%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters. |
| ........ |
| When is a blog not a blog? At what point does it become a journal? Is there any difference between the two? Other than a journal is personal and a blog is out there for all to see. What are the advantages and or disadvantages of either one? These are rhetorical questions, and it is a good thing they are. I've learned not to expect answers to the questions I pose on this blog (bar a few kind people, who I appreciate very much). For the last week or so, I've been weighing up if I should continue with this blog. Am I helping anyone deal with their own struggles? Am I helping anyone at all? I simply don't know. I certainly hope so, but not knowing, for me, is something of a struggle in itself. Do I feel sad? Disappointed? Let down? Definitely, I am confused as to why so very few who do read this blog offer any kind of support...other than to read and then leave. My friend Hummingbird offered that this is not a support site, and so, to expect those who read the blog to care about me and my struggles, especially considering we all struggle with something, might be a little presumptuous on my part. I would counter that I was just hopeful, and there's nothing wrong with having hope, is there? Perhaps she is right, and I do expect too much. But, the way I feel right now is that there is something not quite right here. This blog is the vehicle I use in search of support, and, if there are people along the way who ask for my advice or assistance, I would be glad to help in any way I can. WdC is the freeway that links the towns (individual members, in other words). I used to think that WdC was the community, but, as I previously stated, I don't know if I am the odd one out, or if it's apathy or something else I don't understand. My image of what a community is must be skewed from the reality of what it really is. All I know is that from where I stand, I feel like I'm the car wreck on the side of this freeway and that most are just driving by, with few stopping to offer any form of support. The fact is that most who do read this blog have no intention of stopping or typing..."Hey, Neil...keep up the fight." For those who never review, and I'm not just talking about reviewing my work, but anyone's sweat and tears...those who read our words and leave without any show of appreciation, encouragement or word of advice because it's too hard or takes too much time or they are too afraid of repercussions or for whatever reason or excuse for doing this, I hope you change this lack of care and try more to support your fellow writers in their journey...but as far as this blog is concerned, there's no blood and nothing more to see. Do I belong here in this community of like-minded creative people? I hope so, but that's not a question for me to answer. This is my last entry for this blog...again, thank you to those who have shown me their support and care...you know where to find me if you need me in any way. |
| When I'm on my bike, it is a form of meditation for me. Focusing on my breathing, gear selection and the hill ahead clears my mind of debris, and when I get back home becomes the best time for me to think and write creatively. This is when most blog posts are born. In the past, I have given methamphetamines human qualities in my writing...'she' is how I refer to the drug. I'm not sure if this is a good or a bad thing "My Love's Reach"  Every time I try to escape her, I fail, and this is why I changed my approach this time around. The three months on and three months off plan, was me avoiding a reality that I, at that stage in my recovery, couldn't face. When I came up with the idea, it was definitely something I was contemplating in a literal sense, but only four weeks into this journey, I am slowly coming to grips with the reality of long term abstinence, or face the fact that I will die much younger than I should. For the moment, I am using this plan as a crutch...a safety net so to speak. And once the three months is up, I hope and pray that I make the right choice...do another three months without using meth or completely accept that I can no longer use this drug to escape feelings of abandonment, sorrow and loss. The thing with meth is, it's a great drug to help the user forget...we forget to live and we forget that every day we use, is taking weeks of our lives. We forget how to laugh and how to cry...although once the tolerance becomes outrageous and we can no longer afford or sustain the dosages needed to avoid these feelings overwhelming us, they wash over our lives like a tsunami. At first, we cry, and then we become fearful of not having the drug...anxiety and severe withdrawals can last for days or even weeks. Then things settle, and the only remnants are nighttime bouts of prickly skin...like someone has a voodoo doll of me and is picking it with a pin, which always comes when I am trying to get to sleep. Sleep patterns begin to go back to normal after a month. Before this though, especially during the first two weeks, twelve to fifteen hours a day of sleep is required to make up for the months of insomnia, where I recently slept for two nights in fourteen. After one particular binge, I nodded off on my bed one afternoon after not sleeping for many days, and an hour or so later awoke with complete amnesia...I had no idea who or where I was, thinking I must have been drunk at a party and had blacked out. It lasted for around a minute and was really scary stuff. As the after-effects of taking meth begin to dissipate and the drug clears the system, there comes a flood of emotions and creativity and is almost, if not better, than taking the drug as a newbie. This is too much to control in a normal manner, and as much as it is a very joyous and happy experience, it doesn't last. Week four is when these good emotions settle. The highs of the last two weeks wane and my moods begin to level out, only at a much lower level than if I hadn't taken the drug in the first place. Things that would cause anyone to feel down, cause me to feel like the world is ending. Sadness and frustration and anger come much too quickly and remaining sober then becomes a struggle to maintain. Week four through to week twelve will be my test. How much I want my addiction to end, compared to how much I want the high. It is that simple. I have given this some thought and I have a few different ideas that I haven't tried before. I hope these plans can sway that decision when it comes, in my favour. But, there are no guarantees in this battle I wage, and to say otherwise would be a pure and adulterous lie. |
| I'm questioning something tonight, and maybe it's a case of expecting too much. We are a community here on WDC...like-minded and caring people who support each other in this art that we love. I could be very wrong here, but, at least from where I am standing, there seems to be an imbalance of sorts. I have worked so hard to improve my writing in the eighteen months I've been here. One hundred and seventy pieces that I have put my heart and soul into all on my port for others to enjoy...at least, that's the hope. I check my stats regularly and can see which pieces are going well (how many have read each one) and which are not. Some items have well over a hundred reads, and yet, will have perhaps one or two reviews. Now, as an artist, this puzzles me. Does this mean the story is rubbish and out of the hundred people who read it, only a few thought it worthy of spending a few minutes writing a short review...or even just thanking me for sharing? Is it that most are indifferent? Or, is it that the majority just couldn't be bothered to give back to the artist what they took out? In Australia, when we drive in the country, there used to be dotted around the place stalls where the farmer would place fruit or produce at the front gate. No one is in attendance and there is usually an honesty box where if we, the public, stop in and take something from the stall, it is understood that a donation of sorts is placed into the box. There are no fixed prices and it is up to the individual what they think is a fair thing...perhaps just some loose change will suffice. And at the end of the day, the farmer's kids would go down to the front gate, gather any leftovers and check the box. Once upon a time, not so long ago, it would be almost unheard of for someone to take something and not leave some form of payment in the honesty box. But, times have changed, and it isn't surprising that nowadays, nowhere near as many of these stalls are about. I will leave it to your imagination why this is so, but it certainly says something about a community where people take the work of another and give nothing in return. Should I be bitter about this lack of consideration? I know I have read some works on other people's ports and not reviewed them...mostly because I couldn't identify with the work, and if this is true for everyone who has read my work, that tells me that I should take up another hobby because obviously, two or three out of a hundred or more who read me think I am worth the five minutes it takes, and the other 98% think I am hopeless. You see, that's what happens...when there is no feedback from the majority, we assume that the work must therefore be rubbish. I spend quite a bit of time and effort writing this blog. It's not just about my life, but trying to do it in a way that people will find interesting or educational. When I began this blog, it was never going to be just about me. I hoped that it might help someone else who finds themselves in a similar place...addicted to drugs. I am thankful to all those who have supported me throughout my journey so far... Simply a LeJenD Ruwth Hummingbird Buddhangela's Brave and Crazy StarLineSpring WakeUpandLive Benjamin Black Wordsmitty Jon Dakota Lilli Rapali Goswami Tina launching into the deep Sum 1 Mary Ann MCPhedran littlesong Kare Enga back in Montana Michael Jay Aich Dog Pack saving4 premium renew QP doll SandraLynn Redtowrite Addison Warped Sanity Schnujo Samberine Everose Lazy Writer Mischevious Mike Tiggy Snow is Writing Poetry Blueyez Cass--Ready for Summer Spirit Rising Tide... That's quite a list and I thank you all for showing your support. This is why I continue because without these people SHOWING me they care...even a simple click of a thumbs up is all that it takes, I doubt I would. I am going to do more reviews to try to change this apathy towards showing support for each other's work...anyone who thinks along the same lines is welcome to join. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
