Bad habits
Sleep Was My Only Friend
I hate to be this person but I guess I need to still let this one out. As a child I had no one consistently there for me and sleep was my only friend. Instead of actual objects, people, or make beliefs I had the concept of escaping reality, my reality as the only thing to protect me. I lived in a state of self hate from a young age and it has followed me through my adolescence into my early adulthood and it’s still scary. The concept of hating myself and having others hate me too has built up in this too much of an overwhelming happening. I never understood why. I never tried to find out why either at least not until now. Now that I’m at an age where it’s getting harder to hide away I must amplify my true purpose in life and undertake my fears and conquer them instead. Conquering my fears sounds somewhat easy and then completely difficult all at the same time.
By Keanna Barry 4 years ago in Confessions
You Can't Win If You Don't Play
I have a problem. Actually, I have a lot of problems, but let’s try to narrow the field a bit. I have a gambling problem. It’s minuscule, really. Tiny. Hardly worth mentioning, were it not for the fact that I break out in a cold sweat every time I pass a lotto machine, or the lottery counter at the grocery store, or the gas station, or the hundreds of other places where lottery tickets are apparently sold. I haven’t seen them at the library yet, but frankly, I’m surprised.
By Bev Potter4 years ago in Confessions
Why do we eat?
The quick answer would be just to survive, if you do not eat, you die. But when we are devastated after a breakup, waiting for an email or a call from work, or for some test results and suddenly feel the urge to have a sugary snack, does our life depend on that?
By Antonella Perazzoni4 years ago in Confessions
Harsh Reality
I didn’t wake up one day and tell myself…hey Brittany,let’s get some Heroin and a needle so you can inject yourself only to lose your self, self-esteem, morals, your precious children and everything you own. (Material) It took years of pain medication to turn into years of Heroin use. The dark road not only consumed me but also my husband. He died of an overdose in 2015 while I was serving my first prison sentence. You would think that losing my children and husband would have been enough for me to stop using. Nope, I spiraled down even more. I became homeless, living on the streets and in abandoned houses. Prostituting myself. Looking back at that makes my skin crawl. To think that I was walking the streets and down allies at 3am getting in strange men’s cars. Being raped at gun point. Still none of that mattered. I still chose to get high. The end of summer 2017 my mom let me come back home. I turned myself into the Miami county jail January 2018. I did a two week sanction and the day I was released I went strait to Crisis care, where I got on the vivitrol shot. Things were great at first, but I got bored. I went on a crack/Xanax binge. My mom calls them my retard pills. I have absolutely no filter when I’m under the influence of Xanax. Well while binging I didn’t check in with my P.O. (probation officer) needless to say I got arrested for the warrant they put out for absconding my probation. I did six months in Miami County jail then went to the Nova house (inpatient treatment) I did great! First time I ever completed any rehab. When I got home things were great but that was short lived. Started using again and said fuck probation catch me when you can. That attitude ended up with me getting my second prison number. My second prison sentence was different than the first. I wasn’t all up in the mix. I stayed to myself, listened to my music and read. I can’t really explain what happened but I had a spiritual awakening. I found myself and that’s when it started. I set three small realistic goals for when I got out. 1.Get my mind right 2. Get my License 3.Get back in school…. Fast forward to now…. I accomplished all three of my goals and then some. I work on my mental everyday! I have my license and a car of my own. (No car note) I’m currently going to a local community college. The only down fall is no one wants to hire a felon. It’s so frustrating when you work on self and you’re getting your shit back together that you can’t find a good job. I have paid my debt to society and it’s the breaks when No one wants to give you a chance. That’s the Harsh Reality of being an X-con with substance abuse issues.
By Brittany Reagan4 years ago in Confessions
Gaslighting and the Unrecognised abuse of psychological violence
I should have known something was wrong when, a few months into our relationship, he confronted me with a printed copy of my ICQ history (the year was 2004, people) in which I spoke to an ex-boyfriend who was much older and wiser than me about the doubts I had going into a new relationship with this boy I knew from college. I was so mortified with the shame of what he had found that I didn’t stop to wonder how had he managed to acquire that conversation. I was so busy apologising for a more than normal questioning that I let go of the fact that this relatively new man in my life had invaded my computer, stolen my data and printed it out to guilt me into a feeling of betrayal towards him. I accepted my role as the bad guy so hard I didn’t notice I was placing myself as a perpetual victim to his points of view.
By Nina Amaral4 years ago in Confessions
Vegas Vacation Horror Story
I was living in San Antonio Texas for a while and was waiting for a contract job that was going to start in about a week. My friend Tim decided we should go to Vegas for the weekend and gamble. I had $800 to burn so I said let’s go.
By William Frick4 years ago in Confessions
I want out
I remember this place. It’s been years at least since my last time cooped up in this room. I would venture to say I’ve spent most of my life outside these walls but I couldn’t be sure…what is time after all but the pasting together of moments? My days have been broken down into segments, there is the ‘sleep’ time, which takes up most of the day, then there is ‘meal time’ twice a day. Breakfast and dinner are tied for my favorite segments of the day. I get an occasional bathroom break but it’s really important that I’m quiet when they let me out of this room. I have had several close calls with a violent couple that have tried to attack me on sight. They have acted effectively as my prison guards, my watchdogs that detest the very notion of my comfort and peace. I hate them, I really do. The man in charge of this place isn’t much better either, he hates me but in his words “will tolerate [my] existence so long as [I] behave” My mother and father visit from time to time to tell me to keep my spirits up. Father says he will take me away from here soon, but I can tell that he has no real plan. Things have been extra harsh around here lately ever since my last protest. The man was starting to become upset with my drinking problem. I have a condition, you see, where I cannot drink water without making a mess all over the place. He demanded my water ration be cut; this disturbed me greatly. The man’s son is my roommate and to be honest: I like him; I think he’s alright but I resolved that he would suffer in solidarity with me. The good news was that I had done time with him in the past so I knew he wasn’t going to try to off me in my sleep, he’s not a man of that kind of conviction. That being said, he did annoy me with his claiming of the only bed in the room. I was perfectly happy to alternate between him sleeping on the floor and him sharing the bed with me once a week but he didn’t even ask what I thought on the matter. For that, I made it a point to rub my ass on his pillow every night. Anyway, the day my water ration was cut I was angry. On top of that injustice, I had only one bathroom break the entire day. In my anger I formulated the perfect plan of vengeance. A plan that if executed flawlessly would stay in the hearts and minds of my oppressors long after I am gone. I decided it was time to defecate all over our bed. I knew I wouldn’t mind the act; I’ve long since abandoned my dignity and my will to be civil in this barbaric world. The one issue was that of my mental block. Call it what you will but I am a shy pooper. I pushed and pushed much like a mother giving birth though in this moment I felt like less of a woman. Finally after much concentration, I had done it and it was one of my finest works I must say. There was a clear issue: it was too obvious, too clear, too simple, so I covered it with the blanket and marveled at the land mine I had produced. In this moment of my successful rebellion something odd happened within me: I felt empty, I wasn’t satisfied, I craved more, so I soaked the covers in my urine and waited. My roommate often disappears for large chunks of the day; he is allowed to go outside because of nepotism. After many long hours of sitting in the corner, I finally witnessed him reentering our room. I watched him cross the confined space; he seemed exhausted and dived into the bed without a second thought only to immediately regret it. He was immediately changed, broken, as he stood up to realize he was coated in my fluids and our sheets were painted with my essence. He cried out “No! Why!? What did I ever do to you?!” I sat there; watching him yell at me, the fool clearly did not understand the nature of chaos. He grabbed me by the neck and stuck my face in the filth as though that would make me regret my courageous act. I didn’t break; I wasn’t weak like him. Long story short, things have been tense around here since that incident. I stare out the window every day and long to feel the wind blow through my hair but it feels like my confinement has only gotten worse. I resolved to write this memoir from the safe haven I have found under our bed. It has kept me sane in these trying times, maybe one day…oh wait, the door is opening, hold on, I’ll be right back....
By Jacques Le Sante4 years ago in Confessions
Faith without works
The words "I believe", "I receive" "It will happen fast", "My faith is higher", as being anthems for everyone (Believers). The use of these words is without control and people believe and limit it to its potential power, forgetting the kinetic aspect of the words and sayings.
By Olalekan Adeeko4 years ago in Confessions
