Posted in Daily Diary

A Narrative from My Past

The day started like any other day previous. I woke up dope-sick and immediately started scheming for ways to find money to cure my daily sickness. For a few days prior, there was this girl named Carmen contacting me to look through a tote of jeans I had listed online. I had been putting her off because I was finding other ways to fulfill my habit, but when I woke up on this chilly October morning, nothing else was proving fruitful. Meeting her became the quickest way I was going to be able to not be sick all day, so I started to make arrangements.

“How would 4:00 work for you?” I messaged her.

She quickly responded, “That would be great! How about meeting at the Speedway on Secor and Laskey?” to which I confirmed.

I jumped in my car, dripping with sweat but freezing, nauseated from every smell that crossed my nose, beyond restless, thoughts racing a mile a minute.

“I hope she finds something she wants,” I thought to myself. “Hopefully she brought enough cash with her so I can at least get through the next few hours,” I mumbled to myself as I sped down the street.

I reached Speedway, pulled into a parking spot, and messaged her, “I’m in a black Hummer.” No longer than five minutes later, as I waited profusely sweating, she pulls up next to me and parks in the spot to my right. Before I can get out to greet her a truck pulls in behind and blocks me in while another vehicle races into the parking spot on the other side of me. A tall, muscular man gets out of the vehicle to my left and opens my driver’s side door.

“Miss Kowalski?” he asks.

“Yes?” I say in confusion.

“You are under arrest for jumping bail, please step out and place your arms behind your back,” he states matter-of-factly.

Reluctantly I complied, and they placed me into the back of one of their cars. As if my mind wasn’t racing enough already, I began rationalizing in my mind how to talk myself out of this situation. I wasn’t going to be able to get my drugs today, and I knew what this meant for me. I pondered on the impending doom I would soon be facing. The macho man and the girl that had deceived me started to explain to me the circumstances I was in.

“Ms. Kowalski, according to my paperwork you have several warrants from almost every court in Northwest Ohio,” the officer explained, “after you are booked in you will have no bail.”

“Which means you won’t be getting out any time soon. One of your warrants actually specifies a mandatory 30-day sentence,” the deceitful girl added.

After hearing these details, my drug addled mind went into overdrive. For the first time since the commencement of my arrest record, I would not be able to get out of sitting in jail. I begged and pleaded with the two to let me go to no avail. Within a half-hour, I was sitting in the Lucas County Correctional Center with five different cases and no way out.

Many years previous, I was prescribed pain killers for an autoimmune disease I was diagnosed with and eventually my tolerance grew far out of control. For the last two years, I was heavily using several different kinds of street drugs to escape my pain as well as self-medicate. Never in a million years did I foresee my life ending up in the ruins that it was now in. When I was a young girl, I never thought I would be able to say, “I have been to jail,” let alone, “I was a drug addict.” But here I was, in an environment I never wanted to experience for longer than a day. Each time I had been in this situation in the past, I was quickly on the phone calling everyone I could think of to manipulate my way into having my bail posted. I was now sitting in a tiny five-by-eight cell. Cold concrete and steel were my only surroundings… and I was stuck. My eyes kept skimming the walls as there wasn’t much to look at except some encouraging words others had written such as “keep your chin up” scribbled in toothpaste. Within hours my body realized what my mind had already, I wasn’t getting out. I wouldn’t be finding relief. I wouldn’t be able to feed my body the substance it had become so greatly dependent on to function. Not only did my environment make me feel completely out of my element, but now I was heading into withdrawal which only grew more severe by the minute. Eventually, I was throwing up every fifteen minutes regardless of if my stomach had anything to expel. My tongue was constantly coated with the sourness of my stomach bile.

There wasn’t a moment’s rest during those first sixteen days. My body was detoxifying itself from all the poison I had been supplying it. Constant noise surrounded me. There were keys jingling through the corridors every half hour or more, doors slamming, people moaning, yelling, and banging on their cell doors. It never stopped.

Luckily, I found some solace with the prisoner in the cell next to me, Jennifer. Standing around five foot tall, with waist-length black hair, she intrigued me with her spunky, carefree personality. While we were locked in our cells, we would sing songs to each other back and forth. It was a welcome distraction from the excruciating symptoms my body was experiencing. “Boy don’t you know you can’t escape me, Ooh darling cause you’ll always be my baby,” we would sing. I would talk to her about my withdrawal process and how I had been so scared to endure such a struggle.

She assured me, “You will get through this.”

Jennifer would talk about her addiction frequently, but her unwillingness to try to overcome it resounded.

“I can already taste it,” she would say, referring to the drugs.

I, too, could taste the drugs every time I thought of them. It would be the easy way out. I fought with myself so much throughout this time, however, I had been dreaming of this day for so long. My fear of physical withdrawal had always been so great that my desire to be clean and sober never surpassed it. Sitting in front of me now was my opportunity. I had finally faced withdrawal and now the fear of what a “clean” life would entail started to sink into my mind. How would I ever begin to rebuild all that I had lost? Would I ever be able to function like a “normal” human being again? It was all too easy to demolish the successful life that I once led, but it would be a hundred times harder to attempt to reconstruct a life worth living now.

When I was first booked into the county jail I made a few phone calls. One of them was to my mother. I hadn’t spoken to her in a while, and it was an awkward conversation.

“Your dad has been keeping an eye on you through court records online. He saw that you had several warrants out, and we were wondering when we were going to get this call,” she told me.

It wasn’t like I was unaware that I was wanted by the law, but at that point, the drugs were driving my behavior, and I wasn’t willing to go without them. I knew that if I were to turn myself in I would subject myself to the very situation I was currently sitting in. Now it was time to call her again, let her know how I was doing, and discuss with her a possible game plan to stay clean once I was released. I still wasn’t sure if I was fully committed to the process, but I knew in my heart if I gained the support of my mother and father I would stand a chance at sobriety.

“How serious are you about this, Kali?” my mother asked sympathetically.

“I don’t expect you to believe anything I say, but for the first time in my life, I want nothing more than a real-life,” I tried to communicate as genuinely as possible.

I was in a desperate situation and knew that if I returned to the same environment I was existing in, I may be tempted to return to my previous routine. There was nothing healthy about the way I was living prior to my arrest. The fight inside my head was absolutely torturous. The basis of what I was thinking was, “Should I stay or should I go?” I knew that my mother and the rest of my family were hesitant to let me back into their lives, let alone their home. I had begun a habit of calling my mother every day. Not to ask for anything but to speak to her about my state of mind. I wanted to refrain from asking her in each call if I could come home, give her some time to consider what all that would entail. At the end of every call, we would pray together. This brought my soul so much peace.

Distraction was my only way to get through the withdrawal. If I didn’t keep myself distracted the symptoms grew worse. The near-artic cold, steel toilet in my cell had become my best friend. Not only would I hug him every ten minutes or so, but I would also sit on his “lap” nearly just as often. Luckily there was a sink attached to this steel contraption of a friend. This proved especially useful when the poison I once fed myself was expelling from both ends of my body. After just a few days my bodily functions were adding to the strange smells that once filled my tiny jail cell. Now, not only did it smell like the artificial dog food they were feeding us, it smelled like vomit and bowel movements. This surely didn’t help my nausea situation. Restlessness abounded as well. I would pace my cell during the short moments I had between showing affection for my steel toilet of a friend. There were a few books that were laid in the small common area of our detox pod. I read all of them during this time. However, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t lay still on the thin mat they supplied to us for our bunk. So, I paced the small area of my cell, book in hand, so often I thought I was wearing a pattern on the floor. I couldn’t sleep while the process of detoxing was occurring, so I paced the floor so terribly often. One evening, as everyone was sleeping, I was pacing with my book in my hand. Having not slept for many days my body decided to shut down while standing. I had fallen asleep with a book in my hand, eyes open, near the small window of my cell door. I was awakened to a correctional officer at the door, doing her nightly rounds with a flashlight. Her gasp startled me.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

To which I replied, “I think so.” I had to add a laugh at the end to lighten the awkward situation.

I can’t imagine how strange it must have been to see a prisoner standing at the cell door, eyes wide open, motionless, as she shines the flashlight in the room expecting me to be asleep in my bunk like all the other prisoners at such a time of the night.

My withdrawals eventually started to get better. For someone who hasn’t experienced such a thing, it would be hard to describe the immense relief which this brought. Sixteen days. Sixteen whole days is what it took for my body to even start to feel normal again. I still wasn’t able to sleep through the night, but I would force myself to drift off for small twenty-minute “cat naps” throughout the day. I could see an analog clock on the wall if I angled myself correctly near the small window in my cell door. If I fell asleep, when I awoke, I would get so incredibly excited thinking that I had slept for at least an hour or two. To my dismay, every time, the clock hands wouldn’t move as much as I had hoped. Dreaming while going through withdrawal felt almost like an acid trip. My dreams were so incredibly vivid that when I awakened from them my heart would be pounding out of my chest. Who would think that you could have such vivid dreams within such a small window of time? Twenty minutes, that’s it. At least I was getting some rest those last couple weeks of my sentence, even if it was only a quarter of an hour each time. In my mind, it added up to something substantial.

It was now getting close to my release date and decisions needed to be made about my chances of maintaining the productive state I was in with my recovery. The uncertainty hung over my head like a dark cloud. Somehow, I still held some determination to keep myself clean and make some serious changes in my life. So, I made up my mind to make that difficult phone call to my mother.

She answers and hears, “You are receiving a collect call from an inmate of a correctional institution. Your call will be monitored and recorded. Thank you for using GTL.”

I am sure every time she heard this recording certain strong emotions flooded through her veins.

I swallowed my pride and just started speaking, “I know we’ve briefly discussed this before, but I strongly believe that living with my family again is my best chance at keeping myself clean and out of trouble.”

There was a pause in the conversation. One that felt like a lifetime; a pause that caused an immediate physical reaction. My heart was pounding, my hands were sweating so much that the phone started to slip in my hand. My stomach was doing backflips and I wasn’t able to inhale the proper amount of oxygen at this point.

“Mom?” I asked.

I had to make the first verbal offering after proposing such a perceived crazy notion.

“Kali, me and your dad have talked many times about you coming back home with us,” she said and slowly continued, “we aren’t sure where this is going to go, but I’ve started making a room for you in our home. You are welcome here if you keep doing the right thing.”

I gasped in disbelief and replied, “It may not be very valuable, but I give you my word that I won’t let you down this time, mom. I love you so much. Thank you.”

As much as I knew their support was my greatest chance of success, I didn’t believe I would be given the opportunity. The hopelessness of my addiction had taken over not only my body but the thoughts in my mind as well. I didn’t think I was worth saving, so I wasn’t willing to save myself… until now.

My last few days in jail seemed like they were the longest. The anticipation of returning to society was overwhelming. Not only was I going to be joining the “free world,” I was going to be starting a new life. A new life in a new environment with expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet, but new opportunities I became passionate about. I was excited and frightened all in the same breath. Each one of those breaths within those last days I was more than grateful for. Before I was released, I had to appear in court in front of the judge. During the hearing, the judge determined, among other requirements, I was to attend substance abuse treatment, and much to my surprise, I was looking forward to exploring this. I was more than ready to dive into recovery and all it entailed head-first.

I made a final call to my mother.

“We went and picked up Pedro, Kali. He was so happy to see us. He immediately jumped in the car,” my mother told me.

So much joy rushed over me when I realized this was truly happening and she had picked up my dog. He was finally out of that toxic environment as well.

“Are you going to let us know what time you’re going to be released so we can pick you up?” she asked.

“Absolutely. But I don’t have any clothes or anything, mom,” I told her concerned about how I was going to gather my belongings.

“We already went over there, Kali. We had Brooke point everything out to us, packed it up, and hauled it home,” she told me much to my relief.

I began to cry. “Home,” she had said. Everything was falling into place. I would be going home when I walked out the doors. Such a sense of calm and peace rushed over my body. This wasn’t the first time that I realized it, but I knew at this moment that all that had happened, as uncomfortable and traumatic as it had been, happened for a reason. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover my attitude toward this entire experience. I know that I would never have gotten clean unless it had been for this arrest and the unavoidable sentence to serve time in jail. This experience is one I will never forget. It remains close to my heart and I will continue to look upon it with gratitude for the rest of my life. The strength I exhibited throughout this time helped me to believe in myself and my ability. I believed I was worthy for the first time in a long time, and I knew in my heart that if I was resilient enough to overcome this that I could make it through anything life decided to throw at me.

Posted in Daily Diary

The word “Love” doesn’t cover it…

So this morning I had a ton of thoughts running through my mind about this wonderful person I have been lucky enough to have standing by my side through all the ugliness. I was reluctant to even send it because it’s kind of a messy expression of my feelings for him. However, it felt important to me to just pour it out. For some reason I now feel compelled to post it to my blog. I want the world to know how I feel for this person. Even though I know the world doesn’t visit this website, but there are a few people that do.

Anyway… here it is. A random love letter composed of messy thoughts about the man I have completely fallen, in every sense of the word, for.

Please don’t get the wrong idea when I say this, but the truth is… I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. I cannot read stars or converse with fate. But I do know this: I’m all in, here and now, until I’m dead in the dirt. No matter how difficult it gets, or how desperately the world tries to tear us apart… I’ll be yours. 

I know that sometimes I am hard to love. Some days I’m all smiles and affection and other days there’s nothing I want more than to remain quiet and lie in bed. Sometimes I hold onto stupid things and it won’t be easy to open up. Please don’t give up on me. I know it’s not easy, but try to remember what we’re working toward… together.

I keep thinking of how much I love talking to you, how good you look when you smile… how much I love your laugh. I’ve memorized your face and the way you look at me. I daydream about you off and on all day. Replaying our conversations, laughing at silly things you’ve said or did. I often catch myself smiling, always to thoughts of you. Even though neither one of us may know what the future holds for us… there’s one thing I know for sure… you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I will be damned if I let anything destroy what we are building. 

It’s so easy for me to love you that it frightens me. I’ve never wanted anything so much as I want to hold you every waking minute. And every night while I sleep.

It is you. It is fucking you. I cannot describe it anymore, it is you. You are the only one that I will ever want. I belong with you. I look at you and somehow I can see 50 years from now on the front porch of our house in the middle of nowhere and we’re together. I need you. You are the only thing that matters. You are my home. 

Try to forget about your past for just a second and listen…

I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave. I won’t give up. And I will be here every single time you need me. You can doubt it. You can try to push me away because you think I’ll leave anyway but it will never be true. There could be a hundred million reasons to leave and you will always be the reason that I stay. 

This may sound funny but, you will always be my first love. Not like the first guy, or the first kiss, but my first true strong feeling. I knew from the first moment I saw you that my heart would eventually belong to you. There was just something in me that has always been drawn to you. Even though life lead us in different directions for some time, all that has happened has happened for a reason. God knew that it wasn’t the right time until now. And now, you will get the best of me and I will never regret loving you, and waiting to love you until this moment. 

I’m so completely in love with you. Whole, true love. The kind of love that burns so intense it feels like an explosion of fireworks in your body. The love that leaves you sleepless but exhilarated, speechless but poetic, lost but exactly where you’re meant to be. The feel-so-much-you-get-scared kind of love. The can’t-sleep-can’t-eat kind of love. The love I never truly knew I was searching for… I found in you.

Sometimes when I look at you and you’re looking back at me I can see something. This teeny-tiny hint of something more. Maybe something you’re feeling but can’t say. When our eyes meet, it’s like we’re instantly connected. It’s like our own little secret… a place we go to when everything around us is crazy and we just need some semblance of normal. Goodness, how I get lost in your eyes. You ask me all the time when I stare into your eyes, sometimes shake my head, what I’m thinking and all I can think of in that moment is “I love this man deeper than any love I’ve ever experienced.” The word “love” doesn’t seem to even cover the depths of what I feel for you. There are times I want nothing more than to look you in the eyes, cause it’s when we’re looking at each other in silence that we end up saying the most. I believe that when two people are in love with each other, you can see it in their eyes. The way they look at each other, the way they stare at each other, it’s all there. Their eyes are full of admiration, of attraction, of undying feelings for each other. Their eyes twinkle, their eyes are smiling. Even if they didn’t say a word about it, there’s this invisible thread connecting the two. 

I had reached a point in my life where I no longer believed in the idea of soulmates, or love like I’ve found in you. I am now beginning to believe that in a rare moment of your life, if you are just lucky enough, someone who was exactly right for you may enter your life. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together. 

It takes a certain type of man to be able to understand that a woman who is let down repeatedly, starved of simple things in a relationship… like peace, tenderness, and common respect, and is used to always having to fight to be heard… doesn’t know what a “happy” relationship feels like. So it takes a certain type of man to want her to experience this feeling, to have the patience to walk her through it until she gets used to a new kind of normal. A loving normal. A breathe-easy normal. A stress-free normal… this elusive happy normal. 

The best love is unexpected. You don’t just pick someone and cross your fingers it will work out. The two come together by fate and it’s an instant connection, and the chemistry shared is way above your head. You just talk and notice the way their lips curve when they smile or the color of their eyes… and all at once you know you’re either lucky or screwed. But here it is…

I was so undeserving, and yet, you were relentless. I pushed- you pulled. I wept- you embraced. I bled- you repaired. I stopped- you smiled. I was a disaster, the worst of its kind. And yet, you still had the audacity to let me know that I was beautiful. It’s a very powerful thing when someone sees you as the person you wish you were. 

When it comes down to it, you’re the only one I want. You’re the only one I can imagine myself with. Your hands are the only hands I want to hold. Your lips are the only lips I ever want to kiss. Your voice is the only sound I want to fall asleep to and your eyes are the only sight I want to wake up to. You’re my first thought when I open my eyes and you’re the last thought running through my mind before I drift off to sleep. You’re absolutely the only person I can see myself happy with. I’ve looked up at the sky and whispered “take anything away from me, take it all if you want to, but please- please, let me keep this one thing.”

Pouring all of this out in all of its randomness seems crazy to me. I have thoughts of not wanting to send this to you, not wanting to send this vulnerable, messy, part of me. The thing is, I trust you with it. I need to remind myself that expressing myself to you has never been a risk. You’ve always embraced it with open arms. All that we have together is absolutely foreign to me. I will never be able to fully show you my appreciation for all that you are and all that you do for me, but I will always try my hardest to express it in some small measure. As silly as it may seem to me, as poorly put-together all of this appears to me… I hope that it will mean something to you. 

I love you, Chris. Period. Even though the word “love” will never fully cover all that I feel for you. 

Posted in Daily Diary

Vunerable Weakness

I don’t really understand why, but lately I have been having some serious weak moments. I am trying so hard to remember that I cannot always be this strong person I portray. Something that I have continually struggled with is admitting, asking, or verbalizing moments where I am in need of help or support. I am surrounded with some truly amazing people that want to help me through these difficult times- but I have this part of me that feels like I am a burden or that I am unnecessarily adding things to their plate that are not their responsibility.

It’s odd to me that I can spew all these things that I have learned. “It’s okay to ask for help,” “This mess cannot fixed overnight,” “Everyone needs support”… I don’t know- things along those lines. I have learned so much in the last seven months it is absolutely incredible. After believing that I had all the tools to take on this new chapter of my life- thinking “I got this.” I was awakened to so much more knowledge- yet I was just recently told that I am having trouble letting this knowledge transfer from my brain to my heart. And I completely feel that. It will come with time- another cliche that I constantly tell myself.

I just want everything right now. I want it all to come together the way it should have years ago when I was out being a dumbass. I struggle with that. I want all the things that healthy, “normal” people acquire and accomplish. Now. I don’t want this process to be the journey that it must be. I want instant gratification and I want to do it all on my own.

This last week has truly been a test on me in many aspects. Emotional roller coaster at its finest. I find myself swimming in my thoughts all too often lately. Feeling like I am not good enough, I am not doing enough, and that it will never happen for me. I need to remember that every day I accomplish something on my to-do list. I am moving forward even if it’s at a slow and steady pace.

Funny story I just remembered. I went into a facitily for a few months and there was a section of the program that focused on the importance of taking on this whole recovery process slow and steady. To break up the monotony we had a craft that we were supposed to do. We made turtles. The girls there actually were so impressed with my silly little turtle that they had me make another for the display we made on the wall with them. It was a cute little thing. I ended up taking my turtles with me when I left and I think it may be a good thing to hang them up. To remind me that I don’t need to expect everything to happen now, that this truly is a journey and I was put in this position for a reason and there are definitive things that I am supposed to learn and experience during this process.

Wow. Just writing some crazy random thoughts here has helped me purge some of this. I am doing okay. I am doing everything I am expected to do and I don’t need to overwhelm myself. These people were put into my life for a reason and even though I continue to remain open with them, it is okay to ask for support when I need it. I have a hard time accepting that I am worthy of their love and support. But I am- they think so and I need to think so.

My turtles… 😉
Posted in Daily Diary

So THIS happened…

I jumped out of an airplane. No joke. I did it. Something I have long been wanting to do, and this wonderful man made it happen for me. We jumped at the opportunity (pun intended) and with both feet… just did it. It was absolutely exhilarating. I have never felt so free in my life. What an experience. At this point, nothing in my life compares to it.

When I say “free”… I mean it. In every sense of the word. Free of all the baggage, free of all the negativity in my life. Free of everything that was previously holding me back and weighing me down. It motivates me to continue to work hard to build a better life for myself so that I can continue to have experiences like this.

I experienced some truly raw emotions during all of this and it reminded me of the kind of human I strive to be… an open, honest, genuinely raw, vunerably REAL human being. Thank God for freeing me of my past and allowing me to find my truest self.

Below is a video of the whole event. Now, I’m self-conscious of how much weight I have gained since getting clean… but seriously, screw it. I love this new me, and if this is the skin I’ve been given to exist as this new me in- then I love every inch of it!

Posted in Daily Diary

the Struggle is REAL

Even though I am having trouble writing all of my deepest, darkest secrets out… I’ve got it in progress. It’s so much more that I would have ever thought to start writing. But at the same time it’s therapeutic. I know in my heart that this is something I need to do, for myself.

I decided to take a break from it though. Reliving the past is something more difficult than I would have imagined. It’s something so shameful to me. And until recently I didn’t truly realize how much shame and guilt I carry around for the things I have done. But I will be candid here and just say…

I am a recovering addict.

That’s something I never would have dreamed in a million years that I would have to claim, or have to live with for the rest of my life. I come from a good family, had a great childhood, was successful, and driven, and had so much going for me. Even still, it happened. And it’s something that I have to deal with. Something that I am currently dealing with.

I know now deep in my soul that everything happens for a reason. I needed to go through what I went through in order to come out the other side as this new, enlightened person. There is no way that I would have been lead to the things and realizations that I am currently met with if I had not become an addict.

I’ve heard many people that know me personally say things like “I want the old Kali back”… and you know what?! The old Kali is dead and gone. The addict Kali has disappeared as well. And I don’t want either one back. Because this new Kali, she is the best version of me that I can and ever will be. I plan to continue building upon this new version of me because we can never stop learning how to be better. When we stop growing… we stop breathing. So until the day I die, I will continue to develop this new person that I am.

This is truly a new chapter. Screw that. This is a completely new book. Let’s throw the last one in the burn barrel and never look back.

xoxo -Kali

Posted in Daily Diary

This New Chapter

I understand it has been months, and months, and months since I have written anything on here. My life took an unexpected turn and I wasn’t as focused on my writing as I had been previously. Well, actually looking back it has been extremely sporadic.

I think I have struggled with the vulnerability factor here. Like… what to share and what to hold back. I have a fear of what kind of repercussions could present themselves if I write honestly and vulnerably. However, I am learning that true vulnerability is strength. And sharing my story, even parts of it could truly help someone else. Even if it were just enabling them to identify with someone else having gone through similar things.

So, I have made a decision to be an open book about some things. Making the decision to change my career path kind of pushes me into this sort of work anyway, so why not just spill it all out?! And if not for someone else’s benefit getting all of this out will definitely benefit myself. Even if I just regurgitate the information so it ingrains itself in my mind.

I guess what this post is saying is that very shortly I will share what I have been through in this last year.. and it’s quite a juicy account. 😉

xoxo -Kali

Posted in Daily Diary

Something Better

A lot has happened since my last entry. Some things that I’m proud of, some things I’m not so proud of. It might take me some time to start divulging some of that information because only Lord knows who is actually reading this.

I walked myself into a careless situation which caused a severe loss of freedom. I don’t even know how to describe the things that I was forced into experiencing. I’ve never felt the way that I did the last month of my life. Yet, so many beautiful things were formed from this experience. It sounds so damn cheesy to say it, but I literally got a new lease on life. So much of this world is ugly and painful… but beautiful things come from the brokenness that we live through.

I’m going to just write some bologna that hints about what I’ve been dealing with. I think it’ll be easier that way.

Loneliness set in
the pain immense
trying to breathe
underwater

It’s all natural
living like this
for so long
drowning

Too much energy
to change
the circumstances
the routine

Continuing to circle
the drain
swirling water carrying me
rapidly

Can’t grab hold
on my own
too proud to ask
HELP

Nothing can be done
not without me
stubborn comfortable
false safety

What’s next?
death or near it
it’s all my choice and
habit

Takes a whirlwind
of situations to
force us out of
comfort

xoxo

Curly Kali Sue
11/25/2020

Posted in Daily Diary

This Thing We Call ”Life” is NOT for the Weak

After one of the most eventful and taxing sets of 24 hours I have had in quite a while, I am speechless. I don’t even know where to begin. It has been such a disastrous day… like, literally exactly 24 hours to the minute I was trashing an immense amount of personal evolution. Things were just starting to come together. Almost ”full circle” as some may say. But just picture a nearly complete circle and then the worst parts of yourself taking an eraser to every last millimeter you had accomplished to draw. Absolutely ridiculous. I am so completely PISSED at myself it cannot be expressed in mere words.

Anyhow… I’ll elaborate at a later time.

but……… DAMMMMMMIT!!!!

Posted in Daily Diary

From Bad to Worse

If you’re a regular reader of mine, you may have noticed the tone of my posts has changed from positive to negative in a short matter of time. Believe me… I am trying hard as hell to keep my thoughts optimistic but it has been harder than usual to maintain. It’s as if life likes playing games with me. Things will be so good… and then here comes a curveball… a curveball that made me strikeout.

However, I will always keep faith that it’ll change for the better again soon.

The Lord will never throw me anything that I can’t handle- right?

Posted in Daily Diary

La Biblioteca

Two days in a row I have managed to visit a place I have not explored in probably close to 7-8 years. Which is actually fairly strange because it’s an incredibly useful spot. Furthermore, I love to read and the amount of books there is unfathomable. That’s right- you guessed it… the library. Surprisingly, Toledo has quite a few of them all neatly spread throughout the city.

I was in the downtown area the other day and happened to pass the main branch of our local library and noticed they had reopened after closing their doors for renovations that took nearly 9 months to complete. But let me just say the updates are stunning. They preserved a lot of the original classic architecture and added a modern feel to some areas. Yet every area includes the most current technology which allows patrons to independently fulfill whatever needs they may have… but just around the corner you’ll find a staff member for any possible questions or issues you might run into.

Anyhow, on this spontaneous trip to the library I searched their electronic catalog for resources regarding creative writing or journalism references. To my surprise there are countless books explaining everything I am eager to learn about how to be a better writer and possibly start making a living with it. That right there, ladies and gentlemen, is what I want to do when I grow up.

After parusing various how-to books I finally discovered more specific writings on creating a memoir. Something I have long been anxious to do. Not necessarily because I have lived the most interesting life, but because I have a story to tell. Life lessons to share. Memories to relive in order to gain a greater understanding of them.

I borrowed 12 separate books on the subject and plan to spend the next month dissecting them so that I can make this long awaited dream a reality. Hopefully it will not only be a dream come true, but a therapeutic experience that’ll benefit my emotional maturity.

Stay tuned! 😉