I can't sleep. My mind has been racing all night. I'm pretty sure all the endorphins from my run earlier are buzzing around giving me a lot to think about. Luckily, they are good things for once.
I know I haven't written in awhile. In my world, that normally means a lot of drama is going on. And it definitely has been. I'm pretty sure Jerry Springer could do a full show just about my drama. I hate that, but it's the truth. The subject matter has been too fresh to put pen to paper until now.
One day, many moons ago, I got up, took a walk and got lost, figuratively speaking. The pressure of my busy season at work, buying a house, buying a car, fostering and subsequently losing a needy dog, all the while having my boyfriend being away on a long transcontinental business trip got to be too much. I became angry and resentful. I felt like I had all the baggage of the relationship and none of the reward. I felt completely helpless. Here I had (finally) come to rely on a relationship and someone being in my life to depend on, only to have him pull the rug from underneath me. "Fuck this," was the one thought that consumed me.
So when I began to receive attention from someone else, I ran towards it and away from my relationship. I managed to get lost while running. I became confused about everything. The path that was so recently clear became foggy. I began to question everything I knew. I wasn't sure I wanted to keep working at my job. I wasn't sure I wanted a relationship. I wasn't sure who my friends were. Mostly, I wasn't really sure I had ever even been in love with my boyfriend. It certainly never felt as good as this new thing.
In the meantime our phone calls via Skype became difficult because of the distance. Our conversations felt lifeless. Most of the time we couldn't even make the phone calls connect. My life seemed to keep going forward while his was at a standstill in Europe.
I moved into our new house. His family showed up to help me move, and once I got all of my stuff to the house something felt off. Like it wasn't my home. I had no motivation to unpack except to have all of my necessities. I felt like I had cinder blocks on my feet whenever I tried to complete any kind of task around the house. The plants I had bought in anticipation of a garden sat just as lifeless as I did. Shortly after, I moved out of the house my boyfriend and I had picked and purchased together.
This was partly due to the party lifestyle I had adopted. I was going out on week nights, trips to Vegas along with other glamorous excursions. I was so knee-deep in a life that was crazy that the mundane parts of life lacked luster and shine. I had made the attention my drug, and the more I used, the more I needed more. And the more I thought I needed, the more lost and confused I became.
This manifested in many ways in my life. And just when I thought I could find my way back, I was bought an all-expense-paid trip to Vegas. It was complete with first class service, a stay in one of the finest suites, dinners at the most expensive places, and all of the alcohol and drugs I could handle. I was skeptical at first. I had just gotten home from a crazy trip the week before. But how does someone say 'no' to free?
On the last day of the trip, we decide to go to a day club at a pool. It was supposed to be the best pool party on the strip. I was excited as we were scheduled to continue our first class treatment inside. We walked past the line full of the desperate fools who didn't make the cut. In spite of circumventing the line, we couldn't escape security.
As I walked up to be searched. my heart started pounding. The security seemed awefully tight for a club. I assured myself nothing would be an issue because I was a girl, and I was protected by my VIP status and people who cared about me. They wouldn't lead me astray.
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you take what is in your back pocket out for me," said a heavy-set woman in a neon shirt. Instantly my face became flushed. I felt the saliva drain from my throat. I didn't know what to do. I felt shaky and lifeless. There was nothing I could do. I had to empty my pocket. I reach behind and pull out a vile.
"What is this?" the lady asked. What can you say? I felt like I was suddenly transported to the principal's office. And in that moment all of my pretense fell away. There was no VIP, no friends, no hot girl, no vacation. I was now a criminal.
"Cocaine," was the only thing to say. The truth.
I was taken through an alleyway into a room with multiple police officers. When asked, I told them that it didn't belong to me. It was the truth. It did not belong to me. It belonged to the company I kept. He managed to tag along with me, but made no attempt to help other than to regale us with a bogus story about partying with drug-addicted hookers. I was mortified.
Next thing I knew, I was standing in a bikini and daisy duke's being handcuffed in front of the same line I had skipped only an hour before. Who was the fool now?
Eventually, I was taken to jail. Yes, jail. In Vegas. In a bikini. I sat there for 18 hours. I could write an entire book about that experience alone! I saw all types of people there, prostitutes, drug addicts, the mentally insane, fighters, criers, me. And everyone was innocent...except the prostitutes. They owned up easily. It was just another weekend for most of them.
Long about hour 12, I started to crack. I hadn't eaten all day. (I needed to look as skinny as possible in my bikini!) I hadn't pooped since the toilet was strategically located in the middle of a room with 40 women in it. I was dehydrated and still in that damn bikini. I began to wonder how long I would be there. I wondered if I had been forgotten. I wondered if anyone would bother to miss their flight for me. I had no idea what to do, not that there was much I could do. No one told me anything. No one told me if I needed to be bailed out. No one told me how to work the phone. No one told me why it was taking so long.
I was getting antsy and most of the prostitutes had finished telling stories amongst themselves. The prostitutes had cast disapproving looks to the other girls as they cried on the phone to their loved ones. I agreed with their disapproval because the conditions weren't tear-worthy, unless maybe they had to poop. But at about hour 17 I began to crossover to the other side. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I began to seriously consider the possibility that I could be there for a long time.
At that moment, my name was finally called. My bail had been posted, and I was free. I walked out in the early morning light onto a sidewalk far away from the Strip but still wearing a bikini.
Needless to say this was one of the worst experiences of my life. Aside from an 18-hour glimpse into hell, I now had a court date, a record, legal bills in addition to the humiliation. My sister was a drug addict for over 10 years. She became addicted when we were teenagers. It tore our family apart an led her down a very dark path. I always attributed that experience as the reason I never experimented with anything aside from alcohol and marijuana. Now this fervent woman who had been so clean cut had a possession charge.
I was never so grateful to be done with a vacation in my life. The following days felt like being outside after an intense thunderstorm. Everything was soaking wet with shame and emotion. I was the cloud that had been wrung out. All of my energy and emotion had been wrung out.
My previous boyfriend returned not long after the incident. I felt like my life had significantly changed in so many ways in the few short months he was gone, and I didn't know if things would feel the same between the two of us. I had done so much bad. My ugliness was undeniable.
When we finally met with one another and I filled him in, he became grim. I thought for sure he was going to call me every derogatory name imaginable. He had every right to. Instead he told me loved me. He told me that more than anything he was concerned for my well-being. In that moment, his unconditional love drew me in. It didn't happen over night, but I began to see his strength of character. I saw once more his kind heart, his steady constant love and vision for a life together.
In this short story which is really an extremely rough overview of the past several months, it cannot possibly grasp all of the twists and turns and hard terrible and amazing moments, mostly because when it was all happening I had no idea that I was getting lost. I just kept taking more and more steps down a dark path away from the goodness and light I had found in myself and the people in my life. I kept telling myself that I had just taken a few steps out of my front yard, and I could at any point find my way back. But after so many dark steps off the path it became almost impossible to even see the light anymore. Confusion sets in and the finger-pointing starts. I began playing a game of "uncle" with the darkness in myself.
That moment that I was finally released from jail and stepped into the early morning light onto a quiet street miles from the Vegas strip, I had to cry 'uncle'. I could no longer ignore the fact that I was lost.
I know I am making it sound so simple. It kind of was and kind of wasn't. It was, in the sense that I realized all I had to do was follow the love, it would lead me back. It also wasn't simple because I had broken hearts, including my own. At times it seemed like climbing Mt. Everest trying to repair broken relationships, figure out what my next move was, and deal with my own broken hurting heart.
Over time and a lot of hard decisions, a lot of forgiveness, and a lot of love, I was able to see light in my life again. I was able to not only see it but feel it's warmth, use it to grow my garden and harness it to the rhythm of a beautiful life full of more honest unconditional love than I have ever known. It might not be the most exciting life, but it will always be the most exclusive club in town.
I know I haven't written in awhile. In my world, that normally means a lot of drama is going on. And it definitely has been. I'm pretty sure Jerry Springer could do a full show just about my drama. I hate that, but it's the truth. The subject matter has been too fresh to put pen to paper until now.
One day, many moons ago, I got up, took a walk and got lost, figuratively speaking. The pressure of my busy season at work, buying a house, buying a car, fostering and subsequently losing a needy dog, all the while having my boyfriend being away on a long transcontinental business trip got to be too much. I became angry and resentful. I felt like I had all the baggage of the relationship and none of the reward. I felt completely helpless. Here I had (finally) come to rely on a relationship and someone being in my life to depend on, only to have him pull the rug from underneath me. "Fuck this," was the one thought that consumed me.
So when I began to receive attention from someone else, I ran towards it and away from my relationship. I managed to get lost while running. I became confused about everything. The path that was so recently clear became foggy. I began to question everything I knew. I wasn't sure I wanted to keep working at my job. I wasn't sure I wanted a relationship. I wasn't sure who my friends were. Mostly, I wasn't really sure I had ever even been in love with my boyfriend. It certainly never felt as good as this new thing.
In the meantime our phone calls via Skype became difficult because of the distance. Our conversations felt lifeless. Most of the time we couldn't even make the phone calls connect. My life seemed to keep going forward while his was at a standstill in Europe.
I moved into our new house. His family showed up to help me move, and once I got all of my stuff to the house something felt off. Like it wasn't my home. I had no motivation to unpack except to have all of my necessities. I felt like I had cinder blocks on my feet whenever I tried to complete any kind of task around the house. The plants I had bought in anticipation of a garden sat just as lifeless as I did. Shortly after, I moved out of the house my boyfriend and I had picked and purchased together.
This was partly due to the party lifestyle I had adopted. I was going out on week nights, trips to Vegas along with other glamorous excursions. I was so knee-deep in a life that was crazy that the mundane parts of life lacked luster and shine. I had made the attention my drug, and the more I used, the more I needed more. And the more I thought I needed, the more lost and confused I became.
This manifested in many ways in my life. And just when I thought I could find my way back, I was bought an all-expense-paid trip to Vegas. It was complete with first class service, a stay in one of the finest suites, dinners at the most expensive places, and all of the alcohol and drugs I could handle. I was skeptical at first. I had just gotten home from a crazy trip the week before. But how does someone say 'no' to free?
On the last day of the trip, we decide to go to a day club at a pool. It was supposed to be the best pool party on the strip. I was excited as we were scheduled to continue our first class treatment inside. We walked past the line full of the desperate fools who didn't make the cut. In spite of circumventing the line, we couldn't escape security.
As I walked up to be searched. my heart started pounding. The security seemed awefully tight for a club. I assured myself nothing would be an issue because I was a girl, and I was protected by my VIP status and people who cared about me. They wouldn't lead me astray.
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you take what is in your back pocket out for me," said a heavy-set woman in a neon shirt. Instantly my face became flushed. I felt the saliva drain from my throat. I didn't know what to do. I felt shaky and lifeless. There was nothing I could do. I had to empty my pocket. I reach behind and pull out a vile.
"What is this?" the lady asked. What can you say? I felt like I was suddenly transported to the principal's office. And in that moment all of my pretense fell away. There was no VIP, no friends, no hot girl, no vacation. I was now a criminal.
"Cocaine," was the only thing to say. The truth.
I was taken through an alleyway into a room with multiple police officers. When asked, I told them that it didn't belong to me. It was the truth. It did not belong to me. It belonged to the company I kept. He managed to tag along with me, but made no attempt to help other than to regale us with a bogus story about partying with drug-addicted hookers. I was mortified.
Next thing I knew, I was standing in a bikini and daisy duke's being handcuffed in front of the same line I had skipped only an hour before. Who was the fool now?
Eventually, I was taken to jail. Yes, jail. In Vegas. In a bikini. I sat there for 18 hours. I could write an entire book about that experience alone! I saw all types of people there, prostitutes, drug addicts, the mentally insane, fighters, criers, me. And everyone was innocent...except the prostitutes. They owned up easily. It was just another weekend for most of them.
Long about hour 12, I started to crack. I hadn't eaten all day. (I needed to look as skinny as possible in my bikini!) I hadn't pooped since the toilet was strategically located in the middle of a room with 40 women in it. I was dehydrated and still in that damn bikini. I began to wonder how long I would be there. I wondered if I had been forgotten. I wondered if anyone would bother to miss their flight for me. I had no idea what to do, not that there was much I could do. No one told me anything. No one told me if I needed to be bailed out. No one told me how to work the phone. No one told me why it was taking so long.
I was getting antsy and most of the prostitutes had finished telling stories amongst themselves. The prostitutes had cast disapproving looks to the other girls as they cried on the phone to their loved ones. I agreed with their disapproval because the conditions weren't tear-worthy, unless maybe they had to poop. But at about hour 17 I began to crossover to the other side. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I began to seriously consider the possibility that I could be there for a long time.
At that moment, my name was finally called. My bail had been posted, and I was free. I walked out in the early morning light onto a sidewalk far away from the Strip but still wearing a bikini.
Needless to say this was one of the worst experiences of my life. Aside from an 18-hour glimpse into hell, I now had a court date, a record, legal bills in addition to the humiliation. My sister was a drug addict for over 10 years. She became addicted when we were teenagers. It tore our family apart an led her down a very dark path. I always attributed that experience as the reason I never experimented with anything aside from alcohol and marijuana. Now this fervent woman who had been so clean cut had a possession charge.
I was never so grateful to be done with a vacation in my life. The following days felt like being outside after an intense thunderstorm. Everything was soaking wet with shame and emotion. I was the cloud that had been wrung out. All of my energy and emotion had been wrung out.
My previous boyfriend returned not long after the incident. I felt like my life had significantly changed in so many ways in the few short months he was gone, and I didn't know if things would feel the same between the two of us. I had done so much bad. My ugliness was undeniable.
When we finally met with one another and I filled him in, he became grim. I thought for sure he was going to call me every derogatory name imaginable. He had every right to. Instead he told me loved me. He told me that more than anything he was concerned for my well-being. In that moment, his unconditional love drew me in. It didn't happen over night, but I began to see his strength of character. I saw once more his kind heart, his steady constant love and vision for a life together.
In this short story which is really an extremely rough overview of the past several months, it cannot possibly grasp all of the twists and turns and hard terrible and amazing moments, mostly because when it was all happening I had no idea that I was getting lost. I just kept taking more and more steps down a dark path away from the goodness and light I had found in myself and the people in my life. I kept telling myself that I had just taken a few steps out of my front yard, and I could at any point find my way back. But after so many dark steps off the path it became almost impossible to even see the light anymore. Confusion sets in and the finger-pointing starts. I began playing a game of "uncle" with the darkness in myself.
That moment that I was finally released from jail and stepped into the early morning light onto a quiet street miles from the Vegas strip, I had to cry 'uncle'. I could no longer ignore the fact that I was lost.
I know I am making it sound so simple. It kind of was and kind of wasn't. It was, in the sense that I realized all I had to do was follow the love, it would lead me back. It also wasn't simple because I had broken hearts, including my own. At times it seemed like climbing Mt. Everest trying to repair broken relationships, figure out what my next move was, and deal with my own broken hurting heart.
Over time and a lot of hard decisions, a lot of forgiveness, and a lot of love, I was able to see light in my life again. I was able to not only see it but feel it's warmth, use it to grow my garden and harness it to the rhythm of a beautiful life full of more honest unconditional love than I have ever known. It might not be the most exciting life, but it will always be the most exclusive club in town.
