The Phoenix

Monday was a day of apologies.
Monday was a day to listen.

I always go on and on about feeling alone.
Praise my blessed life, I am not.
I have never known true desolation, I hope to never know it.
I've always had wonderful, beautiful strangers who have carved niches in my soul.
People who have become adopted family.

They look out for me, they leave me comments, they call or text, they send me support from all over the globe.
To you all I say thank you, thank you for never leaving my side for a second, even when I am at my most insufferable.

I've had many people talk to me on Monday and voice their concern.
They are not blind to my plight, I am not alone.

I have Depression, crippling, suicidal, isolating, wretched, awful...

My family and adoptive family have helped me see that I need to be strong, to fight.
I've been called out on my bullshit too.

"You need to be alive, I need to know I can call you. You need to be in my life."

"I'm not going to your funeral."

"Be strong, be proud, you're amazing."

"You can beat this."

"We've been here before, this is no biggie, you'll come out of this stronger, better, please don't give up."

"Please don't be sad, you're stronger than this."

"God gave this life to you, because you're the only one who can make it work."

"I look forward to talking to you, you have to be there, you have to. Don't you leave me, not now, not when it's just getting good."

Oh my lovelies, how you all move me.
I love you guys so much.

Monday, what a day.
I made the effort and tried to change, well some things.
The behaviors are still there, but I managed not to drink.

On Tuesday, I still had a bad eating disordered day.
Losing weight has inspired me, encouraged me further. Ed wants me, he needs me.


I managed on my day off to finally will myself out of the house.
I walked all over my neighborhood and mindlessly wandered by a garage.
There was a car for sale for only 900$

I called and spoke to the owner who unfortunately had sold the car, but that lit the fire in me to not give up and accept that I could make a comeback.

As depressed as I am now, I can guarantee you this, I WILL COME BACK.
There is an ember in me, a dying flame that still is lit. It is maybe my recovery; from what exactly I cannot yet say, but I know this.
My ending, my story will be great.
No matter what, I am a survivor.
I won't give up.
I am human, not perfect, I make mistakes. I am flawed.

My mistakes are not greater than my triumphs. One day, I don't know when, I will be back, I am Phoenix.

I called my boyfriend, left him texts, he was not ready yet to talk to me.
I decided to instead just try to make the most of my day.

We finally spoke and things are okay, as okay as they can be I suppose. He won't divulge the specifics of my drunker stupor and things I've said, but maybe I should respect that, it's not the most ideal thing, but what more can I ask of him.
I wish I were different, but maybe if I was he wouldn't have fallen for me. I am who I am, I'm as he says of his ownself "A work in progress."

I went almost all of yesterday without alcohol.
Monday night I had a hard time falling asleep. I've come to depend on the drink too much.
Tuesday night, I finally succumb to the drink. I've never actually admitted to being an alcoholic, but I certainly felt that way.
It was hard to just stop myself cold turkey.
Finally knowing I had to work today, I just gave in and opened the bottle. The sour taste hits me, and I'm home.
Cigarettes cloud the air, I read my novel; the drunken entry. It wasn't all bad but I deleted half of it. Now I'm ready to outline the new chapter and keep writing.
Writing, my first love, the word, the words, how it moves my soul. I must've been someone grand in a past life. No greater joy than the written word I truly do not know.

I wake up this morning late. The cats knead at my hair because their food dish is empty. They are my backup alarm clock.
I get up and shower for work. In the shower the bathroom sink clogs, my hair is falling out at an astronomical rate, I t makes me weep in my hands. My body is breaking down, maybe I am dying, maybe its had enough.

I'm anxious. I haven't truly had a panic attack in awhile.
I walk to work and my chest tightens. The closer I get, the more it escalates.

I grab coffee at McDonald's. There is a boy there who knows my face, knows how I take my coffee. No matter who takes my order, he always makes my coffee and hands it to me proudly.

My favorite pharmacist is there today, I only work five hours, I can do this.
Ten minutes early and I feel the anxiety choking me, I almost feel like calling out and heading back home, instead I face it and go inside the pharmacy.

Work is okay.
The anxiety is not.
I'm nauseous, the laxatives still working make my day hell. I try my best not to let the nausea overcome me, I try to just be like everyone else.
Say look at me, I am carefree. Little does anyone know, I am hopeless. I am not well.
I don't wish any ailment I suffer on anyone, but everyday, I wish I had someone like me, someone else that could say, yes, I hurt too. You are not alone.

I'm sorry, I've started drinking tonight, I can't write anymore.
Forgive me, I'm vlogging.