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Let's Get Back In The Arena.

I need to come clean.

22 Days Clean.

This has truly been the longest fucking journey. Yes, I said fucking. It warrants an expletive. I have fallen, over and over and over and over again. People have left my life. People I loved more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. Friends, partners, employers. The last time I had 21 days, we were living in my partner’s parents RV…and that’s only because I was scared to use on their property. That fear was quickly dashed after a cruise into the war zone and a nudge from him. Something about blight and poverty is so appealing to the meth addict that I am.

I have stabbed needles into my arm ad nauseam. I have cried to myself to stop. I have had sex with some very sick human beings, one of whom threw me out into the streets just minutes after injection because I couldn’t perform that way he wanted me to. I nearly wrecked my car. I cried in front of the Bank of America ATM as I went in to grab a $20 for another half gram…I’d already injected a gram in the 48 hours preceding that withdrawal. I saw a couple embracing. I cried more. The love of my life was gone. I planted the seed of toxicity that would destroy that relationship. It didn’t absolve him of his responsibility, but I knew…my spirit told me to be honest. I went against it. That is not a recipe for success. Spirit always comes out on the right side of things and I either follow gracefully or face plant into the gravel that is regret, heartbreak, and loneliness. In a poetic twist, I was pulling into the parking lot of the NA meeting that I’ve been attending on Friday nights and looked to my left…there was that same ATM…and that same parking lot where I prayed to God for an answer. Maybe if I would’ve just opened my eyes to what was right in front of me.

The first week was Hell. I came clean to everyone that loves me and that has yet to give up on me. It wasn’t just the detoxing process which is almost entirely psychological, but it was the reality that the first person I’ve ever truly been in love with (and had it reciprocated) was gone. In so many ways, he loved me back to life, and I wouldn’t be the confident person I am today…the guy that travels alone to DC to take part in social justice marches or the guy that started his own podcast or even the guy that shares in a meeting, if not for meeting him. So I’ll always be grateful for that. Each day that passes is a reminder that I have to figure out this thing called life without a man by my side. I need to learn to love myself. People that love themselves don’t stick needles filled with poison into their arms, they just don’t. And it’s not fair to work my shit out on the men who dare to love me.

Each day that passes, I get sad a little less. Prayer helps. Every time I miss him, I pray for God to send him peace and joy and to light him back up. That is no lie. That is what he deserves. It’s what I deserve. It’s what we all deserve.

I thank each and every one of you. I wish I’d come clean sooner, but I have to think there’s a bigger plan at play here. There simply has to be. It would be so easy to use right now…I could rationalize it by saying I’m hurting over my nephew, or my dad, or my ex-partner, but truthfully, God has comforted me with all of that…and I have my moments of break down, but by practicing gratitude each and every morning, I find myself leaning into joy more.

I think if Jesse (my ex-husband) and my ex-partner could see me today, they might not recognize me. I’m dancing in the aisles at Smith’s and singing to Dobby on the trails and giving shout outs to amazing people on TikTok. When one has come so close to death so many times, what is there left to fear? And why?

I know I have a purpose, and I know exactly what it is. I need to stop running from it and embrace it. I need to stop fearing success and start receiving that I am a fucking amazing human being with a story to tell. I will help save the lives of others, just as so many people (present company included) have saved mine. Y’all saw in me what I didn’t want to see (talk about privilege). It’s so much easier to be a drug addict than to accept that I’m meant for greatness.

Stay tuned y’all and watch out world.

On we grow...