Hello friends. (Life things)

Hi! I haven’t been active much, so I thought I’d just put some things out there that have been on my mind ;
As far as things with my court case goes, we’re tying up ends and getting the mitigation packet in to the prosecutor. My future will be dependent on if this man will have a shred of sympathy for me, if he’s in a good mood, if he’s out for blood.
There is a very minuscule possibility that I may be able to avoid prison time, if and only if the stars align ever so perfectly in my favor (so please, cosmic vibrations, prayers, manifestations are so greatly appreciated).
Aside from the cruel uncertainty of time, my life has been absolute grief and chaos. My little sister who is 19 has just come back to stay with us after a 2 year heroin/meth bender. Conditions being that she continues to go to outpatient until we can get her a bed date somewhere. (5th times a charm!) She is an absolute hurricane and whereas before when I know she’s been back out I continuously stress about her death, having her home makes me equally as stressed. Always worried she’s lying or stealing again. I’ll be happy to see her off in treatment again and I hope this time she sticks to it.
In relation to treatment, most of the friends I had met in mine are struggling. Relapsing. My rehab romance you all warned me about didn’t work out (lol) but we remain close, though he is struggling to get back up after a relapse as well. I am so fucking stressed, but I’m almost to 8 months clean and sober. I have a birthday coming up which I dread, but I’m not too worried about using.
If you all are into podcasts, I’ve been listening a lot to The Sad Bastard. He is a bipolar person in recovery who talks about vulnerability, mental health, and his struggle with substance abuse. Highly recommended if you’re melancholy like me. Thanks y’all for reading this. Just venting a bit as I’ve been feeling hopelessly alone lately.
Here is a recent poem I’ve written :

My friends around me die and relapse

And I feel numb to the world

Cold to her touch

Majesty wears the crown but

It’s sharp

Like barbed wire

And razor blades

So fragile our paper skin

Falls victim to things like cancer

And the chemical barrier we so often slip

While trying to find a foothold

Our shaky hands are weak and feeble

And sometimes an outstretched arm

Bows crooked at the elbow

The fruit ripens and rots

The leaves fall and wither

We inhale markers of time and forget

To blow the candles out

We etch numerals into stone

Until the sand runs out

And we flip the hourglass again

I want to lace my frigid fingers

In between the cracks and

Hold fast and steady and strong

Defying gravity for them

Until the concrete bones crumble

And we can build from dust again

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What beautiful writing. Your poetry speaks to the heart; it’s raw and honest.

Life is pulsing, raw, driving, pushing, charged with the same energy that drives the stars. One of the reasons addiction happens in humans and not in animals (unless artificially caused), is that humans live at the innovative, elemental centre of creative power. We build empires, we build dreams; and the same power tears them down.

We can’t not be what we are. What we can do is be sober and fully present and responsible for what we are.

Wishing you peace and groundedness now Knives. Remember that ultimately all that is yours, is you: your choices, your path. Others walk their paths and at times they overlap, at times not - but to truly honour them as humans, you have to let them create their life, write the poem of their life, as freely and fully as you’ve written yours.

You’re a good person Knives and you deserve a safe, sober life where you can be your full self.

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I can feel your hopelessness in your beautiful poetry, thank you for sharing so much of yourself here. You have so much to be proud of with your 8 months, I hope you find some comfort there and here. :heart: Having your sister around sounds very stressful, I will send some juju out that she finds a bed soon. While we often feel so very alone, I find comfort in knowing we are all related … sending healing your way. :heart: You are so very strong Knives, it comes thru.

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You all have been so kind to me and such a monumental beacon in my recovery I can’t thank you enough. I came here in rough shape, right after the accident, but you’ve all been here to listen and walk me through my journey and I can’t thank you enough :black_heart:

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Here is a poem I wrote sitting in the courtroom last time I was there. Being in the courthouse fills me with panic and always makes me cry.

Men in suits. And masks.
Because a pandemic doesn’t stop for incarceration.
Beautiful Victorian architecture.
Cold red brick and a clock tower that bellows every hour, on the hour.
Ever reminding us that one, two, three,
More hours pass.
Here time is prominent and poignant and crisp. Callous. Sharp.
Superior court judge in his furrowed brow
and his wrinkled frown,
Sits with his hands in your lap.
Open palms, puppet master.
Drape the robes like a shroud of death.
Guilty guilty guilty.
Agonizing bells. Yelling at me.
Meek and meager submission muttered into microphones. Still behind masks. Still hidden by glass.
Pleading penitence.
Deep green uniforms one by one.
Badges reminiscent of hoarding slaves and leather gloves and empty eyes and guns.
I think about the bullets to nestle the weapon to nestle the finger that nestled the trigger.
Military haircuts with a stern face of retribution.
How angry are you? How sharp is your knife? How blue is your blood?
But she shines just like mine when she kisses the air.
You’ll spill just like me, but maybe I’ll be quieter.
I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it like rain on my face. The last touch from a lost love. Have you felt it? Misted regrets on my hands.
Lips.
Face.
Dried in my hair.
Spattered on my shoes.
Laid under my nails.
My mind is prison enough.
My aching bones waiting to snap.
Break my neck like I did yours. A lullaby under the tree to drown me in the wreckage of my thoughts.
An echoing omnibus.

The bell of time screams again.

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Sorry things are shit Knives. I will definitely be praying for you and your sister. Congrats on your 8 months. Beautiful poetry.
:pray:t2::heart:

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Congrats on 8 months…staying clean and sober will definitely give you a leg up in court I’d think and I’m glad you have writing as an outlet…you can feel the rawness in your words, please continue to share more! Keeping you and your sister in my heart…I hope you catch a break soon for you truly deserve it :heart:

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Hey girl. I feel your pain and uncertainty and fucking hell this whole situation would stress me the fuck out bah! Hang in there. You are not alone. I love your poetry, and even more I love the fact that in that bleakness and that stress and worry you turn to creation, making words and setting meaning, and I know this is one of the things that are the strongest footholds in the storm. You are blessed you have this for you, the writing and the beauty of it.

I don’t have any advice, I was never in your situation. But from very very far away I’m thinking of you and your sister and wishing you all the best for the upcoming days and decisions. Keep in touch, Knives X <3

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Knives, you should publish (or perform; spoken art). I’m serious. You have an instinct for metaphor, symbol, image, and journey that is uncommon. Have you studied writing? If not, you should. Take a virtual program at a college. A voice like yours sculpts your experience and presents it to us and opens our eyes - and that helps us to be more fully human.

We need to be more fully human.

Your path is yours to walk over the next few years but if there’s a chance you can develop your voice and engage it in the world, in print or in performance, it will make our world richer.

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Thank you all for your words :black_heart: I’ve had a rough day and a mild slip up. I haven’t had to reset my timer, but I’ve put myself in a position to do so. I’m just so overwhelmed and I feel like such a fucking crybaby.

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Wishing the best for you sweetheart :pray: Theres too much going on always, our minds racing 24/7 even in stillness. I hear you, and feel you. You are not alone.

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Then cry. You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to ask for help; you’re allowed to not be the one in charge, saving everyone; you’re allowed to need someone.

Do you have someone you can call? Do you have a sponsor or a trusted contact?

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Crying is okay. Get it out. Refocus and carry on. Believe in your strength, in your self. :orange_heart:

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How are you Knives?

I’m okay. I do have a sponsor but I’m so bad at reaching out. I’m just so stressed. They put me on antipsychotics so I’m mostly just stressed and sedated. Thinking about things out of my control, like time. I really don’t want to sit in prison for years. I don’t think I can do that. I’m so soft and sensitive, I’m scared of what it will do to me.

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I’m sorry to hear that Knives it sounds like you’re in a really rough spot. And that meds regimen sounds tiring. I’m not on antipsychotic meds but I do have some I take, and there’s an impact and you need time to rest.

Rest. Peace. Your body and your brain long for it but your heart is spinning with fear.

If it’s ok with you I’ll say a short prayer here:
Dear God, grant Knives protection from whatever is unhelpful for her; grant her perception so she may see what is helpful; and grant her strength, deep and rooted in the infinite strength of life and the universe, so she can walk each step on her path to victory.

You are a valuable, worthy person who contributes to our world every day. You are worthy because you are human, just as human, as fallible, and as creative and necessary as us all. Life is by its nature fragile and temporary and while it’s true that you have been a part of tragedy and loss you are not less worthy or less human because of it. You living each moment, even if curled up in a ball, is still you facing the moment; you’re living your life, your thread in our fabric, and you’re not running away. And that’s an act of enormous courage for anyone, addict or not.

You’re a good person Knives and you deserve a safe, sober life where you can be your full self.

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I hear you :worried:

Prison is another one of those things that is out of your control. We addicts have always struggled with control. It’s one of the things that kept us running to addiction - to escape our fear, of what we can’t control (which is most of life).

Yes, prison will change you. It tends to harden whoever is there. (You’ll benefit by preparing mentally to be assertive.) But everything in life changes you. And most of life is not totally in your control - so you’re always, one way or another, being put in situations that will change you, often not by choice.

It is possible to create a persona that will let you live and grow in prison, which is strong enough to live there, but which also preserves the aspects of your personality that you value. You may find it helpful to begin this mental work now. What are the aspects of your personality you want to preserve and develop? How can you cultivate them in ways that are doable in prison?

A sapling and a powerful tree are both the same plant. One is soft, the other strong; both are pulsing with life and both are important to their environment :innocent:


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How are you @Knives69? Thinking about you sister :smile:

Thank you for checking in on me :black_heart: my birthday is on Monday and I’m incredibly stressed. I’m broke, cold and lonely but I’m still clean and sober. My sister is still in treatment and hasn’t fled yet lol. I haven’t talked to her yet but I think she’s doing well.

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I remember you were worried about her. I’m glad she’s ok :innocent:

Do you have a safe space to live? It’s getting chilly these days :cold_face: :house_with_garden:

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