A Note From The Writer

Welcome to the archived blog posts (when I was a wee blogger, wet behind the ears and not aware of spell check and various other gramatical structures!) I have kept the writings unedited or reworked as I am in the process of doing a massive rewrite of my entire life, many posts I have yet to publish and this blog was merely writing practise for the massive job of sorting out my emotions whilst retelling the story as cuttingly real and dramatic as the real memory was.. some of the posts contained are raw, streaming emotion.. many posts although painful to write, had a tremendously cathartic effect - cheaper than therapy one would say. I welcome new and old readers to keep in touch via my author email (sensualexplorersatHotmaildotcom) if you have any questions or wish to share the feelings and emotions raised by my work.
I will announce the publish date and title whenever it happens and I have been clean now for three years. It is possible.
But it is never easy. It's a lifelong journey, I will always be an addict, but I must stay one step ahead of myself and protect all that can be ruined in the eternal struggle to be
at ease once again, comfortable in this skin.
Thank you for being a part of my story.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Miss Brightside

"I'm coming out of my cage
And I've been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all"

The Updated To Do

  1. Thanks for everyone's suggestions on how to make this blog bigger than ever!
  2. www.heroinegirl.com should be up and running in two weeks !!!!
  3. I now have hosting space organised and 265 mbs of space however I have no idea how to move my blog from blogger to this space - what happens to everyone's links?
  4. The design package is basic package and I don't think I will have a tagboard but I do wasn't a photoalbum.
  5. I'm going to go with the latest version of wordpress (as long as that has categories)
  6. The domain (remember the saga) is waiting for me to claim and I still don't have a PO address. I'm going to check out the proxy server like Hot Karl said to do.
  7. I've added a paypal button to raise the funds for the videoblog and audio blog function and for me to get my own postbox so I can work on my book deal and register the name.

  8. I don't go out and I don't drink cos I can't. Writing and creating is my hobby and it stops me from going crazy. I figure I have all these loose ends to tie up and maybe I could be saving time by having a smarter blog that needs less maintenance but also gives me (and you) a better result. So please don't think I'm a diva - I'm actually very frugal because I have to be.
  9. I found the agent (thanks to a reader) and my media rep has spoken to him on the telephone. I have been asked to submit an overview of my life for them to shop around to various publishing houses. Big thanks to Genuine for helping me with this one.
  10. My birthday on the 5th of May - my goal is to have the book proposal done by this time.
Thanks for everyone's ideas !
Please let me know if you can donate an videoblog subscription as I don't have a credit card but I'm more than willing to transfer the money !!

More than willing !!

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Echoes from the past

Today started off better than expected which was a welcome surprise. I received great news from my liver specialist - the new half dose is doing well and my nutrophills are holding their own (this means no cancer drugs) Giddy-up!
Plus I have less Ribavirin tablets and as a result my red blood cells have risen slightly (which explains why I feel better this week - thank lord cos anemia is a bitch).

Basically, I can hope for smooth sailing from here to the end of therapy. The Doc reminded us today that people with genotype 1 have a 40% - 50% chance of sustaining a viral response. Bf was there to hold my hand as she advised both of us that even those odds, that mine may be even less. Those percentages were obtained from patients who had taken the full year of meds and unfortunately I've had half doses, having to stop/start a few times.

However, she did pause and add that I had displayed a negative result to Hep C test only 8 weeks into my therapy( and that my friends is promising !!)
Still - it really could go either way and I sensed a feeling that the Doc seemed to think 50% is not the best odds but also not the worst. To me it seems good - of two peeps have Hep C - one becomes reinfected with the virus but the one will clear it completely. I'm praying for the latter.
If I don't cure it - I will be a little pissed off that I spent so much time sick and yucky. I don't think I will be repeating the drugs until they have less side effects. I get angry when I see Pamela Anderson out having fun (she has Hep C) getting hammered and I can't. Apparently, Pammie refused to do my treatment as it was too punishing on the body. No shit !!
Actually, BF said he read in magazine that she has already had a liver transplant. So that must be the celebrity cure - if your livers on the way out - just go and buy yourself enough one !

Anyhow I'm not a celebrity so I'm taking it one day at a time and at the moment I have umm.. Five months before we even get to that stage. I know that being negative is not going to help that period go any quicker. In short, I left pretty happy that my viral drugs are not so full on anymore and had a nice big 'nanna nap' to reward myself.

When I got back online, I received an IM from BF (yes we talk to each other at least eight times a day) saying that my sister had called and that there was dramas. Straight away I thought "Well my sister is 18 and she probably has found something cooler to do for the holiday."
I braced myself for the disappointment that I was used to when it came to family.
I will share it with you now - even though I know Lil Sis will probably read this when she is here over the weekend (she adores this blog btw - she loves looking up to Big Sis) what the drama was.

I don't know if you are up to date with my story (my memoirs are to the right) - but you may recall that my younger sister (let's call her Miss C) is the Stepmother's daughter and we share a dad. We don't call each other half-sisters because that's not very Sopranos like and I think I'm Anthony Soprano ;)
Anyhoo, Miss C just finished high-school and works at a local supermarket during the week - we ( and I mean bf and myself) are working on starting her on a career path. It doesn't help when I don't have the support of the parents, Dad's drinking and abuse is not helping her settle into a routine either.

Unfortunately, I live a one hours drive away and I don't drive. Otherwise, I would play a bigger role in getting her a decent job that gives her a solid salary and some skills. Alas, she has worked at the grocery store since she was 14 which is not such a bad thing but I know she is a bright girl and I want the very best for her - she is not using all her skills. All of the kids work hard because we don't want to be like our parents, with old threadbare furniture and a rented house full of pets and stink. Dad is the brains in our family - but Miss C and him have the same relationship that I share with The Stepmother - that is we simply don't have one.

My father used to be a happy drunk (which can still be annoying) and as he has obliterated braincells I've noticed his drunken behaviour become progressively more spiteful and menacing. I hear some terrible things and I worry for My Dad - it's not the same man that I knew. He has become more bitter and angry, sometimes downright cruel. He has been known to call my sister a fucking bitch and a lazy fat pig (she is like size ten!) Growing up my Dad never spoke to me like that (which ain't helping her that I don't understand) and I wonder why he would with another daughter? Miss C has said that after this fight, she is never going back.
I remember the day I said that... I remember.

After she graduated, Miss C has had to enter the big bad world. Now, no-one knows the highs and lows like yours truly, so I don't pander to her but I don't let her roam lost either. Even though Mum says she is an adult - to me 18 is just a baby. The stepmother has cut her loose.
I've said it once and I'll say it again that I really think The Stepmother is seriously disturbed. I'm even more convinced that she has a few screws loose now that I see the old patterns rearing their ugly head. From what I've experienced, as we have grown into women she becomes threatened by us and our freedom to live our own lives. But I don't get it as she is very emotionally distant - not clingy or controlling at all. Just very cruel comments that make you you doubt yourself to the extreme, subtly taking you down a knotch just when you think you are ready to finally start flying. For as long as I have been her stepdaughter she has played games with our heads and has no qualms in playing favourites.

I've never been able to ask a question about school or career concerns. She is docile when it comes to achievement and the real world. It's all about the drama of life - feel sorry for me with my alcoholic husband. She is the pin up girl for low self-esteem (sex and the city line)

It would be a waste of time asking her advice regarding being a successful and happy person. As she herself has reverted to anti-depressants she has had the sense of mind to finally admit that she has NO IDEA how to be happy. Great. That's just f'n great. When it comes to getting ahead in life and dealing with the shit that brings, Dad can be* cool (*sober) . But when he is sober he is too ashamed to talk to us ...and locks himself in the bedroom.

Still, the stepmother sides with Dad when he is sober but when he is drunk she will turn on him and her favorite thing to do is involve the children. We all grew up as mini umpires for their screaming matches. Helpless, we watched our parents rip each other's souls to pieces.
No wonder I feel there is nothing left for us....

The Stepmother tries to manipulate us into conforming to her emotional patterns. I've warned my sister that her time is now. However, Miss C is feistier than I ever was (I was too busy trying to make her love me) She doesn't tolerate fools and has be known to speak the truth and this never sits well in our family, which is built on a foundation of secrets and denial.
Me, on the other hand, well my coping mechanism is to try and swing her around to my viewpoint. I fear she is just too old to change now - so I've cut her from my life. I see her at X,as and special occasions but that is all. I try my best to never be like her (esp if I'm a mum) Can you say the word - AVERSION ?

I've spent some time analyzing what background - looking for signs of a pattern. If anything I could help the kids manage her abuse and manage to move out relatively unscathed. Mum has always drilled into us that when she was seventeen she feel pregnant with Adrian (evil seed) and she was a single mum. As much as she implores we can never be like that - she has no brain or wish to make us thrive. It's like she is envious of our own lives - we earned them and they are nothing to fucking do with what happened to her.
I know this now but it took many years to believe it. Now I hate her so go figure if that's any better for me ! Sure, I'm pleasant on the outside when I need to be, but she could see in my eyes that I was all about hate and that I'd saved it all for her.

Dad is his own crazy carnival. The worse part about when Dad gets drunk is that all of a sudden he wants to start emotional conversations, forcing his own drunken opinions on you. Yet, he goes overboard with the whole "I'm your father and you will respect me and do what I say" although he never does anything to earn our respect. He can't even walk in a straight line. He hides himself in a god damn bottle - that's not a man. He knows this and kids aren't dumb.

Still when you're are a daddies little girl, you fight on almost refusing to be knocked down in the final round of love and trust. Stumbling around, stemming the blood that drips so steady. you try to figure it all out - if only so you can keep going on thinking he's just the best thing ever created by God. He's your daddy ... He is the man.


When I was little I tried to play his games as I thought for once he would be on my side. Even if he was drunk - I didn't care. I would open up about how much I hated things with The Stepmother and I'd see a flicker of my daddy that I once knew. He would hug me and sometimes he would cry too. But it was always different the next day...

The next day though when he was sober he would be the silent man on the couch again - I knew that he wouldn't be able to talk to me about my feelings (hell I don't think he even remembered our conversations) After that happened for years and The Stepmother accused me of trying to play on Dad's soft spots when he was drunk (mole) I learnt to just avoid Dad and save myself the politics.

All of us kids knew the drill; make sure your bedroom lights are out and when you hear your name being drunkenly slurred whatever you do - don't answer. Pretend to be asleep and pray that he will just fall asleep on the kitchen floor again. Then he is waking your little sister and brother and you hear The Stepmother struggling with him in the hallway. She is screaming and he is saying very mean things - about all of us. I still hear his screams, spit frothing from his mouth and his bloodshot eyes shining with anger.

"My own family disappoints me, I comes home after working my ass off to pay all your fucking bills and buy your fucking food and what do I get !! {punches wall) NO dinner is made and the house is a fucking mess!!"

We know better than to answer, so I hear only quiet sobs.
"Where is ***** ?" He slurs. Eager for the next victim.
"She's asleep - Don't " I hear grappling noises outside my door and my eyes widen with fear.
Even though I knew it would come to me - it always did - it still was scary.

He shouted my name down the hallway at 1 am - arrogance dripping from his words. A gush of air washes over my face as I try to look asleep. I can smell his booze and my heart is pounding. He says my name and I stay silent..just like I have been told to do.

It wasn't good enough. I hear him fumbling for the light switch and the room is flooding with light and screaming and then everyone is here around my bed and I'm in the middle..trying to make everyone calm down. Daddy drags me from bed to do the dishes and I'm not allowed to go back to bed until it's all done to his satisfaction. It's now three in the morning and I'm so old and tired within...regardless of the time.
The next morning he leaves for work and when he comes home he goes straight to bed as tonight is hangover night for Daddy. But give it another night and it will happen again and again.

Why do I love him if I know thathe won't change now. I guess he is all I have left.
He has done this for twenty-seven years of my life - do I know any better?

Obviously the alcohol makes him more confident to talk about his feelings, but there is no in between for him. I swear in the daytime, I hardly hear my dad speak one word to any of us. He goes to work every day as a plasterer, leaving and arriving home in the early mornings. Dad is a pub drinker - he likes to escape home and will sit in a pub for hours and hours.
After he drinks two times his body weight Mum will either drive down and collect him at a prearranged time or he will just drink drive (yes they live in built up surburbia and I hope he loses his license)
As you know I was so happy to get out of this environment, in addition to Dad and his drunken ways I had to shoulder the blame for having such a delinquent father. I could see he was hurting, but I know he needs help. He is still in denial - he doesn't have a problem apparently.

Miss C hates my Father for all the times she has had friends over and he has abused her in front of them. She once told me of a time she had friends over for a slumber party and dad burst in on them in the shower. he yanked my little brother who was in the bath with two girls (fuck - he was four) and spanked him hard saying that he was a dirty little bastard.
She told me with angry tears how her girlfriends (also in the bath) tried to cover themselves as Dad towered over them , rum breath and sweat the only smell. The seven year old girls screamed for The Stepmother and she came in and started to punch my father in the face.
"You drunken asshole - You fucking idiot" she pushed him into the wall and he stared at her drunk and lopsided slurring his speech.
"He's a dirty little boy - he's too old for that now" That's Dad. Denial works best for him.

The Stepmother quickly tried to appease the girls and my sister who was absolutely mortified.
This was such a shameful moment for her - and to add insult she had invited the most popular girls and now all they wanted to do was go home. She cried very hard after they all left.

After that debacle, Mum wasn't prepared to let it get any worse. The little girls were no longer in party mood and they all ate the birthday cake in terrified silence. The girls were aged 8 and under.

In the end, the girls asked The Stepmother to go home as they were afraid to go to sleep. The Stepmother made the phonecalls and their parents came and collected the children from the party. Needless to say, they were not allowed to ever visit our house again. That happened when I had left and when she tells me about those things - I can understand why she would harbor a lot of anger. The night before the party, she crept out in her nightgown and pleaded that Daddy wouldn't get drunk and embarrass her.
"Please Daddy just for one night" she begged
"Of course - I'm not a drunk ! Go to bed and stop being silly"
Yeah whatever. Even I want to punch him for that.

Dad's told me that it's just her age but she vows that it's a deep-seated hatred that has only expanded as she grows into an adult and notices her Father's lacking. After fisticuffs became commonplace with both parents - Mum asked my sister to "get out of the picture for a while" and "give Your father time to cool off".
She is a fucking dickhead - she will always pick her husband over her kids.
It didn't matter to her that my sister had just turned seventeen and was in her final (most important year) of high school. The Stepmother never finished high school - how could she know what she just doesn't know ? As a result my sister's grades suffered (she failed her final year). Needless to say relations with dad and her are icy at best.

We all agreed that for everyone's sake (mainly Miss C's) that she should move into her own place. She did and it was working for a while (I noticed she was a lot calmer and had stopped stressing so much) but the I think she was looking for a more secure environment. A group of her friends are trying to get a place (all very nice girls that I approve of) but no landlords will give them a chance because they are fresh out of school. I have a feeling that this will work out though.. We all have been through that stage and managed to survive ourselves.

After careful consideration she shacked up with her boyfriend (who lives with his parents) but the latest drama is that he cheated on her on the weekend and kissed another girl. (Yes he was drunk) I always subscribe to the everyone gets one chance (if he fucked her it may of been different) but I know that it's kinda of easy to pash off some chick when your sloshed.
I'm bad like that. He told sweet angel as soon as she got home and all shit broke lose.
Young love !

Now my sis is a very proud girl so she felt there was no other option that to cool things with her BF and go back home for a while. Cue drama. Poor little darlingheart rang us today in a flood of tears saying that my father had gotten drunk and abusive yet again. She wasn't even home for two days before he cruelly told my sister that "She was out of their lives now and he only cares about the youngest" then he added "I have never connected with you anyway".

The Stepmother has told her that Dad is Dad and if she doesn't like it she can move out - "It was so much better when you were not around" she added as a final blow to my sister.

I felt my chest tighten when BF told me all the details - the abuse , the manipulation - it all flooding back to me. I picked up the phone to call her and I paused halfway through the number and burst into tears. I knew what the voice would say on the other end - I had been that voice and that person. I have hardly dealt with my own abuse from these same people.

I would feel every one of those tears all over again. I knew exactly how she felt, I remembered the shocking hurt as I run from the family home , while they retreat back into the flames of fury. I steeled myself with the thought that although I never had a big sister, that she does and this time I can actually be there for her (instead of being stoned) However, I'm ashamed to admit to you all that I was shaking like a leaf. I didn't feel like dealing with this shit. Not again.
I'd moved away from a reason - to forget about my parents. Now, it was happening all over again - the same hurtful words. When I was little, The Stepmother coldly informed me that my younger sister was her favorite daughter and I always thought she was safe.
I always though well your really are her daughter - you will get it better than me.
She did for a while - but old habits die hard.

Ashamedly, a slight part of me is resistant to help my sister because NO-one was there to help me. It's a petty thing and I kick myself for even thinking it. I resent Mum not her.
I have to keep that in mind. She needs me. I have to also keep that in mind.

When my parents turned on me (for not getting over the incest) I made it on my own only because I had to. My younger sister and brother got everything after that - as my parents freaked and reassessed the parental direction (or lack thereof) that they were taking.
Basically, they let them do whatever they want. Ie: they both smoke and drink.
My brother is 15. He is failing school.

I can't not get involved as I realized that I got addicted to heroin and nearly died because I was on my own. Maybe I can stop this cycle - from the kids angle. Even though we are growing into adults, I'm not foolish enough to think that we no longer need our parents. To them, we will always be children.
That's what makes me scared - she is so good at manipulating me. When I confront her on Miss C she says " She is a teenage honey - she is a rude and ungrateful bitch and I'm too old for her shit. You don't know her as when she sees you she is an angel. I take her places and buy her things and she still treats me like dirt. Your my favorite daughter now - you know that ! You never gave me any trouble and now I see what a good girl you were."
This is vebatim what she says and I find myself silent on the other end of the phone, thinking if I open my mouth I will betray my sister (by agreeing) or opening myself up to her attacks (by disagreeing) I thought I was strong enough to deal with her but with the treatments mental side effects (lowers serotonin) I'm worried to get involved.
I want to ring them and go off my nut. The stepmother has already suspected that my sis will tell me everything that is happened and as she put it " You will tell her bad things about me and turn her against me - but I'm going to get to her first." I can't wait for that fucking phonecall. My sis was still reeling how Stepmother gave my little brother her room and made his room an office the day after she left home. Head games.
But I have to... I have to be there for my family.
Even if they may never be there for me.

She is coming up tomorrow and staying for three days and I going to really pamper her. Our girls are with us as well, so the family environment will be nice for her. It will be nice to watch the Easter Hunt and make baskets - childhood things can be comforting !!

I thought my abuse was hard to cope with. I was wrong. Watching it happen the exact same way to someone you love is a fresh pain.
God, if you're listening.
Help the Children.
Help my Parents.

Help me be strong for her.

I hope you all have a wonderful Easter and stay safe.
You can leave a message for HG Jnr (my sister) in the comments as she is really low at the moment and I find that you guys cheer me up when I'm as low.

I'll be blogging over the holidays...

p.s The trip to Sydney for the girl's Mother was cancelled. Apparently he was being a braggart as he was drunk and had no intention of flying Jane down! She still has her bag packed and waiting but has not heard from him at all re: her tickets.
Therefore she is driving up to see MR C (the one who has dumped her) and give him an Easter egg and see if he will talk to her. LOL! Jane is my living soap opera I swear!!

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Jane Says..

Oh man..You might remember I blogged about Jane a few weeks ago our love-hungry dating addict. Yeah sure you do - She's the compulsive dater and professional doormat. Remember how she drove at midnight to retrieve a key she got cut for her "man" as a present for Valentine's day (even though he said they were not official and he wasn't ready for anything serious as it was only two weeks into things !!) The one that has had 15 relationships in six months?

Well I'm going to let you in on a tiny secret - "Jane" is actually the the mother of bf's daughter (aged 7) I call her Miss 7. Now, I'm really going to try and rein in my opinions on the whole ex-wife thing as we all no matter how flat you make the pancake - it's always going to have two sides. Because if she ever found my blog she would have a freaking field day with all of my past. She has already clued on that I was a hooker, which surfaced when she was trying to validate keeping the girls from visiting (you all remember how sad I was about all that mess)
Whatever she can throw in my face (to counteract the fact that I'm fucking in love with her ex-husband) she does and she does it behind my back. Of course everyone (even you strangers) know about me already. I don't lead a double life however I didn't tell her as it's my past now, besides I knew she would totally go mental. She didn't disappoint. But we are on a good patch at the moment and the girls are back in our lives which is a blessing.

I have pleasant relations with her - she's the kind of girl that is ok with anything we do as long as she is involved with a partner of own. Unfortunately this is oft hoped for and seldom achieved. Le Sigh. In fact, the likelihood of this occurring is virtually near impossible (I'm not being mean ) Every single guy she has dated so far has quickly summized that they can use her for sex and a temporary girlfriend but they don't have to date her and there is less fuss if you do. She explains that the only way she keeps them interested (and then they may change their mind) is by lowing her own expectations about how she should be treated. Often, the men she meets (sometimes off the internet) become fuck buddies and nothing more. It's so predictable that it's hard not wince with smugness when it happens over and over. I mean common ! Men like to chase girls and being a Klingon is the express route to Dumpsville, Population - YOU.

I worry what the little girls are thinking - seeing her mother constantly texting her lovers (now up to 40 a day) and spending long amounts of time chatting on the computer. (Not that I can talk but I'm not a Mum and I know my years of freedom are now) Unlike motherhood, when it comes to making a guy happy she will keenly pull out all the stops (including using protection) to lure men into her bed. From there, she is convinced that she can swing a man into loving her , she just needs to get them alone.

The current guy (you know the one that rung me and hit on me which I still haven't told her) has explained to her many times that he is only interested in something casual. He wants to be fair to her and the girls and he just has too much going on right now. Sounds like a big fat case of "he's just not that Into you" . However he does add that he can still manage to have sex with her occasionally so if she doesn't like that then she can get something better. I guess she thinks it's better than being alone or something ? Man, I'm glad I've grown up a bit.

Of course, she thinks he is just the "Cat's Pjyamas" even though he only ever sees her when he is drunk ( another bad sign) he leaves in the morning and she has not met any family or friends
When she calls him on the phone to arrange to see him on the weekend he tells her "I'm in a middle of a dvd I'll call you back" but of course he doesn't.
Surely this isn't what you boys are doing to your girlfriends?

Quite forcefully, she met Mr C's neighbor who then she offered to sleep with and whilst drunk and bitter proceeded to blab all about Mr C to the neighbor (re: sexual performance and his attitude towards life) Of course, it's never anything to do with her why guys run for the hills.
She is the victim and has always maintained the lead role in her own nauseating drama.
I know I sound bitchy but I had to vent here as this is my blog!

I don't know about you other girls in a defacto relationship but I'm ashamed to ever go back to the dating game if this is what is out there. Honey - I want to stay with you forever cos the world has gone slut crazy@! I think a casual root is fine.. but at least know your worth..Otherwise you might as well fucking charge the bastards. Am I totally jaded from actually charging for it - maybe thats why I think it's extra slutty with a side serve of easy rings.

In order to mend her broken heart about Mr C breaking up with her (which the thoughtful lad did via text message bless him) she hoped online.. looking for a quick 'dix fix'. Of course a guy off msn offered to fill up her Saturday night (in more ways than one) when suddenly she had what I thought was an attack of morals. She was fretting that although she was not official with Mr C she didn't want him to find out she had fucked someone else - cos then it may be over for real.
Yes... She has all different slants on the "It's just not working out".

I counseled her for an hour on msn and we looked at all the options. After this, we decided it would be better that she took time for herself and dealt with Mr C first as even though he was resolved of his feelings for her - she had not.
We were both pleased with this decision, proud that she had stopped reacting to the neediness.
Unbeknownst to me I babysat the girls whilst she drove to the msn boy and fucked him without a condom and drove herself home ( no, she was not allowed to stay it was just for sex) so no one was any wiser. I don't know why I bother sometimes!

I wasn't surprised when she confessed she would need to collect a script for the morning after pill (he doesn't like to use condoms poor little tot) and then she had a brilliant idea. Bare with me, I can assure you this story only goes further downhill peoples !

I know all of this because she has no friends and it doesn't really hurt me and I try and sort out her emotions , not just for her sake but for the little ones. It's hard on them to be in such a crazy environment. She's one of those mothers that always speaks about sexual conquests in front of children and involves them in her dating.
Ie: she asks the girls to call Mr C and ask him why he is not coming down.

Anyway so back to getting the morning after pill which I suggested. I know she fell preggers with BF's daughter 4 weeks into it (she was engaged to the first girls father at the time and cheated on him with BF and then whoops fell pregnant) Yeah BF got more than he bargained for that night on the vinyl lounge (blech that she always tells me about) Dear me ! You gotta laugh or you would surely. Of course BF doesn't regret as he has the most angelic daughter - but it was still pretty fucking obvious. She has done it twice and things she says (You know I could just not have this pill and I would have the baby) make me do a double take and think maybe she did entrap my BF. Who knows, it's in the past anyhow.
Before I could stop her and pry the phone from her hands she has sms'd Mr C and said "Why don't you come down and we can fuck for one last time, and you can come inside me and i will have a pill"
He sms'd her back "Ok I'm in but only sex" I mean who would say no to a free root.

I shook my head and I warned that she had unprotected sex on Saturday and she should really take the pill on the 48 hours (not the seventy two to be sure)
Mr C didn't even turn up (how humiliating) and he hasn't even called her to explain why.
She has been sms'ing him all day and he is just not replying.
She just told me she forgot to have the second pill of her Morning after Pill.
Women like this give us all a bad name. I get so mad !!!
They think they can go against the laws of human nature and tag themselves a man.
Newsflash ! I think she is getting treated worse than I was as a hooker.
If she has another child - I swear ! I see already that she struggles to keep sane and we always help her out and make sure we are chilled with the kids and shower them with love.
Surely a baby would not keep this man - I don't get why women think like this ????

I just had to rant about it, cos her msn window is flashing and I would've started to get frustrated. I've read her passages of "He's Just Not That into You" and she doesn't listen she is sooo self absorbed and when she is not out to the left then she crashes into a depression and locks herself in a room and sms's us saying she is going to kill herself.

I wouldn't care if she didn't have my baby's baby.. Well I would care but you know what I mean. I just try and do my best and be a good stepmom and I know the girls both love me.
It's nice they can see their Dad have healthy relationships, that's why we don't fight or be nasty around the children (we don't much anyway) and we try and make those girls know that we love them and they don't need boys.

Miss eight has already said that she wants to kiss boys and her Mother found her diary (and read it -le sigh) And it said this ;

Jared and i broke up today , he said that i was nice but i know i am never good enough for him. i really thought we had a chance.

She was in Grade THREE! Why does she even have all these adult emotions. Goodness.
I mean at what point can I step in as a stepmom and say " You are always good enough and you don't need a man" when they see their Mum getting treated rough and basically used.
They have told me that Mummy can't find anyone to stay with her. Then Miss seven said to her Mum " Mummy, I know that he doesn't love you" - That's how obvious it is to everyone.

Wow what a blurt...
Saves me relating it all to BF.
I will probably delete it in 2 days so I'm safe.
Last time she banished the kids from us ( for five months) was when she found out I had Hep C.
She told the children that they couldn't hug me and that Daddy had chosen me and my sickness over them as he had to choose me or them. We only just got back into seeing them, so I just play things cool. She is a fucking lose cannon though and it's Easter and we have the girls and she is too busy worrying about all these internet schleps to even organize a special day for the girls.
Poor lil tigers - I know they are allergic to chocolate but it doesn't mean we have to ditch the whole freakin holiday! She just text-messaged me that her mother has set her up with one of her rich single guys (who has two kids) Man - is even her mum pimping her out? This dude has offered to fly her interstate and put her up in a hotel over the holiday weekend.

Me: So it's a dirty weekend - cos men don't pay 600 to say hi !
Her: No he said nothing like that will happen. He just wants to show me around town and have dinner. He wants me to stay until Monday so you and bf need the girls for the entire weekend.
Me: Well you better ring him and check it all out.

Excuse me ...But what part of this doesn't scream "I'm a prostitute"
She's not even getting paid - she is getting dinner (which will probably be awkward)
I imagined a funny skit in my head when she was gabbering on the phone and it went a little something like this..

Him: So Michelle..
Her: Actually it's Mandy -
Him: Whatever. After we finish this bottle of wine, I want to touch you all over with my crazy hairy fingers and get all creepy old daddy on yo ass. I said I would give you a tour - The tour of the my red meaty man sword. You didn't seriously think I would marry a girl that jumps on a plane and meets a sweaty old man and fucks him for some oysters kilpatrick??
Her : *winces*
Him: Oh Melissa.. You did.

Man I don't know why I care - maybe I'm jealous that I'm not being jetted around.
But I feel infuriated. She even gives hookers a bad name.
At least I know they pack condoms.

So now, I have to change Easter plans. I know for a fact that she often bullies me into plans and then when it's the weekend - no one has a clue what the hell is going on with the babies.

BF gets all confused and I get upset because he is upset and then the girls get upset.
You know those people that never confirm things but always seem to think you agreed to whatever they wanted. They live in the grey. Hell - with her you don't ever have to even say yes - if you spoke about it once drunk at a petrol station then she will dig it up if she needs to and makes it into a big official thing.
I hate people that do it and I think it's terrible when organizing the kids.

My sister is coming this weekend so it's going to be a full house as we have a small flat and we all seem to get all cooped up by the second day.
Hardly helping the mix is the adorable but challenging Miss eight who has ADD and cannot have any "pyscho" foods as when she was a baby she only ever ate canned food.

Then I think I'm going to visit my parents, which is always a pleasant bludgeon to the self-esteem and sanity.

Happy fucking Holidays.

It's been really, really painful not to blog about her - she is infuriating most of the time.


Due to public outcry (ok so maybe no one was actually crying perse but you know who you are)II won't be leaving Heroinegirl. I was talking to a few well known blogger types about my current identity crisis. You see, I want to help people with hepatitis C and I want to relate. When I type it here I feel like it must be dragging you guys down - nobody likes a sick person. Then I thought well to hell with it - this is who I am and I'm not Heroinegirl either. I'm off heroin and all that memoir stuff is over - it's nothing. I refer to Heroinegirl in the third person until my blogging mentor pulled me up on it. I realise that I have issues with coming to terms with all of me - past, present and future. Why ? Probably because I've always lived in hope that things would be better in the future, seeing that they sucked in the present. Now my life has changed and it's time I changed with it. I want to be one girl on one blog and this is why I started this fucking blog. I keep trying to run from myself - I keep wanting to section my feelings into compartments , if only so I can sneak in slices of me.
Like a big dose of me would kill you or something. Ok, so maybe I can be a bit over the top at times and sometimes I ramble and say things that seem inconsistent.
But that's life and if you don't like it then I guess nobody is making you read me or my shit.
I get sick times and sometimes I just want to chat on my blog much like a friend you don't have energy to see, but you still have a nice chat on the phone.
Sometimes, the blog is all I need to talk to - but it may not always be entertaining.
So sorry.

I'm going to accept that I have sickness and not hide away on some wierd blog that no one knows about like I'm ashamed of who I am. I am heroinegirl and she is me. I don't want to run from that anymore. Please support me and bear with me on this journey to solder all my personalities together. I'm learning how to be me and all the parts of me are jumping around all crazy and like "pay me attention I'm funny" and then "talk about me cos I'm so smart and clever" and then the rebel part of me is like "fuck the world sideways running" and then my inner child is like " The world is so beautiful but I'm lost in the tragedy" and all of these voices are competing to get out and I'm just trying to be fair.
I don't want to be a freak.
I don't want to have a chip on my shoulder, be a junkie wash-out, be depressed , be sickly and defeated or be a raving fucking hippie. I want all of this and none of it.
I want to find myself and stick with it.
I want to hear my name called and know the story behind it.
The full story that I will believe is good enough. Finally, maybe I will believe that I am good enough to stop defining who I am and just get on the playing field and do what I do.

I was running away from blogging because I get sick and tired and I don't want to burden everybody with my moaning and sadness. Silly, I know because you are all such sweet people and that's why I'm packing up and heading back home.

I told you I was crazy like a coconut.
Let's keep going on this journey together..

What do you say... we are out of the gutter and now should we head to the stars?
I may have days that I'm not on form or super witty or grammatically correct.
Sometimes I just want to be a sooky la la and I don't have energy to be inspirational because I feel like an ass and my life is stuck in a creative rut.

Sorry for the confusion. I'm sticking with my old blog Heroinegirl.
Literally speaking is my journalistic hobby - it breaks it up a little so you can still keep the links.
I have great plans for that.

Do I miss high school ?

Remember when you were in highschool and every day was a soap opera and sometimes u would almost convince yourself that you would never recover from this or that? But somehow u did.

When the only time your world made sense is when you could listen to your music in the dark as it blasted from the ghetto. All u could do was get angry at why things always have to change. You write it all down and draw those crazy pictures with the lightning bolts and lovehearts on the borders as you try and grapple with your own expanding and oozing brain. Maybe you smoked to be cool or maybe you were the easiest girl in school but we all knew that it didn't matter so much cos we all had lives to lead of our own. So what fucking changes ?

Everyone told you that these are the 'best years of your life' like they have figured out that living good can still give you cancer.

Even though it was intense when we kissed for the first time or wondered whether we would ever be cool enough to be liked by you and talked to by him/her , somehow most of us got over it and went out and tried to do it all on our own. Just don't point out that you gotta take your happy pills and dance around what you want for your life as you whimper that it just ain't what it used to be. Maybe you got yourself out of those railroad dental braces and straight into a huge fucking credit card debt. Maybe you burst from your tiny trainer bra and became the biggest slut ever. Maybe you grew up knowing that Mummy and daddy never had a clue and that daddy didn't wake so early just to let the sun out of it's cage. You realise he just woke up to have a coffee and moan about how hard it is to be straight - just like so many people you know.
You don't listen to the music anymore and you don't chew taffy like you used to but it still tastes the same to the little people in the world. You like the highschool version of life - where the sexiest teacher in school smelt as nice as her blouse looked. You trim your gardens and curse the trees that leave mess on your SUV - you don't climb those trees anymore and yet you wonder why the world looks different from the ground?

I never get tired of the memories. I just need to make get outside and live life, not sell out to the idea that that best years of my life... are fucking had.
I don't believe it anymore

Tuesday, March 22, 2005



The months that followed after leaving The Ex were full of pain and loss. Part of me still entertained the thought that maybe one day we could be together again - without the gear.
Gradually, in the reflections of my wired eyes I saw Michael grow pensive about my recovery - I was still coming home with pin-prick pupils. Every morning I would wake to dopesick but it never got tired - only I did. I would try and begin my new life with this man who promised to take me far away from the drugs and the pain - all I had to do was surrender my old life and leave Justin behind forever. Justin would call the home phone endless and I would crouch in the darkness as I heard him scream and moan that he was dying that the withdrawal were too much. He begged and he cried until his throat stripped from the pain could barely muster my name. Yet he called it endlessly and I would place down the receiver gently, his muted panic ended in a final refusual.
But I was no better. I was just living a lie.
Every morning I would play the homecoming queen for my straight boyfriend, suppressing him with blowjobs and sweet nothings even though inside I wanted to slit my arms open with a pen and fill them with powder. I couldn't tell Michael that Heroin was more important to me than him but I never failed to make him feel it. I started to live a treacherous double life.
I had Justin wait outside the unit until Michael left for work and then I would steal downstairs and have him shoot me up in the herb garden. Justin looked terrible and I knew better to ask him why - it was obvious that he was homeless and me knowing about this would still not change my mind to leave the horror behind me. Then, we would clamber aboard the bus and head back down to Miami, the seedy side to town. Michael never ventured down to the underbelly, so I was safe to continue working as a prostitute and I would continue to look after Justin as best as I could. I would hitchhike home and prepare dinner for Michael's arrival in the evening and then do my best to pretend that everything was dandy and that I was cleaning up my act. I kept my phone switched off during the night and delighted in this man's attention.
I let him be tough with me as I had bad habits from living life on the streets. He taught me a lot of things about cooking and cleaning that I had no idea about. Michael had spent time serving with the Navy so he took to the authoritarian role with a certain relish - I knew deep down that I could never love him though. He was in love with what he thought I should be.. Not with who I was and always will be. Perhaps cruelly, I stayed with him and tolerated the constant put-downs and emotional abuse as though I knew I deserved to be treated like a piece of rubbish. Inside though, I thought of it as boot camp - I knew my worth but I also knew that if you have poor hygiene and no life skills, you're not doing yourself any favors.
It comes down to the fact that I realized that living like a loose cannon wasn't working. I need discipline and I figured that I could seek that in someone else. Justin had let me do whatever I wanted , we could con ourselves into trouble or out of it , in five seconds flat. Michael, not so easy. However, as any Junkie will tell you - we soon find a way.

My way was traveling to the edge of town and living out an entire life with separate friends and residences - it seemed outrageous to many (not to mention expensive) that I could sustain two separate identities. Sometimes I would have close calls - I would forget to switch off my mobile phone or one of his work friends would spy me hustling my wares down the highway. Most of the time I tried to work inside the motel but when it got quiet and my body was aching for another taste, I would soon find myself out there, vying for my special place that people knew where I stood and what I was standing there for. Sadly, this was my corner of the world and I sold myself out to it...Every single day for seven months whilst I dated Michael.
I started to get sloppy about the details and slowly Michael started to cotton on that I was still looking pretty stoned and after some phonecalls he knew I wasn't spending the day at home.

He broke down in tears when he discovered empty condom wrappers left inside my bag and found the dreaded sharpz kit that I had dared to bring into his house. Michael screamed at me that I was only making him treat me as a joke. His trust was completely shattered that I would ever stop hooking (which was another addiction entirely) and it drove him crazy that my prostitute business was something he couldn't control. I broke my word every single time.

So he started to put me down and making me stupid and worthless. I suppose he was as desperate as me to gain some control as we hurtled off into that crazy place - where you just don't know if you can keep going on loving this person as life was surely made this hard.
But guess what ? Yes it was. Regardless, he made it quite clear that he could never love me until I was a "real person". " This meant drug-free and working an office job and wearing pretty dresses and keeping my legs firmly crossed.

A real person doesn't fuck guys for money and shoot up Heroin for breakfast he once said. I silently fumed as inside I knew I was much more substance than he could ever be. Often times I would tell him so and it would end in a fiery fight of wills. I wasn't ever going to buy the whole "Look how far I have got you and now you owe me all the thanks" routine. I knew exactly what needed to be done to get clean and I suppose in a way I used him to get me there.
Maybe if he was nicer I would've stayed with him.. maybe he was just a stepping stone.
He's finally ok with it now... he's found a nice Japanese girl and she does everything he wants and always remembers to pull the shower curtain across and indulges all his OCD tendancies that I openly ridiculed. One day I will tell you about what Michael's doing.. he has a special spot in my life but I don't think I ever loved the man. Doesn't mean that we don't admire them.

It infuriated Michael that not only that could I manage to be totally magnificent but he could also see past the pain and denial and love the girl that lied so much to him. I tried to stop for him, but we all know that never works. I would just get angry that he didn't understand. Quitting heroin wasn't as easy as just don't it - just say no. I don't think he ever got that but I'm glad that he never had to. Attempting to quit Heroin took all of my understanding of myself and turned itself on its head. I thought I only lied to everyone else, but I was wrong. Eventually I would stagger home stoned to the gills, bumping down the hallway..Reeking of rot and stale cigarette smoke and sex from people...That I did not know their nam
Fresh from the shower steam, I would slink into bed and wish that tomorrow would be different and maybe tomorrow I could stay in bed and ponder what lay ahead.

As the bedside clock ticked over midnight, I cuddle in close to Michael. I feel him instinctively tighten then relax as I break his heart one more time and he relents to our misshapen love.
As I feel his naked innocent curl into my tender belly, I am comforted by my own smugness that maybe I can really have it all. As much as I want him to love me - he just can't right now until I stop using and stop abusing. He looks like a tired angel in his sleep and I whisper to the God's as my witness.. "I love you" and I close my eyes and try to sleep.
I don't know how much longer the dragon will stay sleeping as that night we are both wide awake..

Alone and tortured by our own magnificent truths.

To be continued

Monday, March 21, 2005

Another Blog

Hello Lovelies,

Some kind readers have expressed concern/ interest regarding my current Interferon combination therapy to possibly cure my Hepatitis C virus. I contracted the blood born virus when I was shooting heroin with my long term partner. You can read all about all the Hepatitis treatment and my ongoing spiritual recovery on my new blog The Healer

Basically, Heroinegirl has to wind down for a little bit here because I'm very tired and I would like to concentrate on my memoirs for the book. However, I will be keeping a much simpler diary that I will write whatever I like (regarding my health and whatever the hell I want) Basically, I've been embarassed to document my sickness to you (even though I know y'all a bunch of sweeties) because I don't want to be a downer on your morning read. You don't always want to hear about my hair falling out in the hairdressers or how I cry myself to sleep sometimes because of the nightmares. That's why I don't post a lot in here sometimes - because it's happening to me - I'm sick and I'm afraid thats all I can manage somedays.
Somedays I'm not inspirational. Somedays - I'm just like you. I feel ugly and sad and miserable. I think my relationship is going nowhere and that my house could be 300% cleaner.
Heroinegirl will always be here because of the Memoirs and whatnot - but I'm ready to start writing for me and my future.

I'm ready to let Heroinegirl ...rise from the flames.
(and yes - I'm scared!)

new blog
(last one I promise)

Saturday, March 19, 2005

The Flu

Hello Lovelies,
I apologize for that lack of fresh posts, I have a bad cold at the moment.
I've been instructed to take it easy as my white blood cells are low due to my Inteferon treatment.
In addition, I do regret the delay in sending emails and general housekeeping, I anticpate I will be over this in a few days. My doctors are lowering my interferon dose since my anemia has worsened.

Hopefully, I will bounce back to health as opposed to my current state of perpetual exhaustion!! I'm crossing all my fingers and toes, praying that the treatment not only will be more tolerable but that the levels will sustain a negative result!
The Hep C virus is still non-present which is good news, let's just hope it stays at this level in spite of the reduction of interferon.
I've been given the option to quit it again, but I'm really trying to last the distance, so at very least I can work with Hep C patients in the future, knowing that I have been through the year long course of treatment. I want to understand it.
I would love to quit though :P I could go back to work and start growing back my thinning hair and plan my trip. I guess it's a matter of priorities.

This is why you shouldn't fuck with intravenous drugs! Sure, when your just experimenting you think it's really rock star when your banging up junk.
I know that you reassure that you're young so you have plenty of time to clean up your act. Maybe you never really do. Or maybe (like me) around your mid twenties (if you give a fuck about yourself) you go through your detox and instead of walking into nightclubs at 26 to drink and have fun for a hard life saved, your walking up a huge hill to the looming hospital. It's chrome and coldness like a mothership, a beacon to the walking wounded. Old people struggle up the hill, bent with age and covered in liver spots and there you are, three times a week, trying to cleanse your body of all that shit you did when you didn't know better. If only you could see yourself in that stark and cold hospital bed, when you were on the nod with a ciggarete dangling precariously from your blue-tinged lips. Was it even worth it ?

If you hit up drugs you have an 80% chance of contracting Hep C - which can lead to chronic liver failure. Your liver eats itself, producing deadly toxins which create an ammonia build up in your body. Your skin turns sallow yellow, the whites of your eyes get a green tinge and if you don't get a new liver then you will die. That's the worst case scenario, but it's a reality if you shoot up drugs. Just being honest with Y'all - not a lecture, just saving you time and life !

I say this because yesterday after blood tests and stuff, I was sitting at a bus stop outside the hospital. As I sat there sore and pale, I was forced to look ahead to the hospital thinking "who would've known". From the corner of my eye, I spied A young boy crossing the road, coming down from the emergency bay direction.

The boy, barefoot and slightly unkempt looking, stared at me intently with his penetrating brown eyes, as he sat down beside me on the aluminum bench.
I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, thinking 'oh great someone fresh from the nut hut' as I spied his hospital id. Incoherent and slighly malodourous, he was mumbling under his breath, words that were peppered with expletives.
I could still feel him staring at me (still) so I just turned to him and gave him a polite smile, lest he stab me for ignoring his crazy ass. As soon as I smiled, he spoke.
"They shouldn't have released me" he sounded exasperated," pausing for a gasp,"They just bundled me up and told me to go home and sleep it off - stupid morons." He kicked at the gum stained cement.

My internal dialogue was something like, I fucking hope they didn't release you too early, cos your crazy ass is sitting right next to me."
Instead, I smiled tightly. What the fuck do you say to that?
That morning, I'd spent time in the Oncology ward, the cancer ward were I witnessed many patients who required beds, sitting in chairs recieving their chemotherapy. Some as young as seven years old and many older people with all forms of cancer. The room was packed with people with cancer - I counted ninety-five on this morning. Not the best waiting room.

The boy gestured to my cotton swab on my arm.
"What you have done?" he asked.
I tutt-tutted and give him a disapproving look, "That's a bit personal" I said.
He stood up and lit a cigarette, I noticed for the first time he was quite uneasy on his feet. He saw me look at him with concern and mistook my attention as interest.
"You wanna smoke" he pulled out a crumpled packet and thrust it towards me.
"No thanks, I quit smoking" I paused " I'm currently getting treated for Hepatitis C but my treatment is worse than the disease. I also have drugs to manage the side effects" I said nonchalantly "What about you?" I thought it polite to ask.
He smiled sheepishly and I estimated his age as being no more than 19.
"I swallowed a whole bottle of valium last night" he said quietly.
I tut-tutted again (It must be all the Dr Phill I'm watching at home)
"Oh yeah? You do know that if you keep doing that to your body, your liver will be fucked - just like mine. I'm 26 and I come here three times a week - you have a choice not to be here" I implored gathering momentum " Furthermore, you were told to leave the hospital because there is people dying in the emergency room , people with limbs missing and injury - what your asking for is selfish . You took the tablets." I blushed at my candour.
I paused, surprised at my passionate outburst.
I could tell this boy was harmless, a lonely outcast. His eyes sparkled when he spoke , but a suppressed sparkle at most, shadowed by sadness.
I looked him square in the eye "How old are you?"
"19" he said.
"What the hell are you doing? You have your whole life to lead and your sitting here with no shoes after taking a bottle of valium - look where you are, you don't need to be here yet!" my tone was factual and just the right level of forceful.
"I took the pills cos I was bored, a guy gave em to me for a packet of smokes"
"What you doing messin with people that can't buy thier own god damn smokes - swapping them for HIS prescription drugs - Tell me - How's that working for you ?"
"It's not, I'm not gonna do it again" He said even quieter.
"Your bloody right you're not, I better not ever see you here again you hear me. Not until you are sixty and have bowel cancer or something worth taking up the doctor's time - You are a young, healthy young lad, life your live and leave this to the sick people" I kept looking him in the eyes the whole time.
"I used to be a heroin addict and yes I too had a bad life, maybe you did too - obviously something is not right if your guzzling pills, but you got to take responsibility for yourself. The white knight in your life HAS to be you - do you understand that or am I just wasting my time - cos I will read my book" I warned.
He eyes watered and he finally smiled a weak smile, showing the soldier within.
"Do you have a boyfriend, you are amazing " he breathed
I tut-tutted again "Yes I do" I said, matter of factly, careful not to embarrass the young man. "Your a very bright and responsive person, it takes a lot to listen to a stranger at a bus stop, it shows me you want to help yourself and you want to be happy"
I touched his hand and smiled my my warmest smile,
"I'm proud of you taking this step, now take the next one and the one after that"
I reclined back on the bench and told him some more about what I see in the hospital and I explained that if I had a choice to do it different - I would.
He had no idea that a whole bottle of pills could have shut down his liver and I think the idea terrified the lad. Still, he needed to know.
The bus came and we shared the same bus ( I was dubious of this and though O shit Hg now you have a stalker) but I spoke to him about my martial arts and I asked him if he did any exercise and he said he used to kickbox. I told him that what he did last night was disrespectful to his body, which should be worshipped as you only have one. He agreed and said he was going home to set up the punching bag this afternoon (after a sleep , lol) and would start to hone his body rather than pollute it.
"Do you live near me" he asked after the bus was nearly empty.
"Um...No...I live with my boyfriend on "insert wrong street here" " I pressed the button and collected my satchel.
"You dropped this" he said offering my bankcard, which had slipped from my bag.
It was just sitting there on the floor and perhaps if I never took the time to know this man, I would assume that he would steal it.
I looked into those warm brown eyes and said a silent prayer that he would smile with his whole face one day... One day soon.
"Thank you" I said and my face betrayed that I was relieved that he was an honest soul - "You're going to be just fine, hope to see you on a bus going to a better destination next time darling"
We hugged as the bus lurched to my stop.
"You will" he said with 100% conviction.

Believe in people, we are all the same, what effects you, effects me.
We all build each others stories, one thought at a time.


Wednesday, March 16, 2005

I'm a badass (for serious!)


Oh yeah ! Hot Karl questioned my intentions on why I added the La Mer Cream ( which contains crushed pearls and rice proteins) to my wishlist. So, I will explain. I added it on impulse after perusing Postmodern's Wishlist and I thought you just never know ..and I added it to mine.

Now I feel bad about it (I don't expect any gifts) I also put the toothbrush on there as my dentist said I should have one, I think I chose the cheapest one. The La Mer is a pure wish, I'm more than happy with my Loreal Cold Cream, but to keep Hot Karl happy I will take it down.
Carry on as usual.


Oh and I have been doing interviews on my other blog..please link it too

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

so we took some photos

some people asked me for some pics in the suit, here is me being a dick.
I refuse to put my yellow belt on so thats why its all droopy.
My camera is on the way out, but the lights made it cool.

It's BF Birfdee

Hello Lovelies

I hope everyone had a relaxing weekend - is it still snowing over there ?
I'm covered in bruises from my grading - I've counted fourteen on my legs and arms!

Today is my beautiful boyfriend's birthday and I'm taking him out to Japanese for some gourmet sashimi. Then presents and then I'm his personal slave for the night.
Happy Birthday to You BF, I know you are reading along so don't forget to ask me for your present that I have hidden in the house !

I've only just gotten into birthdays actually I never really had an enjoyable one myself (the stepmother always makes everything special kind of rancid and wierd) But now that I'm truly at peace they let me celebrate the special people in my life. If you want to send me a card or something for my birthday then you are most welcome to email me for my address.

Tonight we will just relax and enjoy each other, as beautiful and healthy spirits.
I've learnt that just being alive with all you have is simply the greatest gift to give to those that love you. Be proud and bloom forever, love is there .

Your Darling Heroinegirl

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Sweet Victory

Hello my lovelies !

Well y'all will be real proud to hear that I passed my taekwondo grading with flying colours. You're now looking at a might spunky green belt (I will try and photos for you all ok?) as I get presented with my green belt (I'm now a senior grade)
It was a great day and I really enjoyed it (it was not too long at all this time) Sadly, two of girls from my class going for black belt didn't pass, mostly due to not being able to break the boards (kicking techniques) after several attempts. I'm halfway to that stage and I'm really aiming to be a black belt by the end of the year but with travel plans imminent - BF will probably advance before me (yes, this pisses me off greatly but what can I do)

I'm sporting 14 bruises on my limbs but it's all good, they are like trophies really.
I made sure I drank 8 litres of water and I also had a big pasta dinner the night before and snacked on bananas (natural steroids) . It sure made a difference, only at one stage did I lose my breath enough to be concerned, but I had my water bottle close by. I remembered all my pattern and so did BF - we both passed which is a really good feeling. Thanks for your well-wishes and nutrition tips, they really helped us give our best on the day. I slept most of the day today and have been comparing bruises with BF. I have more but he seems to think that's because I get tagged more but I beg to differ as I am more of a madass and put myself in the action more.

It's really nice that BF and I share an active hobby outside the conventional "couple" activity, especially one that requires a sharp mental process in order to master the techniques and application of Martial Art. I have definitely incorporated elements of a warrior into my daily routine and in many ways I am just getting stronger, defeat is no longer a word in my vocab.
I just wanted to post that we had both made it and thank you for your well wishes.

You guys are super !
Love Heroinegirl

I just installed AIM and my id is heroinegirl01

Friday, March 11, 2005

Summary (of sorts)

You can see HeroineGirl's entire Wish List at:
Mamacita asked me for the link that works - and here it is.
I found out who sent me the books and I now have a new mate.
Totally awesome XXX

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[lovelies this is a post for Literally Speaking as we are studying how I write but I thought I would post it here, for my family and friends]
Some it you may already know ... if you are a regular reader.
You can go to Literally Speaking if you wish to read this on a white background.

My birthday is the 5th of May, 1978. I'm a taurus, 175cm and I weigh 52kgs. I have shoulder length brunette hair, blue eyes and fair complexion. I do have freckles on my face and arms, but not on my body. I am known to be animated, dynamic, child-like, stubborn, open-minded and intelligent. I speak Japanese and have traveled to Japan as an exchange student. I have one brother (half-brother) and a younger sister (also half) . I also have a stepbrother from my stepmother's first marriage. I live in Queensland, Australia.

My father and mother separated when I was four. It was decided by my dad that as I was a girl, that I would stay with my Mum. Around the time of seperation, Dad was involved in a car accident consequently losing sight permanently in his left eye. The compensation he was awarded (he was working when this occured) was substantial for the seventies, half a million dollars. My father gave most of this to my mother, on the proviso that I would have anything I needed growing up and my education provided for. Then, for work reasons, my Father moved to Queensland which was a three hour plane trip away.
I was told much later (although I always had inclinings) that my mother was addicted to heroin at the time. In hindsight, I think this is what led the break-down in their marriage. However, this hasn't been confirmed, my father doesn't like to talk about it. So we don't.

Initially, she was able to keep her promise to Father. In fact, she bought the cutest little puppy and a kitten and built a animal shed that had hay and everything. Even though I recieved an endless amounts of toys and books, the drugs took precedence over child-rearing. My mother, 26 at the time and struggling to make sense of having a child, was back into the drugs. Most days she would simply forget I was alive. I bundled myself off to school in the mornings and served her breakfast in bed and we ate dinner in bed as well. My favorite times were when we would bathe together though. That was nice and warm and special, I still remember how clean she always looked to me.

So I was happy, with gifts and love and the thrill of being with at least one parent, it was enough to make me bonded to her for life. Sadly though, it was too much for her. After repeatedly placing me in other people's care, my father made an executive decision that a more stable home for me was needed. Extremely dissapointed and angry, he ordered my mother to move closer to him in order to supervise her parenting skills. I hadn't been to school for three weeks and my teachers had contacted him. Although I taught myself at home, reading enid blyton books aloud to mum as fell asleep in her cornflakes. The final straw came when he found out that I had fetched her a syringe. We all cried that day, even Daddy.

After that I was told that I would be leaving our home. I was going to be catching a plane to meet Daddy's new family. I cried so much but Daddy was not going to change his mind. I had to do what I was told (young lady, lol) As you do, when your five and a half and thirteen quarters.

I wasn't allowed to bring any of my toys on the plane and Mummy took my pets to the shelter. All I had was a small photo-album and a head full of promises to remember her by.
My mother promised to send my toys on the very next flight. However, when I went to the train with The Stepmother six months later ,only a small metal clad box was pulled from the train. With tears rolling down my face, I picked my way through smelly and dusty toys, some old favorites but it was not the same. Many things were missing. I later found out that she had sold my toys for drugs. It stung and I'm not a material person and never was since that day. I salvaged a few dolls, wiping the soot from their smiling faces and I clung to them, wishing they were her.

Full of nervous excitement and hope, I got off the plane to meet my dad and his new life - which was going to be my new life. I still remember that plane trip was the longest trip of my life. I was allowed to sit up the front with the hostesses and I remember my birth mother had just bought me some funky little girl jeans and I felt very grown up. I had a sticker placed on my shirt, so my new stepmother would tell who I was.
The pretty, slender air hostess walked me down the tarmac, my little hand trembled in hers. I cracked jokes and made them laugh, even though my insides were jello.
I remember the hostess smiled gently down at me from the heights of glamazon, and I had a feeling that would be the last time I would be my own little person.

I could see my stepmother stiffen behind the glass, an older lady (her mother) hunched beside her with an expression that she would rather be anywhere but here. We didn't embrace and they busied themselves more with my bags than they did with me. In fact, the airport meeting is not something I choose to remember because it was simply not special enough to warrant a memory. What I remember feeling at the time was these strange people were not the people I loved - these were the people that stopped my family from being together.
I was only five and a half and my parents - just like yours are - they were my gods.

I do remember reuniting with Dad. I still have a stillshot of subconcious as he sat on the steps, his plaster spinkled shorts and beer in one hand. Beaming with happiness, I bounded out of the car and flung myself with all I had into his strong and shielding arms. At least this was something. That's what I remembered, The one thought that will always stay with me about my dad is loyalty. I always knew that my Daddy had my back.

That's the last time that I really hugged my dad with all I had. The stepmother was not an advocate of Daddy and I having any time alone. In fact, I immediately sensed our emotional bond made her feel upset. In private, she quite calmly informed me I would not be loved as much as her own children and that I should understand that it is hard for a woman to take on a child - she had said yes to keep dad , not to get me away from Mum. I tried to understand but came up short - I wasn't tough enough yet.
The new lifestyle was very different. I've always been an extremely well-mannered child, the kind that is always welcomed back when staying at a friends house and always makes the bed or folds the linens after sleeping in your spare room. However, I was very much on the outer of the family. I had a makeshift room that was near an old fridge, it didn't have any trimmings to make it feel like a girl's room or that it was mine. The Stepbrother and I didn't really talk, he was 12 when I came to join him and mum and my dad. I don't think he liked Dad and he definitely didn't like me. I was told it was I was a girl and that's how it was with step siblings. He was never introduced to me as anything but Adrian. It hurt me cos daddy treated him like a son, the son he never had.
I already knew from my own loving parents, that something was not quite right with Adrian. He just looked...nasty - even as a child.

I missed my Mum tremendously. Mother was a free spirit, I felt that no-one in the word understood me as much as that woman did. I missed her smile and her smell and I missed just having a mum ! I was delighted to hear her voice on the phone. I listened as she spoke hopefully about visiting me soon. Mum had entered a detox program and soon we would be reunited. Soon. Soon. That's all I heard but I believed her with all the determination that a young child has. Kids... How in god's name are they so strong ?

I was sitting in the loungeroom one day watching cartoons wth my Stepbrother. As usual, he had shaped the loungechairs into a cocoon shape, from which he draped a thick pink acrylic blanket to make a cubby-house.
He would order me to sit on the floor while he would watch cartoons from inside his cave. I didn't mind.

Suprisingly, one day he invited me into the cave. Naturally, I was pretty chuffed to be invited into the cave, cos what little kid doesn't want to go inside a gigantic cubby. I went inside and the sky went red and through the shadows I could see he was doing something. It was a still kind of heat under the blankets and I don't recall to much of it. I just know that that's when the incest started. It began with light petting, as it normally does and when the abuser sees that you can maintain the secret then they begin to try other acts, oral sex, fingering and then penetration.
It's all very carefully planned so your trust is slowly eroded , but you still believe that they are not doing "all that much" to hurt you.

I wanted to fit in to the family so much. The stepmother didn't like to kiss or touch me, I suspect that I represented Dad's past life. I don't think she has ever been a strong woman with a solid sense of self and I'm amazed that I figured this out at the age of six. Children are very clever, I knew that I threatened her connection to her potential husband and potential future. In fact, she is everything that my mother is not and vice versa. I understand Dad learnt his lesson from dating a free spirit and chose a matronly, cold and no-nonsense replacement. She was young, she explains to me now, but she is selfish.

Then..Mum came back into my life. Overjoyed ! The sun had appeared from the behind the clouds. I still remember her face, so beautiful as she giggled driving her snazzy red convertible. Smoking her fancy cigarettes and laughing that beautiful laugh... My laugh. Boy, she was the lemon drop. She looked great, really happy to be in a new state and off the junk, it just radiated from her. It didn't last for long but I kept hoping.
She met a guy that was into dope and soon things went back to the same old disappointments, same broken promises and the same push and pull routine. I was ok with it though - it was a welcome escape from home and I think this is when I began to romanticism the whole heroin notion.
I saw my mother as a rebel, she didn't like The Stepmother one bit. She felt bad for me, but promised every weekend she would whisk me away. It was important I stayed in school and Dad was the best to provide a routine. " You're a character " she said ruffling my mousy hair.
I remember thinking I don't know what a character is, but if she is saying it with that smile...Then that's all i want to be right now... I wanna be a character. And here I am still, such a character.

I tried to hint that he was touching me, but I was scared it would make her mad and then maybe my whole world would fade. Daddy would be angry with me and then if mummy got sick , I would go to a home. So, I stayed quiet about the abuse, it didn't spoil our weekends. Then, the weekends started to get spaces between them. I never knew of course , and I would spend eight hours , standing at the front window waiting to see my mother's rental car crunching down the driveway.
The Stepmother would gently try to pry me from the window, luring me with cakes and cartoons, but I remained steadfast - I wanted to believe she was worth it. That meant I was worth it.
But, she would never come and no phone call. I would cry myself to sleep, clutching little gifts that she had given me for the last time she has let me down. The stepmother said no more gifts.
It wasn't fair that I was treated differently and got things that her son didn't. I don't know where his dad was - I just think she was jealous. Sadly, I have lost everything my mother gave me and I don't have a photo of me and her. I have it here...In my heart - aching with loss till I die.

Dad took my mum to court for custody. She didn't show and when she put forward her defense it was nothing for dad to convince the judge that he could offer me more , I was never asked what i wanted. I wish I was ... That decision nearly ruined my life. I say nearly cos I still have life to lead.
So, now weekend visits were fortnightly, I think we did about three months of visits when I noticed Mummy becoming sadder at the end of our time together. It would often end tears, from both her and me.

Finally one Monday she dropped me back at school and turned to me in the passenger seat. I was tiny. a little mouse dwarfed my floppy school hat. She smiled ever so sadly, tears falling fresh in the morning sunlight. I did not understand why she cries - was I beautiful ?
"I have to leave you" She managed to choke out the words, only by looking in the distance.
I dropped my eyes and began to fidget, I was more worried about her than me...That's the kind kid I was. "Ok" I said in a high pitched voice, which trembled with fear.
"How long you goin for Mum" I patted her leg with all the wisdom of a sage and smiled a tiny smile.
Her body convulsed with sadness and the tears fell much faster now...
"Forever, you're not going to see me again..."
"Oh...ok" What more can a child say? I knew that she was serious, she was my blood and I knew this was the hardest day of her life.
Then..She kissed me and I was totally numb, not blinking and not wanting to say goodbye.
I couldn't believe this was happening... I was a good person.
But sometimes, life is just not fair.

"bye Bye baby" she said.
"Bye Mummy" I said.
I was so shocked that I forgot to say I love you. But I'd say she knew from the way, I stood like a soldier, daring not to blink as her car disappeared into the sunset. My eyes did not hover for an hour from that spot. In shock, I walked into the classroom and dissolved into a ocean of tears.

I haven't seen her since and she did send letters but The Stepmother tore these up as I used to fall asleep with them, soggy and crumpled letters from the tears that just kept coming.
She stopped the letters but she never stopped the tears.
She has never stopped the bond that we have and she never will.

Sometimes you don't have to see angels in your life, to know that they exist.
Please go and embrace a child, the best feeling you can give them to survive is love.

Ok, now don't you all forget to comment on what parts you liked and what emotions were raised.
be honest - I'm genuinely curious as to how my writing effects you as a reader as well as a writer.


My Pattern

I made sure that I went to training last night just to check how my stamina is going and I'm pretty concerned with how I'm going to last the two hours. Doing my pattern, I got very dizzy and pale. This was only the usual 60 minute lesson which isn't very cool. I spoke to one of the blacks regarding my anemia. Honestly, I was quite disenchanted by the end of the lesson and I did feel like maybe tackling the chemo and the taekwondo is just too ambitious. That said, I don't want to give up on my TKD, it's the first sport that I actually like and I don't want to quit it (like everyone expects me to do because I'm the token unco skinny girl) Luckily, he was very understanding, he advised me that it was ok to ask for a brief respite on the day. I just need to raise my hand and cite medical reason so I can have a drink of cool water and a rest mid way through.

This is a cheat sheet that BF and I found on the internet for our pattern, so now you can see exactly what steps I am doing. The pattern is one facet of the grading, we also have to do sparring, warm-ups and kicks and punches. I always stay and watch my peers get awarded the higher belts as I learn a lot from watching the seniors. I love sparring but I need to remember to breathe which is hard because you are also meant to shout which takes even more breathing. I' a mouth breather too (I don't use my nose at all for breathing) for this reason I'm slightly challenged when it comes to athletic activity, swimming or even singing. The stepmother took me to the doctors after many attempts to hold my mouth shut would end up with me hysterical my nose would bleed from the panic. I don't know if she was actually concerned at my breathing patterns or if it was another thing she could slap me for when I least expected it.
True, sometimes I can be sitting there and my mouth is open like a simpleton but I never was the kind of spirit to respond to screaming hostility and violence, so here I am today with major developmental flaws. I'm slowly learning how to cook and do the simple things in live like washing. BF is teaching me how to fish rather than fuss over me and make it too easy.

There is so much I don't know about being a girl and I admit that I have brought myself up rather feral and it's one of the hardest things to change. It's not that I am a dirty girl, it's just that I have no clue about general women's business and I often feel frustrated and resentful.
For instance, I hardly ever wear a bra. Luckily, I'm not top-heavy but BF is still a bit shocked when he sees me try to leave the house with the headlights switched to on. When I do wear a bra, it's the wrong size and all twisted up. I don't know how to clean the house and when I wash dishes they still seem to have food on them. I wish I had a mum when I was little, just to give me some of those finishing touches that fine-tune us for life as a lady. It's been a very humbling journey to re-learn how to use sanitary products (I couldn't afford them on the streets) and to learn how to wash my hair and keep it free from tangles. I still have a long way to go, but I will do my best. It just gets me down sometimes ...I don't know why I resist being a prissy girl.
Maybe because it reminds me of the huge gap in my life, when my mother drove away that day.

Maybe baby.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

I'm special *blush*

Guess what ! (No, I'm not really a fat balding trucker from Dakota)

Someone (I think Mamacita) sent me a parcel from Amazon and it's not even my birthday yet.
I was literally like whooping for joy and I think I scared the delivery boy cos I had on my these really loose elastic underwear because I was home alone - but I did have a top on !
I recieved two (yay) of my requested books - including He's Just Not That Into You"
which is sooo awesome - and Five People You Meet In Heaven - sooooo awesome.
It really made me feel super special and almost tearing - such a nice gesture and I appreciate it sooo much.

For those readers so inclined to be so generous as to actually furnish me with gifts; My birthday is the 5th of May and I do have a wishlist of things that I covet ! I'm trying to get all the books on the list - especially the Oprah's Book Club ones. Postmodern Courtesan is also considering starting a bookclub with me for Bloggers but first I need to be a tad more well-read and familar with the great works. I also love recieving e-cards, especially musical ones ;)

Mamacita - are you the sender of my package ?
I cannot see a return address on the package to send a thank-you note so please provide this in an email if you are indeed the generous and thoughtful sender.
Thank you again


P.s I have grading for green belt in two days - I'm so tired and sickly ! Help !! Does anyone have some ideas on how to conserve energy and boost stamina between now and then.
I'm freaking out at the idea of two hours of cardio when I can barely jog to the letterbox.
What foods are good ? I been eating bananas ? I also made a big steak with blood in it which was rather gross but I'm anemic so I don't even know if this helps. .. lol.
I'm a train wreck sometimes aren't I ?
Oh well you gotta love me


For those beautiful readers that have been wondering how my new life is going - it is really steaming ahead. I think I'm finally ready to absolve my past and put it bed. I've outgrown Heroinegirl almost and I'm learning to be ok with that. It's time for me to get the publishing done and of course begin the process of collating all the memoirs and filling in the blanks.
What a masterpiece it will be.

So if your wondering what makes this blog different to my other one, I will say this is my personal blog, where you can find whats going on in my personal life and my continuing journey to reclaim my life and remove the toxic build-up of days pasts. The other blog is an evolving site where I can muse about writing and self-publishing and has content about not just me, but those that have inspired me to be a better writer.

So this is more like a journal now, the Memoirs are getting pimped up and glossed up and I'm sure you will adore the little gems as much as I do and if I get a super book deal , I will give out some free signed copies - rest assured !

I have committed to completing my treatment which ends August 08, 2005.
I am tempted to go out and get absolutely poached with those fancy drinks that you only by when you are really really drunk and ambitious (you know the 15 dollar variety with umbrellas)
but I know that is not doing my liver any favours. I really hope that the Hep C has gone - it's a 50% chance. You got ask yourself one question - Do I feel lucky. The answer is yes.

The even better news is that I have overcome my depression (being pale and sick and getting numerous injections takes it toll on your mental state) and I know this by how I'm finally appreciating that there is an end in sight. That's how I know I'm controlling my mood fluctuations, as they seem almost simplistic and factual now - it ends when I say it does and it's that simple.

The best part about this clarity (Honestly this health crisis has been the most challenging but also one of the most valuable sabatticals of my life) is I'm travelling overseas in October.
Basically, a group of five of us are travelling to Zimbabwe and my girlfriend from the UK is flying over as well. Now, the airfare is $3000 australian to Zim alone , so I've decided to travel direct to the UK in October (work for the two months to raise the airfare) then fly to Zim with my girlfriend to meet the others. In Zim we are staying in lodges and also renting a houseboat for the Christmas period and New Years. Because we are travelling with six people (all my closest buddies) we anticipate the most expensive part about going to Zim will be the airfare. After seeing all the animals and doing the nature thing, my girlfriend and I are going to be doing humanitarian work in South Africa or maybe in Zim itself. I will definately be assessing the political climate and if at any stage I feel that I'm in danger then it will be a case of "let's go".
I hope I don't get into a one on one with any form of wilderness (seriously) I'm very excitable.

The plight of the South African people to me is immensely moving to me. A deeper part of me beckons (almost aches) to give back to the world, especially those that have enormous grief and suffering, for no fault of their own. I belief my own experience in overcoming adversity and maintaining postitivy in the face of utter bleakness, is indeed a god given gift that is best shared with the world, as best as I can. So I have made the choice to learn from these amazing people and to share in the beauty and extremities of life. In short, I am expecting a life-changing experience.

But then we leave the camp and we may quickly go to the islands (we may do this first, still ironing out details and relaxing on the pristine beaches to unwind and reward ourselves with plenty of sunshine and swaying palm trees. I have never seen aquamarine water - do you believe?

Then both my girlfriend and I will board a plane back to The Uk where I will stay with her for a further two months and perhaps travel to Paris, Ireland and other destinations doing a backpacking journey around Europe and such. Now, I know that this blog is a great source of international wisdom and I want you to really go through my plans and find any flaws.
I have never done this before (Japan was a school trip) and truth be known I'm totally thrilled but peeing my pants at the same time.

I hope I can find work in UK - but it would only be for a very short time - maybe two months.
I have never worked in a bar and I can't do the tom cruise cocktail routine at all.
Plus how do I go about finding a reputable volunteer agency that doesn't charge me $2000 to volunteer - although I could consider doing fundraising for the program ?

Has anyone been to these places .. help!

These are my dreams

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Twisted Neon Straws

Books tell you how to suss out if a guy is giving you the "red flag" to ending a relationship and then said book outlines a range of tactics to swing the suitor back into the harbor of everlasting love. But what about girlfriends? Have you ever maintained a friendship that you felt had expired, hanging onto anything for the sake of holding on to something? I think it's time we discussed it on a friendship level.
When is it truely fair and not inflammatory to realise when a friend...is..
Is just not that into you?
(I know the cheek of it all !)

Let's say you have great hygiene and your awesome. In fact, what if you honestly have no idea why it just never gels between you and this one person. You try probably not enough as no-one likes being the fat kid at school that gave away lunch money for friendships. But then apathy creeps in and I feel the whole arguement is lost. Whats worse is these non-into you people can linger in your life for years, making some situations downright awkward. Did somebody say "Too Hard Basket" ? Do you get older (like I am doing) and resign your friendships to the following credo
"Oh well we all have separate lives now. " Or do we heal from the rejection and say " You know you is a mean old cow and you should like me cause I'm awesome and have I mentioned you fucking suck !
p.s fuck you, never liked you anyway.
To me one requires guts - however the jury is out on the maturity of this response ;)
But you get the gist. A spade is a spade.

I know by now you are thinking - sheesh HG sounds angry about something and cut. Ok you are right ( as always )
Now, I promised that I wouldn't directly talk about people that are in my life but don't read the blog. But I have to as it's on my mind. I didn't get invited to the first wedding of my school friend. It's my first wedding and yes I'm hearing a lot of "me" what this means to "me" coming up in this post...but this is what a blog is about.

No effort has been made to include me or broach it - it's the festering of the social ignorance that makes me kinda think this person is not very nice at all. When someone mentions the wedding around me, that stupid highschool thing of looking sideways and muttering and kicking feet occurs. I'm like oh lord - I'm the cool one. Don't you go there honey.
Since when was getting married a ticket to a bitchville.
Does it hurt? Maybe. Does it piss me off. Absofuckinglutely.
It's so desperate housewifes - without all the sexy gardners and nice homes.

In a way, I wish I could get over the anger so I could deal with the hurt of missing her day.
We have grown up together at school , she was the quiet one of the group and I "may" of resented her joining our high school group of girl friends. Not in a "Mean Girl's" attack but more in a brooding "You should know that you are never really going to gel with me so why don't we just take distant corners now" Good lord - I was sixteen and thought I knew it all.

Then I did drugs and the gap just went whooooooooooooooooop (wide open) Like way!
I had many bridges to mend and thought why not add this tarnished and broken friendship to the repair list. I believe that even though we went to school together , that as women you need to have more than that. You need to participate in a friendship in days where your lucky to check your gmail and catch a movie with a sweetheart before you are off the the cubicle again.
Therefore, I was willing to prove I could make such investments and also take the initiative.
Maybe she was shy. No, cos she is just like it with me. So I have the following conversation with my brain (who is the best shrink I know)

HG... let's say it together..Repeat after me.
She's just not that into you

No wait. It was the drugs..she was a square bear and I think it seriously freaked her out. I was a lot to handle back then ..Although I have been clean for three years now... ??

Um....How can I put this
"She's just not that into you"

I've emailed this girl and sent her best wishes for her wedding. I've asked her if we could broach the subject and an awkward HG driven monologue ensued. It was weird, like I was apologizing for not being normal enough and the only way to find middle ground as new friends, was to lower my past image. But it shouldn't be about that with a friend. There is no penance with friends. I made a lot of mistakes but I believe it enhances the level of compassion and understanding I can display with others. They only wish they could be so loving.
Trust me... I'm a special one when it comes to love. It's my life source.

Maybe she didn't get the thirteen emails (ok I sent one but it even had wedding quotes in it and thoughts) or maybe she is going to call me. Yeah. Maybe no one told her that I had asked for the dates.. Could it be? I mean...Could it finally be time to accept ...

[chorus] "She's just not that into you"
The wedding that I'm not invited too and I think it's because I don't gel with her.
Well..Don't you agree that some girls are just not the gel type. You have to do everything right by her (never take the boyfriends side) never tell her to stop being a soak and basically have alternating moments of "your the best mediocre friend I've had" to "wow that was really wierd, I felt like I didn't even know her just then" Now, if that's what people investing time are getting, I'm hardly going to jump in (boots and smiles) and join the queue of people that are barely having a friendship that thrives much less one that will handle a crisis (like my illness for example)

I mean please - I'm fucking fabulous ok?

I detest a victim mentality, sometimes the pain of being trapped inside yourself is worse than being thrust into the cold stark reality that you have to just accept it. Not everyone cares about you. I know to an abused child or someone who has been through a life that has been traumatic, this is almost hysteria inducing the first few times it is demonstrated to you. Even if I'm clean, even if I'm working, even if I still ring my parents and visit them on the weekend - they probably still won't care about me.

As life and hormones and boys enter our lives and we become women, some of our friendships fall to the wayside. As women, we weed out the girls who steal our clothes, steal our boyfriends, bitch behind our backs, put you down passive aggressive way, the girls who only talk about themselves, girls that aren't very bright and even worse have no sense of humor. I weeded all those phillies out by 25. However, The lines blur when you also happened to treat most of your friends like crap because you wanted to shoot junk as opposed to catching the latest J-Lo movie. Simply put, I scared them. I was the quintessential too hard basket. The Bride has never really changed her outlook enough to appreciate the changes I underwent to be a better friend.
I'd appreciate the issue being addressed seeing she has always pretended to be my friend.
That's the thing.. she is not talking about this wedding and it's like confetti cancer.
Now everyone fucking feels wierd and so do I , when I speak my best friend who is a bridesmaid. (I don't give a frig about this - I suspect it was a very big honour considering I'm not good enough to even confront about the issue)

But, It takes a strong dose of reality and courage to realize that although you initially thought you were losing them, the harsh truth is that they didn't care for you anyway. I had to really love who I was becoming to accept that they could dislike the person I was whilst still remaining calm. Not frenzied for forgiveness or worse - punishment. Luckily, my girlfriends have put the past behind all of us, including themselves. Except for you know who.
This kind of unexplained "leaving you out of a happy vibe" has sadly happened to me growing up as a child. I felt left out of the sincere moments of love, all I had was special occasions to feel entitled to a little bit of inclusion and when the day was over - I was back on my own.
Eventually those special days - birthdays and xmas and family holidays, became fake days.. Just like the rest. Maybe she is doing me a favor and saving me more fake days or the risk of truly being hurt.

She's just not that into you
or maybe she just a
crazy ass bitch.

The awesome thing about being me is that with that one line, I definitely will NOT get an invite any time soon to the wedding or anything else in her life. By printing it here and publishing..
It shows me, that I get it. I finally fucking get what I'm about and who I am.

Guess what sunshine

Maybe I'm just not into you anymore..
I'm all grown up too.
But I'm still fucking fabulous.

Hope you live happy ever after.

But this is the end of the road for us.

[end purge]