Back to Life and Writing

I don't know what brought my urge to write again, maybe it's the fact that I feel a change in my life. Maybe it's because today, someone who has been reading my blogs for a long time wrote me.  Maybe it's because I need the creativity flow back in my body.  But tonight, I'm going to talk about something that's been apart of my life for a long time. 

I thought about it when I was younger. I was about twelve or thirteen years old when it first became more than a thought. I remember sitting in my green circle chair in my sponge bob decorated room. I'm not sure if it was because my dad left or if it was because I felt like nobody connected with me as a person. I was young, but all a child wants is to have a great relationship with their parents... And when my best friend and role model left, so did my urge to exist. 

Here in the past three years, it's been more of a thought. It's like a darkness that has crept into my bloodstream. Once the thought becomes an overwhelming desire, there's not much else you can think about. It's a sickness as most people say. But I'm not sick. I wasn't ever sick. The day I made that decision, maybe I was sick. But never did I consider myself to have some sort of sickness. 

People undermine it you know. People think it's all fun and games or someone is just out seeking for attention. Maybe some.  But I never wanted anyone to know. Because if they knew, they would try to stop me.  As I see it, if you really have that "sickness", the last thing you want is someone to know.  Those times that the thoughts and urges come across you when you're laying down for rest, or when you're driving down the road and watch the gravel on the highway pass you by, or the times you go out in public and watch people live their lives wondering if they ever feel that darkness within their bones..those are the times I never wanted anyone to know.  No matter if I wanted to reach out, those who have felt those urges tend to think they have all the answers for a battle you feel like you can't fight. And those who haven't, end up judging or down playing your inner battles. 

So if I never wanted anyone to know, why do I now? Well, I don't think about it everyday.  The past year of my life it crept up the worst it ever has. The thoughts went to preparation. The thoughts went to plans and backup plans on how I could go about it.  I never wanted someone to come across my dead body lying in a bloody pool on the floor. I never wanted a loved one to walk in and see me hanging lifeless from the ceiling of a place I called home.  I always saw myself walking out into the woods of a random town and using a 357 magnum to the head.  That's what the darkness kept showing me.  Then the gun was taken away from the house, as my darkness started to creep out into the light.  I then was going to get a ladder, rope, and go out into the woods with obvious intentions of hanging myself. I wanted to go missing.  That was the plan.  Then for some reason, the darkness didn't want to disappear. It wanted to make me suffer. Not cut the cord to the pain, just amplify the dosage. 

That's when I became what you stereotypical  folks like to call Emo. When the urge came to see my own blood and feel some dreadful pain, I had nothing to use. So I took apart a razor blade and started dragging it across my upper arm. Never did I want to die. Never did I want anyone to find out.  This is why I never cut my wrists. This is why it was in an easily hidden spot.  When I felt the relief... Which wasn't necessarily a relief in good feeling, but a relief that I finally was getting what I deserved... I couldn't stop. Every day I had to do it, or the next day it was worse. Eventually, I talked to someone. It took that. Someone found out and helped me. 

Have I stopped forever? Is the darkness gone? Am I no longer sick? No.  So what is the point of this post? 

Well, in the past five months, what used to happen every day, has happened only twice. My thoughts have not gone away, but I fight it. I fight it because no matter what I've done, I can make up for it in other ways than what I was.  My point is, in all my time of not wanting someone to know, I'm glad that they found out. Who knows where I'd be. How much worse it could have gotten. From the person who got rid of the gun, or the person who talked to me about becoming a better person and making a future that's about making up for the past.. They stopped something that could have been a lot worse. 

The suicide jokes, the name calling of self harmers, the under estimating how "sick" someone really is... Reach out. Whether you care about this person personally, someone does, and it's not a joke, it's not a game, and whatever we as a human race and society can do to prevent someone taking their life, we should. We should extend our arms for and with what's in our reach. Because if that gun was never taken away or that talk was never had with me... I truthfully don't know if I would have ever seen the light again. 

Yours truly, 

Amanda Rae

One fatal second...

Before you begin to read what I have to say, answer these few questions.
1. Have you ever drank alcohol?
2. Have you ever rode in a vehicle after the driver has been drinking or taken drugs?
3. Have you ever operated a vehicle after drinking or taking drugs?
4. Do you know anyone who has been killed by a drunk driver, or someone who has killed someone by drinking and driving?
If you have answered yes to any of these questions...remember...one second can end up being the last second you or another will have.

         October 2nd, 2010 I decided to get into a vehicle after consuming over fifteen beers and several shots of tequila. I was new in town, so I decided to show up the boys who THOUGHT they knew how to drink.  I was a female, and most females feel as if they need to prove they can drink a man under the table.  Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?  Females have a higher water content in their body, so it is a proven fact that females get intoxicated faster and stay intoxicated longer than males.  Point is, male or female, trying to out drink someone is really ignorant.  The more you drink, the less your mind is able to make decisions that you'll stand by in the morning.

         After I got in the vehicle, my memory started to fade.  I don't remember driving, I don't remember dropping a friend off, I don't remember the road I was even on.  I think back and all I can see is the blue lights in my rear view mirror.  There was no denying I was drunk.  I was instantly asked to step outside of the vehicle.  I did the sobriety tests and failed them drastically...blowing a .16 on my blood alcohol test.  The cop asked me to turn around and handcuffed me.  I was then put into the back of the cop car and taken to jail.  I was arrested for a Driving Under the Influence, Driving Under Suspension, Open Container, and Minor Possession of Alcohol.  My jail experience is beyond all doubt, the scariest thing I have ever been through.  I was put in shackles, handcuffs, and put into a holding cell with a couple girls and several cat-calling males.  I remember sitting there in that dull, cement room.  Looking around I saw people who looked like they belonged there, people who had smiles on their faces, people who without a doubt were criminals... all I knew was that was not the place I belonged.

         I was court ordered to do a lot for my DUI.  I had to commit to fifty hours of community service, attend a class for two months about alcohol and drug abuse, take a class about safe drivers, and visit a prison.  In my prison tour, I was in a group of about twenty girls. We had to hold hands with another girl and walk in a straight line.  We were in the inmates home.  No bars, no windows, no fence in between these prisoners.  Our tour guides were four female inmates that had been locked up for sixteen years.  Those four shared their stories with us.  I was not only the youngest in my group, but the only one with a DUI.  Out of the four, two of the inmates made sure to present their stories straight towards me...for driving under the influence was the very reason they were wearing that tan uniform with a printed reminder reading "inmate".   One of them was arrested at 19.  She was very similar to the person I was back then... a partier that always said, "Oh, I drive better drunk."  She said that until she killed a three month old child by drinking a driving.  The second woman was someone who still sends chills down my spine to this day.  She told me that she was never a heavy drinker, that she had maybe been to three bars in her entire life.  One day she had a couple beers and remembered she had to pick up a few things at the store.  She then began to tell us that she wrecked and killed two children... an eight and two year old. As she paused, she continued to tell us that those two kids were her very own children inside her vehicle.  She then put in my hands, pictures of her two children and of the vehicle after the wreck.  That was the day that I realized I never will step foot in a vehicle after drinking or if the driver has been drinking.

         The one thing I did, that wasn't court ordered, was grow as a person and learn to appreciate getting a DUI. During my process, I was living with my mother and my grandparents.  My entire family drinks. Whether it's all day, a couple drinks a day, three times a week... my family drinks.  My point in saying this is, it's not easy to quit when you're surrounded by drunks.  It either makes you want to drink again or it makes you want to enforce them to quit.  As tough as it got to get my point across sometimes, eventually my family supported me in my decision to quit.  I have alcoholics on both my mother's and father's side of the family.  I'm very prone to becoming a serious alcoholic. But learning from my mistakes in the past and seeing what condition I would be in if I kept drinking, makes drinking never an option.

         Today, I'm a different person.  Ten months ago I was a partier.  I was the girl who wanted all the attention at a get-together.  I was someone who drank until I couldn't or until I did something stupid.  Today I'm the girl who stays sober.  I'm the girl who can go to a party and not think twice about picking up any drink of alcohol.  I will ALWAYS be the girl who knows that every decision I make is under a strong sober mind.  My process to this life was the hardest but the most rewarding experience I've gone through.  I know a lot of people who read this may never understand what it's like to not drink, to go through and see the things I saw, or to eliminate the only way they can feel accepted.  A party life will never be a successful life.  An alcoholic is nothing but a failure to life.  To pick up alcohol and let it fade the image of the beautiful chance of life we are all given, is to let go of control on the only chance you're given. 

                           From a sober mind,
                                Amanda Rae
                         

Friends or clients?

         In life, I've come across a wide variety of groups of friends. I've lost a lot friends and found many along the way.  One thing that has always stayed true, was the kind of friend I am.  In my opinion, the type of friend you are can make a huge impact on the people you surround yourself with.  In order to have friends, you've got to be a true friend yourself.  Leaving all cockiness aside, I know I'm what you would call a true friend.

         Quality is more important than quanity when it comes to friends.  I'm pretty sure I only have four friends.  I have many aquaintances but an aquaintance is not a friend.  People whom come in your life time to time are not considered friends. Friends are people that are constantly making an influence in your life and are always there for you for anything.  I am the type of person who will be there for you as I think I should.  If you come to me with a problem, I'm going to try and help you through it the best I can.  I'm not going to help you find an easy way out, but I'll help you try to solve or get through the tough times in the way I believe is right.

         For me, I consider the little things bigger than the big things.  A birthday is obviously a big deal, but being the first person to call someone on their birthday is a bigger deal to me.  I always try my hardest to do all the little things for my friends... being the one that they will always come to for anything.  But over time, I've begun wondering if I'm trying too hard to be a good friend. When you use all of your ability to be the best friend that you can be, you expect a certain quality out of yourself... you have a set image of what a true friend really is.  Once you begin to obtain this image, you start to look at your friends and wonder why they don't do the same things as you do.

          I don't believe my friends are any less of a true friend than I am, but recently I began to question it.  You see, not too long ago I made a very difficult decision for my life.  Some of you may have read about it in a previous post, but with my friends knowing what was going on... I expected some friendly help.  I got sorrow from my friends but after that was over, I didn't receive much of anything else.  In all honestly, everyday I talk to at least one of those four friends about a problem they are having.  Sometimes I wondered if these were my actual friends I'm talking to or were they just clients that used me for a pick-me-up. I  literally put all of myself into making sure I do my best at helping out their situation and once days have passed by, I check up on them.  I'm constantly asking my friends how they are doing with whatever is going on in their life. In return, I have not received one question about my recent life change.  But I heard some knowledge from a very close person that helped me out with my friends or clients problem...

         I'm a different kind of person.  You see, its not that I was in pain or upset from what occured in my life... I just wanted my friends to check up on me.  I wanted them to prove to me that they are here for me and care about what I'm going through.  I had to realize though, I'm not what one would call a normal person.  I don't like to share emotions and I'm pretty invincible when it comes to getting "hurt".  So why would my friends come and check up on me when they know I'm fine?  I now realize that my friends do care about what I go through, they just know me well enough to know that I don't need to be checked up on.  To me, that means they are more than true friends.

         When you come across something in life similar to this, you need to take a few steps back and look at the big picture.  You need to acknowledge the type of people you are dealing with and understand that a true friend is not the same for everyone.  Your true friends probably ask you how you are doing constantly... my true friends know the answer to that question before asking!
                                     yours truly,
                                   Amanda Rae