My Blog

The loss of my dog has me all. over. the. place. I feel like I have no love in me to give. I have barely been affectionate with my boyfriend since we put Boomer down. It’s not anything to do with him really, I don’t think. I’m just sad. Beyond sad.

I get all these impulsive thoughts and my instinct is to act on them. I had the idea that maybe I need to get my own place, to give Dylan some space. But the past few days I’ve had thoughts of smoking crack. If I did, I couldn’t bring it back to our apartment because we have the kittens now. And I know I don’t wanna put up and sit with my dealer just so I can use. So all in all, how about we don’t smoke crack!? Now back to the impulsive thought to move out on my own; I would be able to use no problem if I felt like it. SO, we will squash the idea of living on our own. Not safe.

Although, I get a monthly disability cheque that could pay for my rent for a really nice one bedroom. And then I could escort to pay for my habit. Have a nice place and be in la la land forever sounds really nice right now. I can just picture it. Isn’t that crazy? Why would I want to picture myself alone in an apartment smoking crack. Because I’m sick. It’s so fucked up.

Thinking about escorting makes me cringe. I can’t believe I did it for almost three years. It’s scary because I never want to go back to that life, but at the same time my disease craves that life. (In NA we call our addiction “My Disease.” They say addiction is a disease and not a moral dilemma.) They also say in the meetings that we’re always right next to the ditch. Meaning we could relapse any moment if we don’t stay vigilent.