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Wednesday, March 23, 2011

off she goes....

....and that's exactly what i did...and it was good at first, my hurt.

i disappeared into it. i needed it to justify the escape. the moment when the liquid rolled smoothly across my lips, thats the moment i hurt for. within seconds relief. numb slowly washed over my body. like when you dip a fabric into water....the moisture quickly absorbs creeping up through it, defying gravity. thirsty. i relaxed, alcohol seduced me, it lifted me slowly up and gently carried me far far away. nothing hurt there. i was sure anyone who saw me would think...look at her; such a brave tormented soul, so strong and so real. she is surviving. there's something remarkably beautiful about the beginning of alcoholism. the way it loves you entirely. the way it devours you completely. there's nothing beautiful about the end of it though. but at 18 i was only just taking flight. my wings just unfolding...i was gonna fucking soar.

alcohol was my new safety. my new hiding place. the fuzzy corners pulled up like a warm blanket, every sip i would ease myself further from life. when i came out of the drunk it obviously hurt. the stark reality hurt. the soberness and brightness hurt. hangover's became constant. a best friend who never let me down, always waiting, always there. the very first time i tasted it i had wanted more, the thirst came from inside me.
although i'm not exactly sure where over the next few years i would loose my ability to choose. when i wanted it and when i needed it. over the next few years if i started i wasn't able to stop. i lost the control of choice. progressively, it takes time. you don't die all at once silly. that would be far too serious. you die in little pieces.

with booze comes men. it didn't take me long to tally up a few notches on theold  bed post. my friend E counted but i could barely remember the day of the week let alone how many men had been through my pants. sex was a means to an end. men bought drinks, smokes. they drove. they showed you off. they had cash. they were easy to manipulate because they wanted one thing. you slept with them to get rid of them after you'd gotten what you wanted. didn't everyone do this? i wanted to drink far more than i wanted anything else. the dressing up. the socializing. the dancing, the laughter. it was just part of the game. it seemed men had more power so i played their game. getting their attention, getting their room key. how fun. getting alcohol. serious business.

most of my partying was done in banff with my friend E. canmore wasn't a cool place to party unless you were sitting in the stolen family minivan down by the power station drinking and smoking with some equally angst ridden high school girlfriend. M. she had pink hair, thats how mad she was. her and i did that once or twice. or the dyke. the bush parties where you fell into rivers and bonfires. the cops half heartedly chased you.   waking up in mud, pissed pants, twigs in your hair.

in banff we'd party more civilized. we'd do our hair and makeup. we'd wear sexy shoes. E would stay at her boyfriend's place. i'd have to find a guy to find a bed. my most frequent choice was D.  he was a bouncer. yes a fat head but he was a hunk. green eyes and the muscles on his arms. 3am i'd beg to crash. he'd always let me in. i don't remember the sex apart from that he could never come. probaly because he had a girlfriend. sometimes she would come over early in the morning and ring the buzzer in the back alley at the bottom of the stairs. the stairs that lead up to his place. the stairs i'd fallen up so many times before. i'm sure my DNA is still on those fucking stairs. D lived in a loft above a mainstreet business. one morning his gf was on her way up. he yanked me out of bed, mumbled 'sorry'...opened the steel bedroom door which led out onto the roof and shoved me out into the blinding early morning sun. half dressed, head swollen from booze, mascara smudged. the door opened again. thank god...and out flew my shoes. fucker. so there under the huge judgmental sky i sat clumsily in the corner of that roof with the little silver chimneys, on small white rocks hoping no one could see me. and if they did see me maybe they would think i was just hanging out, smoking, waiting for my prince.

the first time i felt shame however wasn't a luxury stay in banff but a sleazy pub night in canmore. an old bald creepy looking bartender feeding me shot after shot after shot. flirt and drank for free? earlier i had put on lipstick on and kissed over a shot glass down onto the napkin to make a print of my lips. my napkin along with many other's was put up onto his bar for a keepsake. peanuts shells trampled on all over the floor. dumb ski signs hung on the walls and above the doors. 3am with only stragglers left he followed me into the womens washrooms and forced me to my knee's. held my head. i threw up into my mouth. afterwards i snorted the cocaine he gave me because i was so ashamed. my drinks hadn't been free after all.

i finished my high school through correspondence. S wrote me letters every 2-3wks from nepal. i still have them tied up in a bundle, the paper soft and blue. i missed him so badly.
it was at this point i decided that travelling would save me. the geographical cure. a new perspective. what was the very opposite side of the world to canmore? australia. i think my mother gave in and let me spend a chunk of her baby bonus 'savings' for me to travel with instead of put towards education because she knew it was all or nothing with me. i was in my self destruct 'phase' and from what she'd already seen she knew i was an already steadily ticking time bomb. i also think she felt guilty because of the whole dad thing which of course i used to my advantage. 1000$ towards my ticket, i saved the rest. my 1st passport. i almost failed my medical exam because i had keynotes in my urine. inadequate diet/nourishment from throwing up. trying to be skinny for S. but hey... to hell with him and to hell with everything else.  i would just leave everything behind.
i would recreate myself. see the world. explore. find whatever it was that was missing...because something was definitely missing. so....whoosh off she goes....

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

S is for sin

so....mmmm.......ah yes. living in sin...in mom's basement. 

i had lied to S about my age for an entire month when we first met. smug and horny he figured i was 19'ish and damn if i didn't figure i had it made. i had him hooked. S was going to take care of me and all i had to do was keep him happy. i didn't feel good about myself inside but my outside, now that got attention. the infamous macfarlan clevage. now listen up mother's/father's...the power and thrill that this type of attention brings to a girl who doesn't think she's worthwhile is incredible. it dangerous and terrifying. it changes who you are. it made me feel beautiful and special. it made me feel like i counted. i didn't bother myself thinking about the fact his attentions might have been for all the wrong reasons. i equated his attention to being a worthy person. i gave him my power. if he thought i was good, then i was good. my esteem became dependent entirely on male approval. (BAD)

he brought me to the army base and flaunted me in front of all the other soldier's in the tiny dark tv room with my party friend E. we wore our tightest 'outfits'. i cringe at a memory flash or faux leather pants. like plastic almost very sweaty inside. S held my hand and kissed my cheek at the coffee shop downtown. people talked but someone had picked me, claimed me...i felt untouchable, protected from their judgments. i had a man, not a boy. i was 16 then he was 31. how cool did i feel. really fucking cool. 

S and i camped and hiked all over kaninaskis. we white water rafted. he taught me how to climb. how to build shelter in the woods. which bear poop belonged to who, which berry to eat/not eat. he trained the army in outdoor adventure's and i got to live so much of it first hand. when i think of him, i remember being outside. best of all i was creating a new identity. i was going to be the healthy nature girl. i soon started to realize i wasn't as 'fit' as i could have been. i smoked but i wasn't about to quit that because it kept you thin. i'm sure i can thank cosmopolitan magazine for that trivial piece of bullshit not that they endorsed tobacco but fat girls didn't have boyfriends was the overall message within the pages. i started running, nothing quite like the feeling of getting away from something physically. running running running. i had angry feminist raging ani difranco music blaring in my ears and a self manta i would repeat to myself each step my foot hit the pavement....worthless stupid fat bitch...he's not gonna want you....worthless stupid fat bitch...nobody likes you.... i rode my bike a lot. i also started throwing up everything i ate. i would go to wendy's and eat till i was stuffed, it felt so good to be full...having a secret also felt good. i was taking matters into my own hands. i had the control. i had a job as a chambermaid in canmore so i often was in bathrooms which made it easy. the hardest part is a quiet place to do it. i imagined the lives of the people's rooms i was in, their perfume bottles on the bathroom counter, their beautiful jewlery and clothing. the ladies must have been married and happy, loved. the men's shirts thrown casually onto chairs. their belts across beds. ironed suits. professionals. father's who probably loved their kids. how did people end up so successful? how did people end up important like that? ....their things scattered in rooms for useless people like me to pick up. i envied them. 

had moved out of mom's to bow valley campground which is just north of the exit to kananaskis country. it isnt a town, its basically half dozen houses for staff of the park. no store just tree's. he rented a room off a woman named K. she sneered at me and visa versa. i once rode my bike there to suprise them because i was sure she liked him and was acting on it. from canmore 20 mins by car...it must have taken me hours on my 3 speed bike. i'd have done anything to keep my place.
now if your well versed on bulimia you know that you don't actually get much skinnier, if anything you gain weight; something about your body going into starvation mode and clinging onto every calorie consumed thereafter. i had bloodshot eyes i threw up so violently and so often. i began chain smoking. i hated that i still lived at home it made me feel like i was a child. S didn't want to live together so i started working night shifts at a pub downtown and renting a room in canmore to prove my independence. my landlord L introduced me to whiskey and john lee hooker. no funny business he was a good man. i'd dropped out just before meeting S but was now taking my classes through correspondence booklets. i came left as i pleased.

when i turned 17 and we had 'dated for 2 years S started talking about travelling. he wanted to go to nepal. he began to finalize his trekking plans, mapping routes, confirming dates...finally purchasing his plane tickets. i had no extra money so i couldnt follow. i say follow because i wasn't invited. he was moving on. my security evaporating i was terrified and angry at him. i felt it before i knew it. i was being abandoned. again. the maturity i felt by with S started to disappear. same as before i didn't believe in me. truthfully there was no real relationship. c'mon how long can sex with a teenage girl float your boat. 2 years thats how long. i couldn't change his mind. i contemplated skipping my birth control pill to trap him. probably cosmo thinking again. but it was inevitable and instead of being deserted again i beat him to the punch. i went right back to the escape zone. drinking and drinking and drinking some more. we fought more and more. it was the end. S left for nepal. the day he flew i drank 2litres of pink zinfedel and fell into blackouts waking up only to cry. i smoked till i couldn't breathe. i drank till i couldn't see. 

my friend E and i were back in full swing, thick as thieves. now of actual legal drinking with real ID'S the bouncers did big fat headed double takes thinking 'huh haven't these two been coming in here for 3 years?' yup. and now i had a mission. delete it all. delete my life.