shattered faith

michelle says she would die for me, she said it over and over, sobbing on my voicemail yesterday... but i only ever wanted her to live. what will become of me? and my whole life, picture of a sunny day.

heroin, the destroyer

I sent Michelle home to her parents' house today, to live there for the rest of the month. On Monday evening I found out she has been using heroin for a month or so. She was high when I got home. She has been getting it from this guy named Bill, who I knew was a drug connection, not a friend. I found the bags and I saw a tourniquet in the garbage can. I basically went into a state of shock and am still too overwhelmed to really feel this. After my therapy session last night I decided that I need some space to deal with it. It it not exactly the same, but it feels much like she had an affair in terms of all the deception. She loves me more than heroin, and she said that, and that I'm the first and only person she has loved more than heroin... but she still went there. At least five times, so... I'm surviving on meditation attempts, xanax, and a partial emotional shutdown.

On top of this, or underneath it, the pressure from school is immense. The expectations and demands are so high. Honestly, I feel like I can't do this. But another part of me knows that I can, so I keep taking the next step - reading the next assignment, writing the response, going to class. How I will write thirty pages during the first month of July is beyond comprehension. I don't even know what the fuck I'm supposed to write these papers about... I can't even really absorb the information I'm reading. The professors don't seem to realize that some people are taking more than one class and have a full time job. And now, Michelle will not be around to help me with simple things like grocery shopping, cooking, and laundry. I called her parents and told them she relapsed, and I asked her to stay there for the rest of the month. It was a sad goodbye this morning. We commuted to work together. I turned around as I got off the train at 34th street and I saw her looking down and starting to cry again. I said she can come back in July, and in the meantime I will try to focus on school. I don't understand the power of heroin addiction. It's like, I know she loves me more than anyone or anything, I know she loves her job, her life, yet she would RISK IT ALL. What is that? It's an evil drug. I truly hate it. It's another person inside her who runs her like she's just a shell. And her ability to lie is terrifying. How do I trust her again? I know I will try, I have to, I love her. I already forgive her insofar as she has hurt me. I guess I just have to take it one step at a time. I have to trust in my "higher power" or whatever. Some people are able to stay clean from heroin for years and lifetimes, even if they are always, inside, an addict. I think she can do that, if other people can do it. What will it take for her? She swears that she's going to get stronger and really work on getting control of this. She has a great therapist, an addiction specialist. But seeing that therapist didn't stop her from using...? They say addiction is not logical. I can grasp that. But that is the scariest part. It's fucking disgusting and sad! Michelle says that she will kill herself if she loses me. But knowing that, she still takes the risk, lying so convincingly, to my face, meanwhile pursing her drug - for weeks now, this has been happening. I suspected, but I couldn't prove it and I don't want to spend all my time being a detective. I want to trust her. My heart feels broken and I really just want to curl up into a ball hide, but even then, my thoughts will be there, and hell.

I don't want to be here but I belong here

Trapped in my own mind and my own extremely limited and somewhat demented consciousness! Why do I belong here? Because I am weak and lazy and I haven't worked hard enough at escaping? True, I pray more than most people, but I can't even fucking meditate! I must keep trying. I'm becoming more reading to give up, in a good way, and let go, in that I understand and accept that I belong here. But I don't want to be here! I want out... up... I want to escape pain badly enough to be willing to consider letting my self die. So I have been praying, mostly when I'm standing at the water on the west side highway looking over at New Jersey, saying I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE BUT I BELONG HERE but if there's any way I could move TOWARD the next level of consciousness, I'm ready, make me... really kind of begging god to make me brave enough to keep growing and changing. Then last night I had these intense dreams... only fragments remain. I dreamed this older lady was asking me if I'm ready to give up Maren. I said no! I love Maren (my teddy bear). I have slept with Maren almost every night of my whole life. She is a part of me. Well... so I said no, in my dream. There was another part of the dream where Michelle and I were rageful toward each other and went our separate ways for the night. The context and location was strange, I went "home" to a weird building and room. Also, there was a part of the dream where I was trying to catch the train and the doors were closing. My sister Cary or someone else tried to hold the doors for me but I didn't make it. Then I woke up with a horrible stomach ache from anxiety and couldn't go back to sleep. I took a little xanax and zantac and when I went back to sleep, I had a very sexual dream about Michelle. We were in a reclining "e-z boy" type chair and she was straddling me. We had clothes on and I was holding onto her hips and moving her into a good position for doing the girly grind. When I woke up, Tatiana (gato querido) was next to me as she had been all night, which is adorable. Michelle came into the room with coffee and a cigarette.

FUGAZI book of dragons

I know that most people are not interested in hearing others' dreams. But I am obsessed with dreams and must record them whenever they are vividly recalled. As you may know, if you have read much of my blog, which I'm sure hardly anyone has, my dreams frequently feature bathroom activities and are full of basic and one might even say archaic symbols.

Last night I dreamed I was at a crowded concert or performance, although it was over. I was with Missy, my childhood friend and (basically innocent) sexual playmate, and we were waiting for the bathroom. There was a line and general chaos all around. When it came to be my turn, I found the toilet was brimming with water and threatening to overflow. I found that if one sat down, the water would recede, but only insofar as the whole toilet seat was completely covered, so I used my hands, etc. to make this happen. Nevertheless, the water lapped at my bottom and I found this quite disgusting. I tried to pee for a while but could not do it. Later on, I found Missy and she wanted to use the bathroom. There was someone in there, but she suddenly exclaimed that she had to have a b.m., so she went in anyway. When the door opened, I saw a girl standing over the toilet backward, working it that way, and thought I might have tried that. I heard her passing gas. Then I saw a large puddle of diarrhea spreading from an unseen part of the bathroom where Missy had rushed into, and I knew she had an accident. I felt sorry for her and wondered how she might clean up and change her clothes. Later in the dream, I was trying to find the people I came to the concert with, but I was lost and upset. Then I saw my sister Cary, and she was happy to see me too, as she couldn't find anyone. Then I looked down and saw a beautiful, large book. I picked it up and it was full of bright, red, yellow, and gold images of dragons and other seemingly Chinese or Asian works of art. The title of the book was Fugazi. I asked my sister if the book was from the concert we had attended earlier. She didn't know. I think it belonged to a couple of guys. Then I felt like I had cramps so I reached into my pants and felt for blood. Indeed, I had started my period. Then other family members appeared and I suddenly wanted to smoke some weed and I expressed that desire.

Fugazi has several meanings. Generally it has been understood as a military term for a combat situation in Vietnam that was considered untenable. It is an acronym: "Fucked Up, Got Ambushed, Zipped In." It implies the need to flee, of flying; hence, fleeting, transitory. Additionally, according to a ninja dictionary I found online, it refers to an artificial, fake, or false person.

This may have something to do with the stress I'm experiencing in school, although I don't quite see the connection. My summer classes are way more intense than I expected. The amount of reading to do and papers I have to write for these two classes (romanticism and caribbean lit) is actually inhuman. I have been in a state of panic for about 48 hours. I certainly would like to flee. In the next five weeks, I must read about eight books and write fifty pages or so... Now, I am a person who likes to concentrate on one thing at a time, not to mention I prefer a longer writer process including the creation of several drafts and time to process ideas - and this situation requires me to work in a different way. I need some ritalin, cocaine, and klonopin, asap. That's a joke actually, I can't do that. However, I do need to be constantly working, which means I probably won't write very many blogs this month. Oh, well... who cares anyway!!? There's enough here to keep any bored, lonely, curious, or similar person (or any combination thereof) busy for a while.

PS. I also dreamed my mother was gaining her weight back. She had gastric bypass a couple years ago, as you may or may not know. In my dream, I was worried for her. I felt depressed, as if her compulsive eating was an undefeatable disease.