Archive for the ‘Knuckles’ tag
Whoops
Had a bad few days. First, on a withdrawal from GHB I had to go and meet my progress tutor at university, who had promised to help me sort out a mental health liason person at the uni. However, when I arrived I found he'd booked me less than a 5-minute slot, with another girl who had a progress evaluation, and some girls in their final year who were having meetings for their dissertations. Cue me being extremely miffed! Then he didn't show up until over half an hour after the appointment time, and tried to walk straight into his office and lock the door. The other girls were all joking about how he is always this unreliable, so I just blabbed all my problems there and then, because I had to run and get the train, and asked if he could sort something out.
I was trying to maintain my calm (I'm a very aggressive person at the best of times, and this really was not the best of times) but by the time I got outside I just couldn't handle it... I punched a wall, and now my fist is all bruised and swollen and cut up. Nevertheless, better a wall than a person, I figure. I tried to call through to front desk to make a complaint - I knew he knew the time of the appointment because I'd had a lecture with him less than 3 hours before hand (and I'd had to hang around on my own until the appointment) where we had confirmed both time and location. When I got through to student services, I was told that I could not make a complaint against the tutor in question on a Wednesday, because the person I need to complain to is only in Mondays and Fridays.
So, I waddled off the train station, and tried to call the lecturer who had missed the appointment... I said who I was, that I had an appointment with him but he missed it, and what did I need to do to sort out a mental health liason? The reply was that, did I really need to be coming to university if I was going to talk to him like that. :c004: That was officially it... I punched again, this time a metal lamp-post... needless to say my knuckles are looking significantly worse for wear.
What bugs me most is I KNOW he used to be a drug-head before he turned his life around and became a teacher... and the subject he teaches is about Drug Abuse! :wtf2
I had planned for Wednesday to officially be my sober start date, but that did not happen. I went home, got really high... I don't even remember the rest of that night, but I found some writing I did and it's horrific. I mean, some of the most graphic and violent, disturbing stuff I have ever written, about torture and murder.
When I woke up the next day, I wasn't feeling any better, and at some point over the course of the day, now convinced that I would not be allowed back to university, I took a sh*tload of GHB, then blacked out in the shower. I literally collapsed in the foetal position, and my mother found me an hour later, covered in vomit, and having flooded the entire bathroom because I was unconcious over the plug/drain thing - water was leaking through the floor and into the kitchen. Furthermore, my mother hasn't seen me naked since I was a very young child, and I'm still kind of wigging over that fact.
Once I'd showered again I made the mistake of calling up an ex who has kind of become a booty call in times of need, since I don't have any actual, factual friends. That was fine, until after we'd... ahem... 'finished', and, while still in bed with me, he got a call from another girl, whom he chatted with for like a half an hour. I know I can't get jealous, because we're not in a relationship, but it was still a bit of a kick in the you-know-where, especially since only a few days earlier he had been claiming to still be in love with me.
I called my university again after he had left, and arranged an appointment myself to speak with a mental health liason officer directly, explaining that it was an emergency and I'd tried to book through my progress tutor, but it hadn't worked out. I got an appointment for today at 3, and was quite chuffed, hoping to finally get some help.
Then I was woken up by a call from student services and told that she had called in sick, and I would have to wait until next week and try again for an appointment.
WHOSE LUCK CAN POSSIBLY BE THIS BAD?
:(
(To try to find a happy, however, I did stumble across a website called 43things.com, and it's well worth checking out. You can make a list of all your goals and things you want to do, and keep track of them online, blog about them etc)
Sorry for the long, rambling, self-involved post. Just going a little crazy here!
I was trying to maintain my calm (I'm a very aggressive person at the best of times, and this really was not the best of times) but by the time I got outside I just couldn't handle it... I punched a wall, and now my fist is all bruised and swollen and cut up. Nevertheless, better a wall than a person, I figure. I tried to call through to front desk to make a complaint - I knew he knew the time of the appointment because I'd had a lecture with him less than 3 hours before hand (and I'd had to hang around on my own until the appointment) where we had confirmed both time and location. When I got through to student services, I was told that I could not make a complaint against the tutor in question on a Wednesday, because the person I need to complain to is only in Mondays and Fridays.
So, I waddled off the train station, and tried to call the lecturer who had missed the appointment... I said who I was, that I had an appointment with him but he missed it, and what did I need to do to sort out a mental health liason? The reply was that, did I really need to be coming to university if I was going to talk to him like that. :c004: That was officially it... I punched again, this time a metal lamp-post... needless to say my knuckles are looking significantly worse for wear.
What bugs me most is I KNOW he used to be a drug-head before he turned his life around and became a teacher... and the subject he teaches is about Drug Abuse! :wtf2
I had planned for Wednesday to officially be my sober start date, but that did not happen. I went home, got really high... I don't even remember the rest of that night, but I found some writing I did and it's horrific. I mean, some of the most graphic and violent, disturbing stuff I have ever written, about torture and murder.
When I woke up the next day, I wasn't feeling any better, and at some point over the course of the day, now convinced that I would not be allowed back to university, I took a sh*tload of GHB, then blacked out in the shower. I literally collapsed in the foetal position, and my mother found me an hour later, covered in vomit, and having flooded the entire bathroom because I was unconcious over the plug/drain thing - water was leaking through the floor and into the kitchen. Furthermore, my mother hasn't seen me naked since I was a very young child, and I'm still kind of wigging over that fact.
Once I'd showered again I made the mistake of calling up an ex who has kind of become a booty call in times of need, since I don't have any actual, factual friends. That was fine, until after we'd... ahem... 'finished', and, while still in bed with me, he got a call from another girl, whom he chatted with for like a half an hour. I know I can't get jealous, because we're not in a relationship, but it was still a bit of a kick in the you-know-where, especially since only a few days earlier he had been claiming to still be in love with me.
I called my university again after he had left, and arranged an appointment myself to speak with a mental health liason officer directly, explaining that it was an emergency and I'd tried to book through my progress tutor, but it hadn't worked out. I got an appointment for today at 3, and was quite chuffed, hoping to finally get some help.
Then I was woken up by a call from student services and told that she had called in sick, and I would have to wait until next week and try again for an appointment.
WHOSE LUCK CAN POSSIBLY BE THIS BAD?
:(
(To try to find a happy, however, I did stumble across a website called 43things.com, and it's well worth checking out. You can make a list of all your goals and things you want to do, and keep track of them online, blog about them etc)
Sorry for the long, rambling, self-involved post. Just going a little crazy here!
warning
Wedding Band
When I married forty years ago, my husband gave me a simple wedding band, certainly nothing fancy, no diamonds, just a thin, gold band, On my 25th wedding anniversary he bought an anniversary ring. Because my aging knuckles are larger than they were in 1968, my original band was no longer comfortable. I placed my new ring on my finger and my original gold band in a small white ceramic container on my dresser.
I am a simple woman. I have never bought myself expensive “jewelry store” bangles, but for Christmas, anniversaries, and birthdays, my husband would buy me a special piece, not because I requested such items, but because he wanted to show his love. On these special days he would present me with a nice necklace, bracelet or earrings. Over our forty years of marriage, I had collected some nice pieces that I wore mostly for special occasions. Through the years I came to recognize the neatly wrapped boxes with my special gifts. I didn’t wear this jewelry that held sentimental value very often, but I loved each piece because it represented a precious tangible reminders of my husband’s love and affection.
Two nights ago, I opened my ceramic jewel box and my wedding band was missing. Admittedly, my mind is not a sharp as it was years ago, but after a momentÂ’s contemplation, I thought that I had better check for my other jewelry pieces. I checked each box; not one piece of my nicer jewelry is left. Gone. All necklaces and bracelets are gone, traded, pawned, or sold to purchase drugs. My supposed RAS raided my jewelry box.
I wrote this note to remind everyone with an addict in the family that nothing sacred to a person who is hooked. They will lie to and steal from anyone.
I have been depressed, so sad and so sick at heart. I can hardly function. My jewelry is just stuff, but my heart is broken because each stolen item was lovingly selected and my trust was violated by my own son.
Addiction keeps on hurting. My counselor is on sick leave from work, I thought that writing of my painful experience might be therapeutic for me and helpful to someone else.
SR Friends, thanks for being here.
When I married forty years ago, my husband gave me a simple wedding band, certainly nothing fancy, no diamonds, just a thin, gold band, On my 25th wedding anniversary he bought an anniversary ring. Because my aging knuckles are larger than they were in 1968, my original band was no longer comfortable. I placed my new ring on my finger and my original gold band in a small white ceramic container on my dresser.
I am a simple woman. I have never bought myself expensive “jewelry store” bangles, but for Christmas, anniversaries, and birthdays, my husband would buy me a special piece, not because I requested such items, but because he wanted to show his love. On these special days he would present me with a nice necklace, bracelet or earrings. Over our forty years of marriage, I had collected some nice pieces that I wore mostly for special occasions. Through the years I came to recognize the neatly wrapped boxes with my special gifts. I didn’t wear this jewelry that held sentimental value very often, but I loved each piece because it represented a precious tangible reminders of my husband’s love and affection.
Two nights ago, I opened my ceramic jewel box and my wedding band was missing. Admittedly, my mind is not a sharp as it was years ago, but after a momentÂ’s contemplation, I thought that I had better check for my other jewelry pieces. I checked each box; not one piece of my nicer jewelry is left. Gone. All necklaces and bracelets are gone, traded, pawned, or sold to purchase drugs. My supposed RAS raided my jewelry box.
I wrote this note to remind everyone with an addict in the family that nothing sacred to a person who is hooked. They will lie to and steal from anyone.
I have been depressed, so sad and so sick at heart. I can hardly function. My jewelry is just stuff, but my heart is broken because each stolen item was lovingly selected and my trust was violated by my own son.
Addiction keeps on hurting. My counselor is on sick leave from work, I thought that writing of my painful experience might be therapeutic for me and helpful to someone else.
SR Friends, thanks for being here.
