It hasn't been a week and I relapsed. Last Thursday night I cut and called the on call clinician. It was my case manager. He called the cops on me to escort me to the hospital were he and I talked. More like I got a lecture when was I going to quit. He wanted to exparte me but the hospital was full and he really didn't want to do the paper work to send me to API. I was just a pain in his ass. He sent me home with a promise I wouldn't cut and that I would call in the morning. I did what I was told but the urges were still strong. Friday night my friend was concerned about me and wanted to make sure I stayed out of the hospital. She is my codependent friend. She had me stay the night with her and then all day Saturday until the slam. The Voices of Recovery Poetry Slam went really well and I had a grand time. I tied for third place.Winnining $50.00 . With money in my pocket my urges got stronger. All I could think about was when I could by blades. I am sick in the head. Today is Tuesday and I am still planning. Rationally I know it is not a good idea. I have to schedule my day around so I don't go to stores by myself. I have to give my money to my case manager because I am not safe. It sounds silly. But if I have any money on me I am going to my blades and cut. I am like an out of control alcoholic. I really want to stop this shit. I wrote about it in the following poem that I read at the slam.
Five Years Clean and Sober
I am really not emotionally clean
I have a new addiction to love
I am an emotional wreck,
a suicidal dreamer,
an emergency room junky,
and I have a secret to tell.
I am scared to tell,
because I do it and I am clean.
I feel like a junky
It is real dreamy
I am in love.
My life's wrecked
like a shipwreck.
My scars tell
about this dream.
I am really not spiritually clean.
I am addicted to this love
like a lost junky.
I am a straight edge blade junky.
My body a scarred wreck.
I caress the blade like a lover.
There I told.
I want to be clean
and not be a dreamer.
I don't want to dream,
my life away like a junky.
It is going to take a lot of cleaning
to fix this wreckage.
It will be my past to tell
and only a dream.
I will no longer live this dream.
I will have self love.
This I can tell.
I can give up being a straight edge blade junky
because, my higher power is on my side of this wreckage.
Today, I can be cleansed.
I want a new love and to create a new dream.
I don't want to live a life of a junky and be a wreck.
I am telling you I want to live clean.
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I am the blade from which you seak comfort. I have love for no one. I am no more than cold cheap steel,packed in cardboard with little to no effort. I came from the ground,forged,and molded. I have no responsibility. I take no blame,no prisoners,no hostages. I am mostly inert,as I sit on the shelf. Whoever buys my kind,they use me and then throw me out. I have no family,no friends,no lover at all. No possessions,I neither give or take. I just am a tool.
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