On iPods, and addictions – the ramblings of a middle aged lesbian.

Well of course the iPod is an addiction and listening to Melissa Ferrick’s new CD …live at Brooklyn Hall. Over, and over, and over, and over again. Melissa and I are in the obsessive compulsive phase of our relationship. OK I am stalking her (at least her music).

Nuf said.

But isn’t an addiction of any kind to music, to sex, to smoking, or drinking, or drugs, or sex, or sex, or sex (oops). I once saw an ad in the paper for a “sex addicts” meeting. I laughed, I thought to myself “wow finally a good place to meet people”.

I digress again…I warned all “this is a rambling”.

But addictions fill that empty place. When I was smoking it was all about filling a void “want ‘x’ can’t have it, can have a cigarette”. “Angry about ‘y’ can’t do anything about it, can have a cigarette. And on, and on, and on, and over and over again. Until you have a nasty disgusting habit, an addiction.

When I quit, now over three years ago — it was such a crazy time, so hard to do — all kinds of feelings bubbling up, nervous energy, crap you repress…this huge hole, this big, vast, painful empty place.

And I had to sit with it, sit with every feeling that came up, I had to just sit with the empty place and grow through it.

In those moments when I couldn’t, I picked up the little pink Nano and I walked, and I walked, and I walked…sometimes for two or three hours I just walked. I’d end up miles from home, exhausted and turn around and walk back.

A transfer of addiction. I am not fooled, from one thing to another. Don’t smoke, exercise.

Oh I don’t walk for hours on end too much anymore – OK I do – but now it’s just one small aspect of my business (I am paid to walk and listen to Melissa Ferrick). It’s blissful.

How to end Thursday’s first ramble? What about with some writing by James Frey, controversial author of “A Million Pieces” and you know I don’t care if he elaborated on his reality or made the whole story up. It’s a fine piece of writing from someone who truly understands addiction.

There is no forgetting today. I know that as soon as I enter the wood. The Fury takes over. It envelops every emotion every feeling every thought that I have. I can’t deal with emotions feelings thoughts so I let the Fury deal with them. It consumes them. The sadness I feel turns to rage, the calm to a desperate need. I want to destroy everything I see. That which I can’t destroy, I want to ingest. With each step that I take, it grows. Rage and need. Rage and need. Rage. Need.

I want a drink. I want fifty drinks. I want a bottle of the purest, strongest, most destructive, most poisonous alcohol on Earth. I want fifty bottles of it. I want crack, dirty and yellow and filled with formaldehyde. I want a pile of powder meth, five hundred hits of acid, a garbage bag filled with mushrooms, a tube of glue bigger than a truck, a pool of gas large enough to drown in. I want something anything whatever however as much as I can. Want need want need I want need enough to annihilate make me lose make me forget dull the motherfucking pain give me the darkest darkness the blackest blackness the deepest deepest deepest most horrible fucking hole. Goddamn it to fucking Hell, give it to me. Put me in the fucking hole.

I leave the trail, force my way through heavy, frozen wood. I am shaking and my heart is racing and I am clenching my fists and I am clenching my jaw. My feet are snapping twigs and crushing infant sapling trees, my arms are removing whatever stands in front of me. The sharp sounds of destruction, a snap crack snap crack, incense me, enrage me, make me want to break more, destroy more, ruin everything everywhere. I want to fucking ruin.

I break through a stand of think Evergreen and into a small, tight, circular Clearing. I stop walking forging pushing fighting and I close my eyes and I take a deep breath and I hope that the breath will calm me but it doesn’t so I take another and it doesn’t another doesn’t another doesn’t another doesn’t. I want to be calm but there is no calm for me.

How I am here. How I have arrived in this place in this moment on this day with this feeling history future problems life this horrible fucked-up-good-for-nothing waste of a life how. Fifteen minutes ago I was holding a lifelong Criminal and cocaine Addict who spent his childhood with his Father’s dick in his mouth as he cried because he was scared to go back to the World. I ate my lunch with some kind of menacing middle-aged movie-star Look-alike and a three-strike Fugitive and a Steel Worker with torn-out hair plugs and a one hundred-ten-pound Ghost who used to be the Champion of the World. I was given a coloring book and told it would help make me better. I watched some Judge’s stupid fucking video and I was told it would make me feel better. I got sick, just like I do every other fucking day, and I am not getting better. I am twenty-three years old and I’ve been an alcoholic for a decade and a drug Addict and a Criminal for almost as long and I’m wanted in three states and I’m in a Hospital in the middle of Minnesota and I want to drink and I want to do some drugs and I can’t control myself. I’m twenty three.

I breathe and I shake and I can feel it coming the rage and need and confusion regret horror shame and hatred fuse into perfect Fury a great and beautiful and terrible and perfect Fury the Fury and I can’t stop the Fury or control the Fury I can only let the Fury come come come come come. Let it motherfucking come. The Fury has come.

I see a tree and I go after it. Screaming punching kicking clawing tearing ripping dragging pulling wrecking punching screaming punching screaming punching screaming. It is a small tree, a small Pine Tree, small enough that I can destroy it, and I rip the branches from its trunk and I tear them to pieces one by one I rip them and I tear them and I throw them to the ground and I stomp them stomp them stomp them and when there are no more branches I hear a voice and I ignore it and I throw the broken trunk on top of the branches and one half of it is still in the ground I hear a voice and I want it out of the fucking ground and I grab it and pull pull pull and it doesn’t budge this fucking tree I want to destroy it and I let go of it and there is a voice I ignore I start kicking kicking kicking and the voice says stop stop stop stop. Stop.
I turn around.
Long black hair and deep clean blue eyes and skin pale white and lips blood red she’s small and thin and worn and damaged. She is standing there.
What are you doing here?
I was taking a walk and I saw you and I followed you.
What do you want.
I want you to stop.
I breathe hard, stare hard, tense and coiled. There is still more tree for me to destroy I want the fucking tree. She smiles and she steps toward me, toward toward toward me, and she opens her arms and I’m breathing hard staring hard tense and coiled and she puts her arms around me and one hand on the back of my head and she pulls me into her arms and she holds me and she speaks.
It’s okay.
I breathe hard, close my eyes, let myself be held.
It’s okay.
Her voice calms me and her arms warm me and her smell lightens me and I can feel her heart beat and my heart slows and I stop shaking and the Fury melts into her safety and she holds me and she says.
Something else comes and it makes me feel weak and scared and fragile and I don’t want to be hurt and this feeling is the feeling I have when I know I can be hurt and hurt deeper and more terribly than anything physical and I always fight it and control it and stop it but her voice calms me and her arms warm me and her smell lightens me and I can feel her heart beat and if she let me go right now I would fall and the need and confusion and fear and regret and horror and shame and weakness and fragility are exposed to the soft strength of her open arms and her simple word okay and I start to cry. I start to cry. I start to cry.

It comes in waves. The waves roll deep and from deep the deep within me and I hold her and she holds me tighter and I let her and I let it and I let this and I have not felt this way this vulnerability or allowed myself to feel this way this vulnerability since I was ten years old and I don’t know why I haven’t and I don’t know why I am now and I only know that I am and that it is scary terrifying frightening worse and better than anything I’ve ever felt crying in her arms just crying in her arms just crying.
She guides me to the ground but she doesn’t let go. The Gates are open and thirteen years of addiction, violence, Hell and their accompaniments are manifesting themselves in dense tears and heavy sobs and a shortness of breath and a profound sense of loss. The loss inhabits, fills and overwhelms me. It is the loss of a childhood of being a Teenager of normalcy of happiness of love of trust of reason of God of Family of friends of future of potential of dignity of humanity of sanity of myself of everything everything everything. I lost everything and I am reduced to a mass of mourning, sadness, grief, anguish and heartache. I am lost. I have lost. Everything. Everything.
It’s wet and Lilly cradles me like a broken Child. My face and her shoulder and her shirt and her hair are wet with my tears. I slow down and I start to breathe slowly and deeply and her hair smells clean and I open my eyes because I want to see it and it is all that I can see. It is jet black almost blue and radiant with moisture. I want to touch it and I reach with one of my hands and I run my hand from the crown along her neck and her back to the base of her rib and it is thin perfect sheer and I let it slowly drop from the tips of my fingers and when it is gone I miss it. I do it again and again and she lets me do it and she doesn’t speak she just cradles me because I am broken. I am broken. Broken.
There is a noise and Lilly pulls me tighter and tighter and I pull her in tighter and tighter and I can feel her heart beating and I know she can feel my heart beating and they are speaking our hearts are speaking a language wordless old unknowable and true and we’re pulling and holding and the noise is closer and the voices louder and Lilly whispers.
You’re okay.
You’re okay.
You’re okay.
And she lets me go and I let her go and she stands and I stay and she stares down at me.
I have to go.
I stare at her.
I”ll call you later.
I stare at her.
I stare at her and she backs away toward the far edge of our Clearing. When she reaches the edge she turns around and she dissapears through Evergreen thick and I hear her step settling and her step is gentle and I hear her voice intermingle and her voice is gentle and I sit and I breathe and I sit and I stare. I am alone, lost and broken. I stare at the Evergreen thick. Alone lost broken.
The Sun is falling and the cold is running and the night is descending and I’m tired, spent and completely empty. I force myself to stand and I make my way through the trees until I pick up a Trail and then I let the Trail lead me. My feet are heavy, my body is tired and my heart is beating slow slow slow. The walk is only a couple hundred yards, but it seems across the Earth.


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