and I as I wrote it I felt as if I was really getting to the depths of why I was feeling the way I did. It just doesn't fit within my blogging schedule. Don't get me wrong, I'll be able to work it around and edit it so I can publish it in the future, but right now it just deosn't fit. 

To get around this one of my priorities for the week is going to be to work on my scheduling. Writing everyday is great for me and I really enjoy it, but if I'm putting together posts that are never going to see the light of day I'm really just wasting my time. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Blake Lively

Grab your friends, where your florals

This is going to be a slightly different post than usual, but as a survivor of domestic abuse and sexual assault, I feel qualified to throw my two cents into the ring.

Disclaimer: I haven't seen It Ends With Us or read Coleen Hoover's book. But I've seen a lot of the media reports surrounding its promotion. Blake Lively's completely tone-deaf promotion of a movie about domestic abuse, which even included her shout-out to her hair care line, has become infamous across social media. This isn't a chick flick, it's a movie that centres around domestic violence and how it affects survivors. Domestic abuse can come in many forms, but from what I can tell from clips of the movie the film features a partner physically abusing Lively's character. 

Lively has been slammed for how she behaved during the movie's press tour. But instead of apologizing she has filed legal charges against director Justin Baldoni accusing him of "sexual harassment, retaliation, breach of contract, infliction of emotional distress [and] invasion of privacy". Baldoni's lawyers have responded with their own lawsuit accusing Lively and her husband Ryan Reynolds of defamation. 

Sadly, Baldoni is unlikely to win this case, Lively and Reynolds are arguably one of the world's richest and most famous couples and simply have more resources and public support. A surefire way to gain positive attention from the media is to accuse a man of sexual harassment. People automatically jump to defend the woman and the notion of innocent until proven guilty is thrown out the window. In response to Lively and Reynold's accusations,, Baldoni has released footage of the two dancing in a very intimate way, demonstrating the positive interactions between them. Lively has responded by attempting to file a gagging order against the director, preventing him from disclosing information to the media. Baldoni's team have called this an "intimidation tactic" and "tactical gamesmanship".

Also, why would you try to put a gagging order in place if you didn't have anything to hide? 

I was raped in my early twenties. I reported him to the police that night and he is now sleeping peacefully in prison. This ruined me. Pushing through the case took my degree, energy, confidence and time. I also lost a very good friend of mine and was unable to attend his funeral because it was the same day he was sentenced. It was the most draining and exhausting thing I have ever done and I did it as a student in her early twenties with an incurable mental illness and a severe drug addiction. Two things I am assuming that Lively does not have. 

Well, she might be a drug addict, some people hide these things better than others. 

My issue is this. Why did she wait so long to report him? Lively and her husband are one of the most powerful couples in the world, they had the money and resources to report him as soon as the alleged sexual harassment happened. But for some reason, they chose not to. 

I have absolutely no time for people who wait months or years to report sexual assault. I know there are exceptions, the only one I can think of is if the survivor is a minor, but if you're a full-grown adult you should step up and report the incident as soon as it happened. I initially didn't want to report the man that raped me, but thankfully immediately changed my mind. This small amount of hesitation still haunts me. And is one of the many, many things I feel guilty about about what happened that night. There is no excuse for weakness when it comes to keeping others safe. I was this man's eleventh offence, having raped and assaulted many, many women before me. If he'd been properly reported for these sexual offences, I wouldn't be in the position I am today. 

This is also my issue with the "Me Too" campaign, but that's a post for another day. 

My point is, that if Lively was so deeply damaged by Baldoni's behaviour, there is no excuse for waiting so long to report him. This is an attempt at defaming the director's character as a means of burying her tone-deaf promotion of the film. I have no time to read, listen to or hear tales of people's weakness, and someone with that much money and power has no excuse for behaving in such a manipulative way. If it wasn't reported straight away, I would suggest that it didn't happen at all. 

An unpopular opinion I know, but I've survived domestic, emotional and sexual abuse. My actions and strength make me more than qualified to express my opinions. 

Stay safe on the road

And don't get into cars with strangers. 

Jess

Sources below

https://www.pedestrian.tv/entertainment/blake-lively-federal-lawsuit-justin-baldoni/

https://www.pedestrian.tv/entertainment/justin-baldonis-team-website/

https://www.irishstar.com/culture/entertainment/justin-baldoni-blake-lively-case-34547369

https://www.news.com.au/entertainment/celebrity-life/explosive-it-ends-with-us-onset-video-casts-doubt-over-blake-lively-claims/news-story/87d443320b2674b5d08927d6ab077f6d

https://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/justin-baldoni-fires-back-blake-livelys-gag-order-attempt-calls-tactical-gamesmanship

https://medium.com/@mantillaryanl/-f1b9a502532e

My contraceptive journey

I first started taking the pill when I was 15. Not because I met my high-school sweetheart and wanted to bone before I was legal, but because my skin looked like shit. I started taking it early in an attempt to cure my acne and, from what I remember, it didn't help clear it up at all. But it was useful to have once I did start having sex. 

Even though condoms exist and my first boyfriend was terrified of knocking me up so he wrapped it up anyway. 

I've never had much luck with the pill. I tried countless varieties before I eventually stopped. Crippling cramps that once had me stuck crouching on the floor in pain at a train station. Nausea and dizziness that once convinced me I was pregnant and led to me having to take a pregnancy test in a Tesco public bathroom. I hated it, my body hated it and eventually, I gave up. 

Through my first couple of years at uni, I did my best to stay diligent with my condom use, with only a couple of visits to the doctor for the morning after pill. One accidental pregnancy, that I only found out about when I miscarried, later and I went back on the tablet of doom. 

I stayed on this for another few years until it really began to mess with my hormones. I once had to leave a lecture early because I was crying because my knees looked, and reached a level of anger at how orange a sign was that made my doctor's eyebrows shoot up when I told her. Between the two of use we decided that the pill really wasn't for me after all. 

The thing is, my medication is so strong it can cause birth defects, so going contraception-free wasn't an option. My doctor told me that the hormonal IUD was the best option and even though it was excruciatingly painful in the weeks that followed its insertion it eventually settled down and I had little to no trouble. 

Until it came to having it removed that is, that was not a pleasant experience.  

After my IUD was removed I went back to using condoms and the ill-advised pull-out method. I did think I was pregnant a couple of times because my period was late but, looking back, that was only because my ever-increasing drug use was causing my body to slowly shut down. Once I eased up on the drugs things returned to normal. 

I've tried the pill a couple more times since then, with terrible results. Not only can it impact my medication, it turns me into a hormonal mess that cries at the drop of a hat. My most recent venture into this method of contraception happened a couple of weeks ago in an attempt to fend off my boyfriend's bionic sperm. But after 3 days I was out. 

I've decided that the IUD is the best bet for me. I booked an appointment a few months ago but, inevitably, didn't go because I was too hungover. This time I was bamboozled into paying over the phone when the receptionist rang me just as I'd woken up. I've already dropped $300 on this thing and I have a further $40 to pay. I can't get out of it. 

I don't remember the insertion process too well and horror stories from other people have clouded my memory, but I'd rather that than risk having a baby. I hate children and my boyfriend already has three, I'd rather not add anymore to his collection. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

One Week Sober

Yes, you read that right, today marks my officially being 7 days sober from alcohol. 

And it's been a journey. 

As I've said previously, my first AA meeting was on January 14th. The first few days after my meeting went well and, other than a beer that I ordered, drank half of and put down, I managed to stay sober from Tuesday to Sunday. Monday, however, was a different story. I ended up crying to my boyfriend that I didn't want him to leave for four weeks and semi-blacking out. I felt awful, I felt like giving up, but Tuesday rolled around and, although I couldn't make it to my meeting due to a wicked bout of heat stroke, I continued on my sober journey. 

Alcohol has still been on my mind, I'm a bartender after all. It's tempting to stay for a drink after work when you've had a long day and on more than one occasion I've either been offered a beer or invited to another bar after I've locked up. I even said yes once, but after thinking about it I realised that wasn't what I really wanted, and that staying sober was more important. 

No one has really said anything when I've said that I'm not drinking. I've simply told them that I'm having my meds adjusted so I can't drink. The people I work with have a vague knowledge of my condition, some more than others, and understand that I take medication. In this respect I'm lucky, I can simply tell people why I'm saying no to a drink without them asking any more questions. One friend did call me a woose for not drinking, but giving in to peer pressure isn't my style. And even if it was, I'd rather be a sober woose than start drinking again. 

A few things have been helping me to stay sober. I've been going through an ungodly amount of gum to keep my mouth busy. If I can taste mint or I'm being distracted by chewing I don't want to drink. I've also been going straight home after work instead of hanging around for a drink. This has been made a lot easier because I've been closing the bar and have no money to go anywhere else afterwards. 

What's also been helpful is talking to someone from the meeting I attended. I messaged him to let him know that I wanted to be there but couldn't leave the house because I had heat stroke and he's been checking in when he can. I've also been letting him know when I've managed to avoid alcohol. As I have only told a couple of people that I attended an AA meeting, it's nice to talk to someone who understands the programme. I don't have to pretend to have stopped drinking just because of my medication when I talk to him, and the ability to be honest is really helping. 

I'm assuming, or maybe hoping, that I'll be honest about my AA journey one day. But for now, I'm happy to keep it to myself. It's not necessarily a secret, but I don't want people to joke about the idea of me getting sober. I've been drinking since I was 16, and even that was late compared to the people I drank with. It's going to take me a long time to get to the point where I can openly and honestly refuse alcohol, but it's a journey I want to go through in private. 

Stay safe, and sober, on the road.

Jess 

White Knuckle

I was supposed to go to my second AA meeting last Tuesday, I needed to go to my second AA meeting on Tuesday. But thanks to a particularly hideous bout of heat stroke I spent most of my day sweating, shaking and throwing up in the dark. It wasn't the greatest of days. 

The reason I needed to go so badly was that, for some reason, I thought I'd be able to white-knuckle my journey into sobriety without any support. Going to a meeting is one thing, but without support during the week, I was almost setting myself up for failure. I thought I could do it alone when this really wasn't the case. 

I did well between Tuesday and Sunday. I only had half a beer and was able to put it down, leave the pub and not be tempted to go back. Monday was different though. I'm under a lot of stress this week and all I could think about was having a drink. I eventually caved and ended up 10 drinks deep, crying to my boyfriend that I didn't want him to leave. It wasn't the most dignified of days. 

If I hadn't been out drinking on Monday, I wouldn't have gotten heat stroke and would have been able to attend a meeting Tuesday morning like I needed to. I felt stupid for drinking after making it 6 days but without support, it was almost impossible for me to make it through the whole week. I had no one to turn to when I couldn't get alcohol off of my mind.

I sent a message to the leader of the meeting saying I wouldn't be able to tend and he told me that I could always reach out. Because reaching out for help is better than reaching for a drink. The thing is, I suck at asking for help. I always have done. Yes being with my boyfriend has changed that and I'm slowly learning to open up and be honest about my feelings, but that isn't translating to every area of my life. 

I'm trying not to feel bad about having drunk on Monday. I'm not considering it to be a "relapse". Making the decision to stay sober is more important than slipping for a day, and I don't feel like I'm starting over. Everyone's journey towards sobriety is different, and I can't compare myself to other people. 

I'm very lucky in that, unlike my cocaine addiction, I'm not physically dependent on alcohol. I don't experience any forms of withdrawal other than mental withdrawal and an all-consuming focus on alcohol. I'm also lucky in that I can identify what my problem with alcohol is. I don't need to drink every day, I can stay away and put a glass of beer down. What I do struggle with is binge drinking, and I need to work out why this is as I move forward. While I'm doing that I'm going to focus on my reasons for staying sober. What I will gain when I learn to put down the bottle, and how much better my life is going to be as I move forward. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Weekend woes

It's not that I don't want to write today. It's that I don't know what to write about. This week has been very draining, and long. I'm making progress on my sobriety and my writing but I'm still struggling with feelings of self-hatred, and I'm not really sure why. 

Part of it is how I feel about my body. People have been commenting that I've lost weight, which makes me want to lose more weight. I've always struggled with the scales, which is why I don't own them. But when I found out my weight after not weighing myself for years when I was at the hospital I felt miserable and insecure. I know that part of my problem is comparing myself to how much I weighed when I was at the height of my eating disorder or addiction, a headspace I never want to return to, but deep down the desire to be thin is still there. 

This is also exacerbated by my mother's eating disorder, which was the main cause of mine. I'll talk about the origins of my eating problems in another post, but there has always been competition and jealousy between me and my mother when it comes to our weight. Now she's relapsed and is at the thinnest I've seen her in years, I can't help asking myself why she gets to be thin and I don't. 

Another part of it is that the parole hearing for the man that raped me has been scheduled for next month. I'm not planning on it going ahead, it has been repeatedly rescheduled since 2022. However, the fact that it's been scheduled countless times and has been hanging over my head since 2021 is very draining. This man has been clouding my life since I was 22, I need this to stop now.

On the off chance that is does go ahead next month, there is another problem. I'll be alone. My boyfriend doesn't get back until the following week and I want him to be here with me. I'm tired of trying to be understanding about our current situation, I will always be my priority. I know his ex-girlfriend needs him right now and so do his children. But I need him too and I want him here to support me. 

On the subject of his ex-girlfriend, she now knows I exist. Isn't that what you wanted? I hear you ask. Yes, that's exactly what I wanted. But I wanted her to know we were a couple. I didn't want him to tell her we were "hanging out" and that we "have dinner often". If anything I think this hurt more than when she didn't know. It's starting to get to me more and more now. Why is he ashamed of me? Why is he keeping me a secret? My insecurities are closing in and all I can think of is Dan Levy's line from the 2020 movie Happiest Season "You deserve someone who shouts their love for you from the rooftops". I really do, and I don't want to feel like he's hiding me anymore. 

I've also had Dirty Little Secret by the All American Rejects playing on a loop in my head for the past 3 weeks.

I also accidentally led to someone getting fired last night. The person I was on shift with told me he had another job to go to so I told him to go. His clocking off left me on shift on my own and we were incredibly busy. This wouldn't have been a problem, people can fucking wait, but my boss was there having a drink and he stuck his ore in. After finding out he left to go to his next job he was promptly fired, but my boss got snarky with me for telling him to leave. I can't control if someone is unable to manage their time properly, he shouldn't have agreed to work a shift if he had to be somewhere else. He even told me he assumed it would be quiet. I also can't control whether or not someone gets fired, I'm just a duty manager after all, but even though my assistant manager told me not to worry about what my boss was saying, I still feel like I fucked up.

Although losing him wasn't the worst thing in the world, he was pretty fucking shit at his job. He also has three others so I'm 99% sure he'll be okay. 

My friend also owes me $200 and I'm on my period so that's not helping either. 

There we have it, my thoughts for the day. Not the happiest but I've got 6 hours before my shift starts so hopefully I can perk up before then. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Missing the excitement

My life used to be exciting. And by exciting I of course mean really fucking dangerous. Riding on the back of a stranger's moped through the rain in Paris? Done it. Dancing barefoot to Chelsea Dagger on stage at a gig before running around central London trying to find my drug dealer? Done it. Moving across the world for a man I've known for three days? Done it. If it's spontaneous, stupid and can give me an unwarranted feeling of euphoria that lasts about three and a half minutes then the chance is I've given it a go at some point. But now the most terrifying thing I do is talk about my feelings. 

And trust me, I'd pick having sex with a stranger in Berlin in exchange for cocaine any day of the week. 

But that's a post for another day.

I miss how easy being a drug addict is, but I also miss how exciting it is. The anxiety and anticipation I'd feel walking up to my dealer was unparalleled. Searching eagerly for a public bathroom to do a line in in the middle of a shopping centre fed me. I'd even find it funny if I heard other people snorting lines in the stall next to me, knowing I'd been doing the exact same thing. There's an element of fun and thrill that comes with using drugs, even when you get to the stage where you physically can't cope without them. And now I've stopped using cocaine, the list of things that give me that level of excitement has shrunk.

Part of me is scared that losing this excitement is a symptom of growing older and wanting to feel that thrill again makes me childish. I'm always a bit scared of being seen as childish, but BPD loves to fuck with your self-perception. I don't want to lose the exciting part of my life by getting older and sober, because I don't want to live a boring life. Part of me feels pathetic and like I'm trying to hold onto my past, but I need excitement. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that, 

It could be that I'm comparing myself to other people my age. People in their thirties tend to have kids, marriages, mortgages, and careers. I live alone in a studio apartment and work as a bartender while I'm getting my writing career back on track. I've only now, at 32 years old, entered into my first stable relationship. And I have friends who are divorced. 

Not that I'd want that but that's besides the point. 

I don't want that life, I don't want a marriage, mortgage or children. But I know I need the stability to manage my BPD and stay drug-free. I just don't know how to find the balance between living an exciting life and leading a life that could immediately end after one bad choice. I'm not used to wanting to live, and I don't always want to live. But I haven't actively wanted to commit suicide in a very long time, so it seems maybe I'll be here longer than I thought. 

I just don't want the time I'm here to be boring. 

Stay safe on the road 

Jess

Insecurities

I'm feeling very insecure today. My boyfriend being away with his ex while she has his baby is hitting me harder than I thought. He obviously has to be there, I would think he was a total dick if he wasn't. But she still doesn't know I exist and that stings. I know it's not the case but I still feel like he's keeping me a secret and it's making me feel like he's ashamed of me. I know he's not but it doesn't stop the niggling voice in my head from telling me that he is. I get why he hasn't told her, he wants to get the stress of his daughter being born out of the way before he lets her know but I would feel a hell of a lot better if she 

Also, I'm not overly jazzed about the fact that he's with her. I'm not jealous of her as a person, for the most part, I love who I am and I know he'd be with her if he wanted to be. If you can take my man you can have him and I know he doesn't want that. 

But dude even I have my limits on how understanding I can be. 

Another thing I'm feeling insecure about it my career. I just want to write, it makes me happy, calms my down and fixes each and every problem in my head. Finding new work has been difficult though. The market has changed and there are skills I just don't have. I know this is an opportunity for learning and I want to learn, but going back to the constant cycle of what feels like begging people to let me work for them. The only job vacancy I've had a response from has sent me a writing task to do and I don't like working for free. I know beggars can't be choosers but my portfolio exists for a reason. I've done a lot of unpaid work in the past and I've put the work in. By working for free I'm telling people I don't value myself and the content I produce. I know I'm not currently making any money from my blog, but my blog is for me and me alone. 

Very few industries require you to work for free when you're trying to secure a job. And sadly I work in both of them. 

And once again there's also a money issue. I have $17 in my bank account and may have to pay back a charge fee which would make my account over drawn and cost me at least another $45. The reason for my lack of funds is a combination of not being paid properly and being bamboozled into paying $150 to have my IUD fitted next month so I have no control over the situation and I will get the money back. But for god's sake can I just not be poor for one week?

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Pushing through

I'm feeling defeated today. My wages have been wrong two weeks in a row so I'm short on funds, my Upwork account has been blocked which means I'm not able to apply for freelance jobs and the site I intended to use to teach me Photoshop didn't have any local tutors. My boyfriend also left to spend four weeks with his ex-girlfriend yesterday and I'm back to wondering if I'm "allowed" to message him while he's away. 

In short, my confidence isn't at its highest. 

I know these feelings will pass. That I need to push through them and feeling defeated is part and parcel when working in the creative industry. Whatever part of the industry you work in you need to have thick skin. There are always going to be set-backs, you will always going to hit walls, and I know that I need to push through. I'm just struggling to see where my next steps should be. 

Starting off with being paid incorrectly, there's really nothing I can do about this. It's out of my hands and I'm just waiting for HR and payroll to get their shit together. I spoke to my best friend and he said that it's not such a long wait given that I get paid weekly. But when you get paid such a low amount each week and have so much debt, even a few days without correct pay makes any difference. 

All I can do in this situation is keep chasing it up. I know my boss is doing her best to fix it and I'll keep checking in where I can. I was told I'd get my pay rise and back pay this week but I didn't. Hopefully, I get it next week, but if not I know I will get the correct wage and the back pay that I have missed, eventually. I just have to be patient. 

Not exactly my forte but I can try.

Next up is my Upwork account being blocked. I've asked their online support system multiple times without any luck but finally managed to file a claim this morning. Upwork is the only platform I've been using to search for writing work, and if anything my account being frozen should push me to explore other sources. I can't just rely on one platform to help me find work, so I need to see this as the push I need to widen my search.

The third problem is my failed attempt at finding a Photoshop tutor on Superprof. It seemed like the best avenue to take and I even found a tutor in Darwin. Or so I thought. Turns out he moved and didn't change my address and no matter how many times I messaged him he still wasn't paying attention to what I was saying. I need to learn Photoshop to expand my skill set and make myself more employable. Marketing and advertising jobs aren't just about writing anymore and I need to have a wider range of skills. What I was really looking for was a face-to-face tutor, but in such a small city I don't know if that's going to be possible. The next step on this front would be to download Photoshop and do it the old fashioned way, by spending hours searching YouTube for videos I can understand and trying to teach myself. It's going to take a while and I know it's not going to be easy for me to pick up, but I have a lot of time on my hands while my boyfriend is away and I really need the distraction. 

The last one I really can't control and I'm just going to have to get on with things. He's having a baby with another woman, this really isn't something I can control. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Caring

Today my boyfriend leaves Darwin for 4 weeks while his ex-girlfriend has his baby. 

My issue with him travelling across the country to have a baby with another woman is that she doesn't know about me. I've been getting angry, pushing back and altogether making things about me (strange I know) when he's the one about to have a new baby. 

At first, I thought it was because I thought they were going to get back together. This thought was fleeting. If anything was going to make them give their relationship another go it would be having another baby.  Also, they sleep together because you aren't allowed to have sex until 6 weeks after having a baby. 

I just googled it to confirm that it was the same for C-sections. It is. Don't judge me. 

Then I thought it was because I was afraid he was ashamed of me. I've had multiple times where people I've been have wanted to keep me a secret or just pretended I don't exist. My mum's brother-in-law doesn't write my name on his Christmas cards and it's never even been mentioned to him. A guy in high school told me to not tell his friends he liked me. I even had a guy tell me not to tell someone we slept together while he was inside me. Even though this was over a decade ago it still reminds me that at certain parts of my life, people have wanted to keep me hidden. 

This morning I have realised that it's neither of those things. 

I'm worried he'll forget about me and not want to be with me when he gets back. 

Unsurprisingly, as a result of my BPD, I have an all-consuming and painful fear of abandonment. I'm terrified of people leaving me even if I know they're not good for me. This is why I spend so much time in shitty relationships. But now I'm in a functional relationship.

Yes, I am aware that it's a little odd that my definition of a functional relationship involves my boyfriend having a baby with another woman. But for me this is good. 

Anyway, I'm realising that how I'm feeling has nothing to do with him and really is all about me after all. I completely trust him, but my self-esteem is so low that I believe that a month spent away from me will cause him to forget about me. To stop loving me. And this just isn't the case. 

I am so used to volatile and abusive relationships that I find it impossible to believe that I could ever be in anything even remotely resembling a healthy one. To me, healthy is what scares me. In the same way that my journey away from addiction is making me afraid of existing, I'm afraid of being in a safe and secure relationship. I miss the chaos every day and consider my life to be incredibly boring without it, but I know that it being gone is a good thing. 

I don't have to rely on volatility anymore. I can finally relax. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Love you, hate you

 As I mentioned in a previous post, my mum is anorexic. She's had periods of recovery but for the most part, she has been sick for the past 20 years. It might even have been longer than that, but that's when I started to notice. 

At first, I was jealous. Jealous that she was thinner than me. She'd give me her old clothes that were too big for her, pay me to lose weight and sent me to Weight Watchers before I could drive. We fought constantly over food. Over who ate what or how much the other person was eating. A particularly vicious argument over an apricot danish led to her telling me to stick my fingers down my throat. A bout of tears over my weight gain once my body lost its ability to starve itself and I resorted to binge eating was a catalyst for "you've got to stop eating, that's the bottom line". 

We'd subtly brag to each other about how thin we were by sticking receipts from the scales at the local drug store to the fridge. 9 stone, 8 stone 7, 8 stone. The numbers went down but her's were always lower than mine. I was desperate to be thin. To be thinner than her. To win. 

After my initial bout of jealousy came worry. Fear. She got sicker and sicker and I obsessed over what she was eating. Not because I wanted to eat less, but because she wasn't eating anything. She got thinner and thinner and eventually had to be hospitalised due to chest pains. Her body was eating itself but she was still in denial. She came home that evening but I'll never be able to forget the image of her standing in her room, bone thin and frail, crying over the pain she was putting herself through. 

After than came a brief period of recovery where she actively attempted to gain weight and since then my own eating problems have lessened. Aside from a few relapses at university and during the heights of my addiction, I maintain a pretty functional relationship with food and my body. I'm still afraid of doing any sedentary work, and my desire to quit drinking is deeply rooted in a desire to maintain my weight. I also love when people tell me I look thinner. It's a dopamine hit like no other. 

This has changed over the past few months. My mum is very, very ill and once again won't admit it. Bone thin, suffering from arthritis in her feet and unable to walk without a cane, she's still running multiple 5 Ks a week. She's obsessed, it's all she talks about and she's in complete denial over her food and body issues. I'm over worrying at this point though, I no longer care if she wants to hurt herself. I'm angry, and back to being jealous. 

I make a point of not weighing myself. Having reached low points of running off to the chemist in the middle of work to weigh myself and constantly checking for a thigh gap, I've realised absolutely no happiness can come from using, or even owning scales and so I avoid them at all costs. I close my eyes at doctors' appointments, step backwards onto medical scales and ask people not to tell me how much I weigh if they need to know my weight. 

A request that was completely ignored when I was being prepped for surgery. Now my obsession with my weight is returning. Why does she get to be thin but I don't? Why could she fully have anorexia and I couldn't? Why am I not thinner than her? 

 

Dating difficulties

This week my boyfriend leaves Darwin for a month to have a baby with his ex-girlfriend. Amazingly, it's not as odd as it seems as she got pregnant pretty much as they were breaking up, which was a good 8 months before the two of us got together. Still, it's a situation I never thought I'd find myself in. 

People around me have been very vocal about how they feel about my new relationship. I knew he had two daughters with this woman already and that was enough for people to throw their two cents into the ring. Ironically the person I got the most kickback from was a divorced friend of mine who also has a kid with his ex-wife. But I feel that was more of a transference issue. Once I found out he was having another baby all hell broke loose. 

Some people called it baggage, some called it over the top. My mother even described it as "dead in the water". If anything this comment made me want to date him more because my mother has the worst taste in men since the woman who married Ted  Bundy. Others were really happy for me. My aunty reminded me that I'm of the age where people are going to have children and, as my friend Lillie said, better to have kids than be a psycho. Both these people are married and in what I can only assume to be happy relationships. It's the people who appear to be struggling romantically that have a bee in their bonnet. 

I'm not saying this situation is not without its flaws. I have felt quite insecure about the whole thing, particularly as he hasn't told his ex-girlfriend that I exist. However, as much as I make everything in the world about me, in this instance, I have to admit that it's not. I'm not the one giving birth, she is. I'm not the one about to have a new daughter, he is. And I can fully understand why he wants to wait until after the child is born to tell her about me, particularly as she's due in less than a week. 

I've reminded him that no matter when he tells her there could be a reaction. She may be annoyed that he didn't tell her about me before she had the baby, she may be annoyed that he entered into a relationship with someone else while she was pregnant with his child. She also might not give a shit. There's no way of knowing how another person is going to react. Although I'm 86-ing the "especially when they've just had a baby" idea. If mental illness is no excuse for being an asshole, neither are hormones. 

Would I prefer if this wasn't happening? Yes. Would I rather he wasn't going to be thousands of miles away for the next 4 weeks while he spends time with his new baby? Also yes. These next few weeks are going to be tough, I've never been in any form of long-distance relationship before and I understand that he will be incredibly busy and under a lot of stress. But I trust him. I love him. And if he was the kind of guy to abandon the mother of his children and not want to be there for the birth of his child, I don't know if I'd want to be with him in the first place. 

Plus it takes the pressure off of if he did want children because I find the things revolting. 

Stay safe on the road

(and use a condom)

Jess

What to say when you have nothing to say

A friend who is also a writer once posted on Instagram that, even if you don't want to write, it's important to do it anyway. Writing is like a muscle, and exercising it every day is important. 

I don't feel amazing today. There's nothing specifically wrong but I've had a lot of side-effects from being on antibiotics for so long and I'm covered in fungal acne and have had really bad thrush for weeks. I had sex last night so painful I nearly cried and I'm altogether fed up with what comes along with long-term antibiotic use. Combine that with my fear of the two bills I have coming up towards the end of the month and I'm really just feeling out of sorts. 

The main issue is the bills I have to pay. I say bills, one of them is a bar tab and I did attempt to go and pay it but I had problems with my debit card so I'm going to try and pay it again later on today. The other is a credit card direct debit that I'm more than capable of paying but am still nervous about missing the deadline. If I could pay the direct debit today I would, but the credit card company is in England, so I can't call them until Monday. There is no chance of these bills going unpaid, but I'm still uncomfortable having them. 

As a recovering addict, every penny I had at the height of my addiction went on drugs and alcohol. What didn't went on "treating" myself to things I instantly regretted afterwards or ordering take-out when I felt unable to cook. Regardless of what I did, where I worked or how much money I brought home each month, I was still completely broke. 

Because of this, as I've said before, actually having money makes me scared. I don't like it. I'm so used to it not being there that I feel stressed and uncomfortable when it is. I feel like I don't deserve it and constantly worry about its existence. Only when my bank balance is close to zero can I relax. 

Thinking about it, a way of getting around this could be returning to a cash-envelope system I used. I started it last January and it worked pretty well until I stopped making the effort and began making excuses not to do it, but I think I'll give it another try. If my bills are paid but my bank balance is still zero, maybe the stress headache sitting on my eyebrows will go away. I'll be able to have money and relax. 

I think this is what my friend meant when she said it's important to write even when you don't feel like it. 10 minutes tapping away at the keys and I feel calm again. Now all I have to do is find an ATM. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess 

AA

This week I went to my first AA meeting, and I'm honestly not sure how I feel about it. 

Obviously, I was late. I actually left my apartment on time but my sense of direction combined with the fact that my phone is from the post office meant that I snuck in at 12:30, instead of the indicated start time of 12:00pm. Luckily, no one cared. 

I was more impressed that I made it there at all. I was in an incredibly self-destructive mood that morning and just wanted to spend my afternoon self-harming or asleep. 

I thought that as long as I left the house that would be enough. Then I thought, as long as I find the building it would be enough. Right up until I found the entrance to the meeting room I was telling myself the efforts I'd made so far had been enough and I could go home. I nearly turned around and left after trying the wrong entrance, but I eventually found the right one and walked in. Part of me wanted it to be the wrong place or for them to tell me it was too late to sit down. Instead, someone pulled out a chair for me. 

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The only semi-realistic depiction of AA meetings is from watching Mom on Amazon Prime, and it was incredibly accurate. People sat in a circle, there were snacks and there were quotes on the wall. People shared their stories about the weekly topic, I shared about how I felt and then an old lady hugged me and offered me her phone number at the end. There was even hand-holding. 

That I was less of a fan of. 

What shocked me the most was that I wasn't afraid. I went there, said a few words, ate a couple of biscuits and left. I could have gone for a drink afterward, there are even beers in my boyfriend's apartment, but all I really wanted was a can of Diet Coke. 

The irony of that is not lost on me. 

I'm going to another meeting when I can. There's one on Thursdays that I can make it to this week and hopefully, I'll have Tuesday morning off next week so I can go again. It didn't make me feel like a massive drunk, it didn't make me want to drink, I just felt proud of myself for going. 

Which I guess is good enough. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Lies I've told myself

I always say I don't lie to others, mostly because I can't. I'm a terrible liar. Any time I try to lie it's completely unbelievable and so at this point I've just stopped trying. Sadly, this makes me liable to believe other people's lies, but it's easier for me to just be honest.

Doesn't always work out well, but I have the right intentions. 

Thing is though, I've noticed that over the years I've been lying to myself. Telling myself that I'm safe, happy and healthy when really I'm talking utter nonsense. So here's a list of the lies I've told myself to convince myself I'm okay. 

I'm not an addict. 

This is a classic one. For years I convinced myself that I didn't have a problem with drugs and alcohol. I went to my first AA meeting this week and I've recognised that I've been a cocaine addict over the past few years. I told myself I didn't have a problem with drugs or alcohol, telling myself that I could put it down and walk away and that my addictions weren't taking over my life. It wasn't attending my AA meeting that finally made me admit I had a problem with drinking, but instead being tired of my own shit. 

He loves me 

My ex used to beat the shit out of me. I loved him so much and wanted so badly to be with him but when he drank he would hit me. Obviously, he denied it, saying he didn't remember or that it wasn't an issue. The first time he attacked me was my 29th birthday and I spent the next day looking after him because he had a fever. Even my drug dealer, who was also a pimp, told me I didn't deserve it. When a pimp is telling you you're being treated badly you know things are bad. 

Even after we'd broken up I convinced myself he loved me. I remember crying, staring at myself in the mirror and telling myself that even though he insulted and hit me, he still loved me. News flash Jessica, the people who love you don't hit you. 

I'm happy

In all fairness, this did evolve into "I love you, but I'm not happy" but at first I told myself I was happy. I was in two back-to-back abusive relationships and even though my most recent ex didn't hit me, the constant insults, shouting and screaming wore me down. I told him I'd missed him once and he told me he felt like I was obsessed with him and that he didn't find that attractive. He got drunk and peed in our bed one night and called me a cunt. I told myself over and over that I was happy in that relationship, mostly because I wanted other people to believe it too, but looking back his constant insults, shouting and screaming was worse than being hit. Towards the end I think I was only trying to convince myself I was happy because we lived together. I had nowhere else to go. 

Incidentally, he ended up breaking up with me and I had to move out but that's beside the point. 

We're not a couple

I am the queen of situationships, and once ended up in one that lasted about 3 and a half years. We met on Tinder and by our third date he'd told me he just wanted something casual. It sucked at first but I was in my early twenties and casual dating for millennials was in vogue. It was to be expected. 

What wasn't expected was that I'd spend all my time there, sleep over whenever I could and take him to a dinner party. I went with him to his friends' houses on more than one occasion. This went on for an ungodly amount of time. We repeatedly said we were just friends and I constantly told myself and people around me that we weren't a couple. It only ended when he got a girlfriend. 

Not the worse thing, because it had to end eventually. But it's been 8 years and I still have no idea who his friends thought I was. Who takes their fuck buddy with them to social events? 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Financial fear

I get paid every Tuesday, and it absolutely terrifies me. A ridiculous thing to be afraid of, but it's fear that is still there. 

It's still there because I'm so used to not having money. I currently have less than $15 in my bank account and that's very relaxing for me. I'm used to it not being there, so when it is I don't know how to react. 

This has a lot to do with the fact that I feel as if I don't deserve to have money. I have spent thousands upon thousands of dollars on drugs over the past 13 years and I have nearly $2,000 of credit card debt. Not a huge amount when you consider other people's credit card debts, but a big chunk of change all the same. 

Another issue with this fear is that I have limited access to this credit card account. It's a UK account and I can only access it by getting an authorization code sent to my mum's phone number. A phone number I can only send details to when she's awake and she lives in England. This puts the financial power in my mum's hands. She's been paying the minimum payments of my credit card for a long time and, even though I have no access to the card, the balance still doesn't seem to be coming down. 

I want to deal with it myself, but technology makes it difficult. 

This is a very easy problem to fix but because the balance of my credit card is so high and I have to contact my mum to get around this issue I feel ashamed. Once again if my credit card gets paid I technically have money and that's what I'm afraid of. 

It's a very strange and irritating cycle to be in. I'll work it out eventually. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess 

*UPDATE* Since I wrote this I've contacted my credit card company, changed the access details so I no-longer need to contact my mum to open my account details and set up a monthly direct debit that will have my debt payed off by June. Not as difficult as I thought it would be once I got down to it. 

Addiction, part one

 Aside from a post on Instagram I've kept my past addiction issues private on the internet, for fear of my family seeing them. In the past couple of days I realized that not only are they very unlikely to see it given that no one really reads my blog, I also have limited interest in my mother's opinion of me since her recent anorexia relapse. 

I first took drugs when I was 17, starting with a line of ketamine at a house party my boyfriend was dj-ing at. It wasn't awful, it wasn't amazing, but it started what can only be described as my love of sticking things up my nose. After that my use of ketamine increased and I found myself drowning in k-holes, getting friends to pick up for me before nights out and passing out in public bathrooms after snorting an entire line in one sitting. 

After dabbling in ketamine for a couple of years a friend of mine gave me a line of cocaine and, to be honest, I was pretty indifferent to it. Yes it got me high, but it wasn't as amazing of an experience as I thought it would be. I could take it or leave it.

The next time was different. 

Snorting another line at a club in my home town, the part of my brain affected by cocaine caught fire. It was the best thing I'd ever felt and I'd soon find myself progressing to full blown drug use. 

In comparison to the highs of my addiction, my initial use didn't seem that bad when in reality I was already in deep. My drug use escalated quickly and I would have to go home from college to sneak a line in between classes and found myself stealing from my brother to buy drugs. I was already in too deep.

Even when I had no access to cocaine I still needed to get high, returning to ketamine and dabbling in MDMA. A brief dalliance with speed soon followed, and was further exacerbated by my eating disorder and all-consuming need to be thin. I saw speed as a gateway to emaciation, and I researched the possibilities for hours on end. Soon however, I returned to my drug of choice. 

They talk about hitting "rock bottom" in addiction and a brief arrest for possession of cocaine could have thrown me to the ground. One "intervention" from my parents could have opened my eyes to the path that I was taking, but instead I left the restaurant they had taken me too and went straight to my dealer. Despite the youth of my addiction, I was already too far gone. 

Although I still returned to ketamine, MDMA and speed when I had no access to my drug of choice, cocaine was all I cared about. 

I first attempted to stop using at university, addiction cursing through my body after only a few months. Thing is, misery loves company, and I soon found people with similar histories of drug use and we fell into patterns of helping each other get high. I had yet to be diagnosed with my condition at this time and used cocaine to feel happy, to feel content, to feel anything at all. I remember finding myself lying on the floor after a particularly long binge, only to sit up and do another line. Picking crumbs of my euphoria off of the floor, I could see that drugs were taking over my life, I just couldn't see that I had a problem. 

However, after years of juggling drug dealers, meeting fellow users with the ability to put down the rolled notes in their hands and spending every penny I had on getting high, nothing could prepare me for how bad my drug use would get after I was raped.

But that's a story for another day. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Finding the problem

I'm lying in bed at the moment feeling like a bit of a fraud. It's hot, I've done everything I want to do for the day and I really want to go to the pub for a beer but I know it's a bad idea. I also have greasy hair, no clean underwear and awful thrush. It's an easy fix but it's one I'm resisting all the same. 

I'm feeling like a fraud because even though I've told myself that it's okay to completely start my writing career from the beginning, it feels like the experience I had never happened at all. I'm a good writer and have been working in my field for a long time, but if I don't get paid for my work I feel like it's not really work. I feel as if I'm not really a writer if I'm not being hired by someone to create content for them. Part of me knows that it doesn't matter if I'm paid or not for doing what I do as long as I keep at it, but the other part feels as if I'm not really a writer if I'm not on some form of payroll. 

It also comes down to the fact that no one reads my work. I left Facebook a couple of months ago because I was sick of seeing pictures of friends getting engaged, married or pregnant when I was working in the same field I had been in since I was in my early twenties. I'm fully aware that everything on social media is fake, but the constant reminder that I feel like I'm miles behind where I should be wasn't making me feel any better. Because of this, I don't have a Facebook page to promote my blog on, although if I remember rightly my posts kept getting blocked when I tried to promote them in the past. The point is I feel like a failure because no one is reading my work, but I'm not sure how to promote it. That's another easy fix, I just need to learn. 

The other issue is that the skill set required to find writing jobs has changed and developed since I last wrote for a living. I love words, and I'm good with words, but the vast majority of jobs that I have been finding now require you to have some photography, Photoshop or design experience and I just don't have any. I don't know if it works the other way around if designers are being asked for content writing experience, but it's something else I need to learn and I don't know where to start. Once again, another easy fix. 

It's easy to dig your heels in when there are a million small reasons not to do something but eventually the problem needs to be addressed. I don't feel driven or successful unless someone is reading my work, but I don't have the skills or experience that are now needed to promote my work or make it more suitable for the current job market. The creative industry is always evolving and nothing makes me happier than being a writer. But I feel like I'm not really a writer if no one reads what I have to say. I feel like I'm just saying it and that it's not really true.

Everything that I'm feeling right now is an easy fix. All I need to do is wash my hair, put my laundry on the line so I have clean underwear for tomorrow and look for some online classes, but the eternal weight of money is also hanging over me. Do I have to be paid for my work for it to be valid? Does money have to exchange hands for my career to be viable? I've done enough unpaid work in my time to know that that's not been the case in the past, but things have changed and I now value my talents more than I used to. 

I'm glad I picked January to refresh my thoughts, actions and attitudes towards my career, but the path I'm taking is proving to be a lot different than I thought it would be. Luckily my new boyfriend has turned me into a morning person, and unsurprisingly I'm getting a lot more done when I wake up at 7am instead of 2pm. I know what I need to do to restart my career as a writer and I know exactly how I'm going to do it, sometimes I just need to read my words myself to see what I really have to do.

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Mother dearest

My mother is anorexic and has been since I was a teenager. She skips meals, limits what she eats, and tries every trick in the book to convince herself and the people around her that she's healthy. In the whole time I've known her to be ill she's sought help once, a venture that proved fruitless because she soon ended up being hospitalised. 

She's had periods of health during this time, but none that have lasted very long. Anorexia is a very manipulative disease and those who suffer will do anything they can to gaslight you into thinking that there's nothing wrong. Her most recent one is sending me photos of the food she's about to eat, when I know full well the meal will hardly be touched. 

Recently things have gotten worse. She broke up with her boyfriend and one of the ways he squirmed his way back into her life was by joning her on a Couch to 5K programme. Since they've gotten back together her obsession with running has only increased. I call her and she's distracted by buying gym wear online, she boasts about her personal bests and even took part in a running event when she visited my brother at university. She's bone thin, and all she can say that she's is that she's the best shape of her life. 

It's not just her weight loss that's the problem this time, it's over-exercising. Something that she's never done before. I can handle symptoms that I'm used to, what I can't handle is things I haven't experienced before. Arthritis runs in our family and she's recently developed severe pain in her feet. She's been visiting the doctors and having multiple tests but she hasn't stopped running. She's so frail she had to hold on to my brother when they walked around his university town and she currently uses a walking stick. Sadly, however, she's still running. 

I've tried to find resources for children of parents with eating disorders, but they don't seem to exist. Support for the parents and caregivers of anorexics is abundant online, but I've been unable to find anything for when the situation is reversed. I attempted to join an over eaters anonymous group but was told I could only attend a Zoom meeting to "understand" the disease. I do understand eating disorders, I had one myself for years. What I can't understand is how I'm meant to deal with hers. 

If I'm honest, I'm over being worried about her. If she wants to starve herself to death then be my guest. What I am feeling is a combination of anger and jealousy. The jealousy part I will talk about in another post but the anger is pretty self explanatory. She's 65 years old, she needs to get her shit together. 

My brother even told me he'd suggested to his dad that she go to therapy. He simply told him she's not ready. It's been 20 years, I think we're passed ready by now. 

Aside from being incredibly manipulative anorexics believe themselves to be excellent liars. I took her to one of my therapy sessions once and she lied through her teeth. There is no accountability when it comes to this disease, and I am so over watching her manipulate the people around her for the sake of being thin. There's no being sympathetic, empathetic or understanding here. I'm over it. And I'm over watching my mum kill herself for the sake of a lower number on a scale. 

Stay safe on the road 

Jess

Starting over

I haven't worked as a writer since COVID-19. After a nasty breakup that led to homelessness and an increase in my active drug addiction (to be explained later), I lost clients, drive and confidence in my capabilities. 

This was three years ago, and I'm ready to return to my profession as a freelance writer. I love being a bar manager and will never fully leave hospitality, but it is time for me to regain my confidence and remember what I really do. 

At the same time, a friend from back home has quit teaching and started working as a full-time photographer again. This man is insanely talented and one of my best friends, and a discussion with him helped me realise that returning to my creative path is not as scary as it seems. 

Given that I haven't worked in my field for three years now, I can't realistically expect my skills and abilities to be as honed as they once were. On the other hand, my progression through my active addiction means that I am able to utilise my time better and my brain is working at a better capacity. I am no-longer consumed by my addiction, and can focus my time more on what I love. 

Another friend has also inspired my to return to my career. Once an addict herself, she is now sober, working as a writing coach and has recently released her first novel. I know that the word inspirational gets thrown around a lot, but seeing that people like me can heal, move forward and achieve the goals they have always meant to fill has reassured me, and I now know that I can return to the career I've always worked towards. 

At the same time I have recently entered into a relationship that is making me incredibly happy. It's not without it's problems and difficulties, but at the age of 32 I need to stop pretending that other people have had lives before they met me. A friend of mine described it as baggage, which I don't agree with. But if other people's history counts as baggage then I have a lot of baggage too. 

Although I am incredibly happy in my relationship, past experience has taught me that I need to put my career first. For too long I have held the person I have been dating on a pedestal because I thought I was lucky to be with them as I didn't deserve them. Don't get me wrong I am very lucky to be with my boyfriend, but he is equally as lucky to be with me. I may be a bar manager and a girlfriend, but I am a writer first and foremost. 

Testiment to how easily my return to writing has been, my fingers have been flying over this blog post and it has taken me less than 10 minutes to produce. Although I still need to work on the logistics of promoting my content and develop my skills in digital design, I am more than happy to be back, so prepare for more content on travel, mental health and how I'm navigating my life outside of active addiction. 

Stay safe on the road, 

Jess

What you owe

It's a painful truth to accept but in any and every area of your life, no one owes you anything. You aren't owed success, empathy, forgiveness or acceptance. And that can be a hard one to get your head around. 

I'm trying to remind myself of this as I spend my day writing before work. I'm searching for remote work and, although I have found finding work easier in the past, this just isn't the case right now. I'm not signed up to any freelance agencies, I don't even know if there are any freelance agencies in Darwin, and I'm not being sent briefs to work on weekly by an external company. In short, things aren't that easy at the moment. 

I'm also having to face up to this in my journey towards getting sober. It's a sad but true fact that addicts are arseholes. We are not good people and are likely to hurt those around us and push them away. When you only care about getting high you don't realise how you are influencing those around you. 

I have been trying to reach out and apologise to people I have hurt during my time as an addict, but not everyone is as forthcoming with acceptance as I would like them to be. Some people have been great, thanking me for my apology, others not so much. 

The ones that haven't responded the way I wanted them to haven't responded at all. I am aware that they don't have to and that they are well within their rights to not want to talk to me anymore. Even though I'm doing my best to change, no one is obligated to forgive me. Some people I don't really care if I talk to them again, in all honesty, there was at least one person I was apologising to as a formality. But others I really miss. 

One of the sad parts about getting sober is that not everyone is going to forgive you for how you behaved and how you treated them when you were an addict. Noone is blameless, and I've found it easy to get angry at people who turned their back on me when I needed the most support or who treated me badly themselves. Just because I'm working through this journey of apologising for my past actions doesn't mean everyone is going to be okay with that, and not everyone is on a similar journey of their own. I want the people I hurt to forgive me but sometimes they just don't, and I'm going to have to get used to that. 

On the other hand, you also don't owe anyone anything. Yes, I have been taking time to say sorry to people that I've hurt in the past, but it's not essential. I want to, but I don't need to and I don't have to feel guilty for not doing something I don't want to do. I'm reminding myself that, although I'm on a journey towards sobriety, it's my journey and I can take whatever path I choose. Drugs, alcohol and borderline personality disorder may have controlled my actions in the past, but now it's my turn. And I'm going to do everything I can to heal and move forward. There's only so much guilt and regret one person can feel and I'm never going to rid myself of the self-hatred I feel if I don't remind myself of that. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess