I'm well over 1 yr sober now. Did you know? It's been a wild ride, but here I am. I've been through a fourth step, a fifth step, a near layoff, and a craigslist addiction and yet, I'm still sober.
Bless,
Ingenue
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
May?!?!?!?! I last blogged in MAY? Yeesh. Well, I really don’t have much to say for myself other than the fact that it’s flown by. And once again, I’m at a loss as to how to update. So much has changed. I’ve really changed and whoever’s run around harping about how people never change needs to spend some time in an AA meeting or six. I’m simply not the same girl. Cue David Bowie- Turn to face the change, baby.
I was emailing a beloved girlfriend from back in the day and trying to have the same conversation. What’s going on with me? In the modern girl world you give the rundown: Seeing someone fabulous, just broke up with an asshole. Got promoted, thinking about quitting this dead end job. New apartment, hate my roommates. You know, the stuff that ends up making a life, a life. Everybody understands when you speak on these levels, and as you get older the stakes get a bit higher. I’m getting married, he’s divorcing me. I’m having a baby, we can’t get pregnant. Your women understand, they’ve been through it as well.
Unfortunately, I don’t have any of these external circumstances to excuse my radical inner shift. My life these days is less about what’s been added and much more about what’s been taken away. I’m coming closer and closer to the true core of myself, and I’ve discovered some startling things about who I really am.
1. I can’t have casual sex without getting emotionally involved. For anyone who doesn’t think this is a giant epiphany please feel free to reference earlier blog entries where I was OBSSESSED with finding myself no strings attached lovers. It’s a little thing and a big thing all at the same time. Does this mean that I’m never going to date again? Absolutely not. Let’s not be rash here. I am in my sexual prime, after all. It’s just that if I do it, I need to be prepared (honestly, truthfully prepared) for what will REALLY happen. I don’t need to elaborate here do I? Is there anyone who hasn’t been through the infatuation = insecurity gauntlet?
2. I have FOOD ISSUES. I have Capital F, Capital I freaking FOOD ISSUES. And these issues revolve around what the hell’s going on in my head far more than what I’m putting in my mouth. It’s something to do with restriction and reward, a sort of psychic binge and purge mentality. When my life starts moving too fast and I flip out, the very next course of action for me is to start severely restricting calories, carbs, cooked food- you get my drift. In times when I should be really gentle and nourishing with myself, I inevitably choose to rape, pillage, and plunder my inner warehouse. The flip side of this is that when I’m spiritually well, I make fantastic food choices that please me greatly with no mental debate involved. For me, it is truly an inside job.
3. When I’m not having sex with someone, I eat a lot more.
4. This Bad-ass Ex-Rebel Chic needs her goddamn routines. End of subject. For someone who used to court chaos and mayhem on an hourly scale, this is truly a sign of some sort of sober apocalypse. I like waking up at 5am, I like working out, and then I get my meditation on. I take my time in the shower, roommates be damned, and I blow dry my hair. I catch the 6:43 train and I’m on my site by 7:06. After that all bets are off, but by God, my mornings are mine.
I still don’t like paying my bills. Sigh. Sobriety’s taking it’s sweet time with that one. However, not paying my bills upsets me far more deeply than it ever did before. When I was a younger woman I could blithely ignore eviction notices and nasty black marks on my credit report. Now if my landlord so much as gives me the side-eye in the middle of the month I’m running for my checkbook. So I am paying my bills. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Ingenue’s Electric Bill = Instant Resentment.
5. I am one Grateful Bitch. Sometimes I get shy about openly expressing my Gratitude (especially in meetings where there are buttloads of snarling, grumbly, oldtimey men) but express it I must. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve my recovery but I’m so happy it’s happened. I’ve spent a lot of my life in deep suffering and what I suffer I tend to inflict on others. My misery has brought turmoil to the lives of just about everyone around me so as I get better, they get some much needed relief as well.
I’m so fucking golden right now. I’m a basketcase and a mess most days, but I’m an honest (and hot) mess. Being me- day in, day out- kicks gorilla ass.
I’m just saying.
I was emailing a beloved girlfriend from back in the day and trying to have the same conversation. What’s going on with me? In the modern girl world you give the rundown: Seeing someone fabulous, just broke up with an asshole. Got promoted, thinking about quitting this dead end job. New apartment, hate my roommates. You know, the stuff that ends up making a life, a life. Everybody understands when you speak on these levels, and as you get older the stakes get a bit higher. I’m getting married, he’s divorcing me. I’m having a baby, we can’t get pregnant. Your women understand, they’ve been through it as well.
Unfortunately, I don’t have any of these external circumstances to excuse my radical inner shift. My life these days is less about what’s been added and much more about what’s been taken away. I’m coming closer and closer to the true core of myself, and I’ve discovered some startling things about who I really am.
1. I can’t have casual sex without getting emotionally involved. For anyone who doesn’t think this is a giant epiphany please feel free to reference earlier blog entries where I was OBSSESSED with finding myself no strings attached lovers. It’s a little thing and a big thing all at the same time. Does this mean that I’m never going to date again? Absolutely not. Let’s not be rash here. I am in my sexual prime, after all. It’s just that if I do it, I need to be prepared (honestly, truthfully prepared) for what will REALLY happen. I don’t need to elaborate here do I? Is there anyone who hasn’t been through the infatuation = insecurity gauntlet?
2. I have FOOD ISSUES. I have Capital F, Capital I freaking FOOD ISSUES. And these issues revolve around what the hell’s going on in my head far more than what I’m putting in my mouth. It’s something to do with restriction and reward, a sort of psychic binge and purge mentality. When my life starts moving too fast and I flip out, the very next course of action for me is to start severely restricting calories, carbs, cooked food- you get my drift. In times when I should be really gentle and nourishing with myself, I inevitably choose to rape, pillage, and plunder my inner warehouse. The flip side of this is that when I’m spiritually well, I make fantastic food choices that please me greatly with no mental debate involved. For me, it is truly an inside job.
3. When I’m not having sex with someone, I eat a lot more.
4. This Bad-ass Ex-Rebel Chic needs her goddamn routines. End of subject. For someone who used to court chaos and mayhem on an hourly scale, this is truly a sign of some sort of sober apocalypse. I like waking up at 5am, I like working out, and then I get my meditation on. I take my time in the shower, roommates be damned, and I blow dry my hair. I catch the 6:43 train and I’m on my site by 7:06. After that all bets are off, but by God, my mornings are mine.
I still don’t like paying my bills. Sigh. Sobriety’s taking it’s sweet time with that one. However, not paying my bills upsets me far more deeply than it ever did before. When I was a younger woman I could blithely ignore eviction notices and nasty black marks on my credit report. Now if my landlord so much as gives me the side-eye in the middle of the month I’m running for my checkbook. So I am paying my bills. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Ingenue’s Electric Bill = Instant Resentment.
5. I am one Grateful Bitch. Sometimes I get shy about openly expressing my Gratitude (especially in meetings where there are buttloads of snarling, grumbly, oldtimey men) but express it I must. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve my recovery but I’m so happy it’s happened. I’ve spent a lot of my life in deep suffering and what I suffer I tend to inflict on others. My misery has brought turmoil to the lives of just about everyone around me so as I get better, they get some much needed relief as well.
I’m so fucking golden right now. I’m a basketcase and a mess most days, but I’m an honest (and hot) mess. Being me- day in, day out- kicks gorilla ass.
I’m just saying.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Brave New Day....
Whew....I've pulled out of that one just in time. What is that "one" I'm referring too? Ummm, that would be the weird funk/depression/mind fuck that completely consumed my 6th month of sobriety. I can't say all's been lost. I'm still sober. I feel stronger, and all around more enlightened to the true nature of my inner self right now. All the pseudo-spiritual jargon what-have-you's aside I've been through something incredibly profound. I've grown up.
I wouldn't say it happened in the last month alone, but it's been the past 4 weeks where I've really felt the growing pains. I didn't realize that's what was happening. I thought I was experiencing some sort of total mental collapse. Last week at this time, I would have sworn to you I had no central nervous system left. What with all the pacing, sobbing, and newly developed nervous tics. That shit was oogly and baffling to boot! I had no idea where it was coming from. One week I was on this massive social bender; drinking coffee until 4 in the morning with cute boys, female bonding sleepovers, and meetings out the yahoo. Fellowship, bitches! And then, with not so much as a whisper of warning, I changed my mind. I started retreating from newly developed friendships, I started throwing around excuses not to go to my favorite meetings. (Although, it must be said, getting routinely bitched out by a 6'2" tranny while trying to get programmed seemed like a completely valid excuse at the time).
I started spending more time in bed. I started crying. And once the tears started flowing, I wasn't sure they were going to stop. I spent entire nights crying at my walls. I was completely incapable of carrying on a conversation with Mama Dearest w/o dissolving into hysterics.
"Mom, it's bad. Seriously, I've never in my life been this low before....I'm just in so much pain..."
That was the God's honest truth. I was in huge amounts of pain and the first thought that sprang to mind was, "Now would be an excellent time to relapse."
Sigh. Feelings suck.
I didn't relapse, I've climbed out of my pity pit, and I'm slowly putting the pieces back together. Alot can go awry in four weeks of self-destructive sobbing! Rent can go unpaid, flights tend to remain unbooked, dishes stay unwashed. Everything stagnates, life-wise, without the bare minimum effort required. I've learned this the hardway.
But the solution...oh the solution's been glorious...more on that to come....
xoxo Ingenue
(The solution has involved lots of Dr. Wayne Dyer, Yoga, Raw Foods, Parliament Lights, and Prayer. This is the recipe for a total miracle, let me tell you...:)
I wouldn't say it happened in the last month alone, but it's been the past 4 weeks where I've really felt the growing pains. I didn't realize that's what was happening. I thought I was experiencing some sort of total mental collapse. Last week at this time, I would have sworn to you I had no central nervous system left. What with all the pacing, sobbing, and newly developed nervous tics. That shit was oogly and baffling to boot! I had no idea where it was coming from. One week I was on this massive social bender; drinking coffee until 4 in the morning with cute boys, female bonding sleepovers, and meetings out the yahoo. Fellowship, bitches! And then, with not so much as a whisper of warning, I changed my mind. I started retreating from newly developed friendships, I started throwing around excuses not to go to my favorite meetings. (Although, it must be said, getting routinely bitched out by a 6'2" tranny while trying to get programmed seemed like a completely valid excuse at the time).
I started spending more time in bed. I started crying. And once the tears started flowing, I wasn't sure they were going to stop. I spent entire nights crying at my walls. I was completely incapable of carrying on a conversation with Mama Dearest w/o dissolving into hysterics.
"Mom, it's bad. Seriously, I've never in my life been this low before....I'm just in so much pain..."
That was the God's honest truth. I was in huge amounts of pain and the first thought that sprang to mind was, "Now would be an excellent time to relapse."
Sigh. Feelings suck.
I didn't relapse, I've climbed out of my pity pit, and I'm slowly putting the pieces back together. Alot can go awry in four weeks of self-destructive sobbing! Rent can go unpaid, flights tend to remain unbooked, dishes stay unwashed. Everything stagnates, life-wise, without the bare minimum effort required. I've learned this the hardway.
But the solution...oh the solution's been glorious...more on that to come....
xoxo Ingenue
(The solution has involved lots of Dr. Wayne Dyer, Yoga, Raw Foods, Parliament Lights, and Prayer. This is the recipe for a total miracle, let me tell you...:)
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Where has our love gone, Blog?
I do not feel witty or inspired. I do not like re-reading blog postings that don't read like little slices of genius. I do not like have my musings misinterpreted and dissected by well meaning commenters. Because of all of these things, the passion has cooled between us Bloggy. And I'm sorry for that. If it makes any difference at all, I've missed you dearly. I have no idea how to catch you up on all the shit that's gone down since my last post, so I'll keep it to the day at hand. The past is frankly irrelevant (and yet, strangely, it never quite leaves us does it?)
So here (in no particular order) are the greatest hits of my day:
So here (in no particular order) are the greatest hits of my day:
- I'm ragging but it's not as bad as it's been. It kind of just snuck up on me, honestly. I also think there is DEFINITE divine reason at play here, becaue I'd been toying with the idea of getting some lovin' (different guy, of course) but this obvs puts the kibosh on that for the moment.
- I haven't eaten lunch today and it's 3:24pm. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
- I've gotten a new sponsor who I am thrilled about. I've wanted to work with her since I the very beginning of this strange, sober journey. This is a really happy thing for me.
- I've not yet told GSBF that he will no longer be sponsoring me. This is a really troubling thing for me.
- There's a boy (I swear it feels like there's always a boy) and instead of making me happy it's made me a bit, well, psycho. My inner voices have turned on me and I find myself compulsively checking my email every two minutes for more thrilling bits of discourse. My Mother says the boys are going to keep popping up to terrorize my serenity until I learn NOT TO ATTACH MY HAPPINESS TO THE ACTIONS OF MEN (or anyone else for that matter).
But isn't that the spiritual quest of anyone's lifetime? Not to attach? I try, I do try, but despite my best efforts, niggling little thoughts sneak in and grow into the hundred armed hydra, sucking the joy out of my psyche. Right now, that's not such a bad thing to be going through tho. Everytime my thoughts turn to J and what he's thinking about, and why hasn't he responded to my witty bon mot, and whatever else; I am aware. I am keenly aware when I start debating with myself over whether or not I'll go to my favorite meeting because he may want to take me to dinner AT JUST THAT TIME. Everytime I leave this blog post to check my hotmail for a word from him (totally just did that) I think, can this be right? Am I really that girl?
And the answer is a resounding, yes. And no. It's a definite maybe, anyway. I've been that girl for a very long time. And those habitual thought patterns are influencing my situations today. But that doesn't make it true. It's all in my head, literally! And that's why I will not be shying away from the emotions that dating is drudging up. That is why I'm ok to tell on myself. Let what lives in the dark come into the light! Fuck it! True self love is accepting yourself exactly as you are, with no revisions. This is my headspace now and it's all good....
Getting out of here to grab some chow and hit a meeting....
xoxo
Let's stay in touch blog-
Ingenue
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Maybe my character defects aren't so bad after all......
So I have this thing. It's called major fear of intimacy and it rules my interpersonal relationships with an iron fist. Upon first meeting me, you'd never know that this was the case. I'm open and gregarious and if anything presumptively intimate. I'll tell you about the horrifying female ejaculation exploit when I was nineteen that has forever haunted my sexuality. (He was convinced I had peed all over his futon and I was ill equipped to argue with him seeing as I had never left that kind of tsunami in my orgasmic wake before. Awful, right? I didn't cum again until I was 21. I was completely traumatized.) I'll listen to your battle tales with an open and understanding mind. I come across as completely candid, fun, and non-judgemental.
And in that moment perhaps I am. But only for that moment, because in the moments that follow my overactive ego gets to work scrutinizing every single word, thought, and action you've put forth. And let me be the first to tell you, my new friend, you do not look good. This is where the crisis begins. You now think that I have no issue with our sudden closeness and your guard goes waaaay down. You start sharing vulnerable things with me. Your vulnerabliliy makes me feel vulnerable and I DO NOT LIKE TO FEEL VULNERABLE. I start inserting some distance and you start hanging around more trying to understand why the hell I'm acting like that. The more you cling, the more I withhold, and soon there's a big BOOM. You are now dead to me. I openly ignore you in public situations. You openly discuss the fact that I'm a misanthropic bitch.
It happens again and again and again in my male and female relationships. I find it deeply upsetting especially since it is just so evident now in my sobriety. I can't think of anything more pressurizing for a personality disorder of this magnitude than regular AA attendance. Jesus H. In six months of sobriety I've been through 4 BFF's and 3 Brothers From Another Mother. Clearly, I still see most of them on a daily basis. It's not as awkward as it may sound though. Ignoring their existence is modus operandi for me. I've been doing this since adolescense. I am, in fact, a pro.
Do I want to change this behavior? Absolutely. I've felt horrible and bitchy and un-spiritual for months now. But last night I decided to let myself off the hook a little bit. There appears to be a direct correllation between the co-dependent fellowship friendships I've been running through and relapse rates. Every one of the aforementioned folks has relapsed in the time we've known each other. And as tempting as it may be to pin the blame for that on my inherent bitchiness, I couldn't have kept them sober. The problem here is that I'm attracted to the dysfunction. I revel in it and encourage it, until I get scared for my own sobriety and then I get the FUCK out.
I haven't had a drink in six months. It has not been easy, pretty, or graceful, but I've done it. Every good thing that's come into my life has been a direct result of not picking up that first drink. Deeply held behaviors (fears of intimacy and the like) will have to be released but that's going to happen on HP's time, not mine. Until then, all I can do is live by example in my current state. Trying to be best friend to every sick and suffering chic that walks through the doors of Perry Street is not the answer. And I really have to look inward to find what I'm trying to validate surrounding myself with these folks. Quality not quantity right?
Hmmmm. Asking the Cosmic questions and humbly awaiting the Universal replies.
And in that moment perhaps I am. But only for that moment, because in the moments that follow my overactive ego gets to work scrutinizing every single word, thought, and action you've put forth. And let me be the first to tell you, my new friend, you do not look good. This is where the crisis begins. You now think that I have no issue with our sudden closeness and your guard goes waaaay down. You start sharing vulnerable things with me. Your vulnerabliliy makes me feel vulnerable and I DO NOT LIKE TO FEEL VULNERABLE. I start inserting some distance and you start hanging around more trying to understand why the hell I'm acting like that. The more you cling, the more I withhold, and soon there's a big BOOM. You are now dead to me. I openly ignore you in public situations. You openly discuss the fact that I'm a misanthropic bitch.
It happens again and again and again in my male and female relationships. I find it deeply upsetting especially since it is just so evident now in my sobriety. I can't think of anything more pressurizing for a personality disorder of this magnitude than regular AA attendance. Jesus H. In six months of sobriety I've been through 4 BFF's and 3 Brothers From Another Mother. Clearly, I still see most of them on a daily basis. It's not as awkward as it may sound though. Ignoring their existence is modus operandi for me. I've been doing this since adolescense. I am, in fact, a pro.
Do I want to change this behavior? Absolutely. I've felt horrible and bitchy and un-spiritual for months now. But last night I decided to let myself off the hook a little bit. There appears to be a direct correllation between the co-dependent fellowship friendships I've been running through and relapse rates. Every one of the aforementioned folks has relapsed in the time we've known each other. And as tempting as it may be to pin the blame for that on my inherent bitchiness, I couldn't have kept them sober. The problem here is that I'm attracted to the dysfunction. I revel in it and encourage it, until I get scared for my own sobriety and then I get the FUCK out.
I haven't had a drink in six months. It has not been easy, pretty, or graceful, but I've done it. Every good thing that's come into my life has been a direct result of not picking up that first drink. Deeply held behaviors (fears of intimacy and the like) will have to be released but that's going to happen on HP's time, not mine. Until then, all I can do is live by example in my current state. Trying to be best friend to every sick and suffering chic that walks through the doors of Perry Street is not the answer. And I really have to look inward to find what I'm trying to validate surrounding myself with these folks. Quality not quantity right?
Hmmmm. Asking the Cosmic questions and humbly awaiting the Universal replies.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Spring Awakening.....
Color me humbled. My ass-getting (and subsequent morning after pill-popping) adventures have gone all awry. Self-will run riot? You think?
I took the reins back and it nearly landed me in a very messy situation. Those innocent little morning after pills really freaking put me through it. Freakish hormonal outbursts, two days of vomiting, and so much more. And was my partner in crime there to support me through this mayhem? Not so much.
Although this was a boy that I had counted days with and known as my friend since I first got sober, although he had no problem coming to find me whenever he was in need of a free dinner, when I wanted someone to watch movies with me through my isolation it was a rather douchey no.
"Well, if I came over there and took care of you, that would be, like, intimate, and I don't know, not physical."
"And? It's not like I created this vomiting situation all by myself, brother. You can't watch a movie with me anymore?"
"Not unless there's a hummer involved, no."
Ahhh. There you have it. The anatomy of a 13th step fuck-off. To be fair, we had discussed the whole no-strings aspect, but we hadn't taken into consideration the inherent fallibility of prophylactics. Life on life's terms will undo the best laid plans, yeah? Is there some sort of human compassion quotient involved here?
It's a moot point anyways. The sheer rage and powerlessness I felt in the moments getting off the phone with him propelled me through my nausea and straight into a meeting. I sat through one (only wretched twice) and then another (no wretching) and then the third. By the third meeting, he had shown up and was witness to my single rolfing session.
Somewhere in between the puking, the two days w/o food, the three meetings, and the sheer unmanageability of the consequences of my actions, I started to feel better. Not just better from the weirdness of this last week, better in my program. Better in my life. I feel peaceful now. Something really shitty happened, and I don't want to drink. Someone that used to be my friend totally disappointed me and I don't feel any resentment. And as a wise man once said to me:
"You better pray for God's will, girl."
"Why?"
"Because that's what you're going to end up with anyway."
LIFE!
Ingenue
P.S. T- I'm praying for you. I pray that you have the amazing sex life that I want for myself. I pray that you only have requited attraction in your affairs. I pray that you be free from rejection and emotional trauma. I pray that you feel loved, respected, and envied at all times. Don't say I never did anything for you, man.
I took the reins back and it nearly landed me in a very messy situation. Those innocent little morning after pills really freaking put me through it. Freakish hormonal outbursts, two days of vomiting, and so much more. And was my partner in crime there to support me through this mayhem? Not so much.
Although this was a boy that I had counted days with and known as my friend since I first got sober, although he had no problem coming to find me whenever he was in need of a free dinner, when I wanted someone to watch movies with me through my isolation it was a rather douchey no.
"Well, if I came over there and took care of you, that would be, like, intimate, and I don't know, not physical."
"And? It's not like I created this vomiting situation all by myself, brother. You can't watch a movie with me anymore?"
"Not unless there's a hummer involved, no."
Ahhh. There you have it. The anatomy of a 13th step fuck-off. To be fair, we had discussed the whole no-strings aspect, but we hadn't taken into consideration the inherent fallibility of prophylactics. Life on life's terms will undo the best laid plans, yeah? Is there some sort of human compassion quotient involved here?
It's a moot point anyways. The sheer rage and powerlessness I felt in the moments getting off the phone with him propelled me through my nausea and straight into a meeting. I sat through one (only wretched twice) and then another (no wretching) and then the third. By the third meeting, he had shown up and was witness to my single rolfing session.
Somewhere in between the puking, the two days w/o food, the three meetings, and the sheer unmanageability of the consequences of my actions, I started to feel better. Not just better from the weirdness of this last week, better in my program. Better in my life. I feel peaceful now. Something really shitty happened, and I don't want to drink. Someone that used to be my friend totally disappointed me and I don't feel any resentment. And as a wise man once said to me:
"You better pray for God's will, girl."
"Why?"
"Because that's what you're going to end up with anyway."
LIFE!
Ingenue
P.S. T- I'm praying for you. I pray that you have the amazing sex life that I want for myself. I pray that you only have requited attraction in your affairs. I pray that you be free from rejection and emotional trauma. I pray that you feel loved, respected, and envied at all times. Don't say I never did anything for you, man.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
I got some!
Ass that is. And it was much fun. We had the preliminary "no strings" convo before we got to business (I've had enough of dating expectations and disappointments for a minute. I want to close out my first year sober in peace...) Then we got to it! SO. MUCH. FUN. Right up until the moment we discovered the condom had exploded. Sigh. What are you trying to tell me here, HP?
So seeing as birth control Plan A had thoroughly failed us, the next morning Lover and I moved on to Plan B. This was my first experience with the morning after pill. I can't say I'm thrilled with the exploding condom scenario BUT it is refreshing to be sober and ready to take a responsible, decisive action here. And that is where I become extremely grateful that Plan B is available to me.
So yesterday I got the pills and took them. This was after some worry that I may not be able to procur them, seeing as I possess no legal identification. It was a non issue then but it prompted me into overdue action. See, I haven't had an ID since LAST MAY. I left it in the back of a cab after a drunken spree and I have lived under the radar ever since. I'm like Jason Bourne. I have no identity. Booyah!
I have my ss card, my bank card, and a picture work ID. I've flown across the country with these! Its been real but its time for me to get legal again. And that, my friends, is why I am blogging to you from the DMV. Otherwise known as Satans Asshole. I've been here for 3 hours and I believe I may be here for 2 more. I've mentally recited the Serenity Prayer 85 times and I am running STRAIGHT to a meeting when the finally set me free. There is a homeless chic standing in front of me who reeks of fried pickles. I've been breathing in fried pickle smell for three fucking hours. Oh lord. Deliver me.
Life on lifes terms can be a dull, dull affair.
Sober nonetheless,
Ingenue
So seeing as birth control Plan A had thoroughly failed us, the next morning Lover and I moved on to Plan B. This was my first experience with the morning after pill. I can't say I'm thrilled with the exploding condom scenario BUT it is refreshing to be sober and ready to take a responsible, decisive action here. And that is where I become extremely grateful that Plan B is available to me.
So yesterday I got the pills and took them. This was after some worry that I may not be able to procur them, seeing as I possess no legal identification. It was a non issue then but it prompted me into overdue action. See, I haven't had an ID since LAST MAY. I left it in the back of a cab after a drunken spree and I have lived under the radar ever since. I'm like Jason Bourne. I have no identity. Booyah!
I have my ss card, my bank card, and a picture work ID. I've flown across the country with these! Its been real but its time for me to get legal again. And that, my friends, is why I am blogging to you from the DMV. Otherwise known as Satans Asshole. I've been here for 3 hours and I believe I may be here for 2 more. I've mentally recited the Serenity Prayer 85 times and I am running STRAIGHT to a meeting when the finally set me free. There is a homeless chic standing in front of me who reeks of fried pickles. I've been breathing in fried pickle smell for three fucking hours. Oh lord. Deliver me.
Life on lifes terms can be a dull, dull affair.
Sober nonetheless,
Ingenue
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