Cocaine is a Hell of a Drug

I have read several sources that claim being in love is like being high on cocaine.  For weeks I couldn't sleep more than 6 hours, I was hardly eating and every waking moment took me down with thoughts of him.  I couldn't focus on work, or anything else.  For a while all I could do was write and run.  After an extra dose of cocaine, you start to want more, and more, and more... I became a junkie.  My drug dealer started to notice that I was becoming a fiend, and he started to dole out the source in a calculated and safer manner.  But a junkie can't just ween off without facing the problem on one's own.  I freaked out, I got itchy, jumpy and super sensitive over everything.  I have to wonder, is controlled, well-dosed out servings the best way to proceed?  Let's be honest, an addict can't just have one drink and call it quits for the week.  I am a junkie of all kinds of vices, and even though the years have given me wisdom and manageable self-control, this is a new kind of drug; and I like it a lot.  

His amazing love is my cocaine, but he is not responsible for being my dealer.  He couldn't possibly be that sinister.  No, this addiction is my cross to bear alone and as in any comedown, one must bear the shame of behaviors this junkie has displayed.  This past year has been a long road of comedowns, and have taught me that sobriety is grounding, peaceful and ultimately so much healthier.  I don't know if I can taste the cocaine in small doses and find a way to have self-control to let it go when it's time, but this is an ultimate exercise in self awareness.  I have never had a love like this before, and I think I am meant to finally learn those nagging old lessons; to really draw healthy boundaries and practice great self love.  I've easily lost myself in someone else before, and as any addiction, it doesn't end well.  You lose friends, it isolates you from the people you love outside the relationship and you end up alone and lost when it ends.  

This is not my first rodeo with addiction, but with everything, healthy living is a practice and not easily learned overnight.  I like to think I try to make every life challenge a learning and growing experience; using deep self examination and allowing it to carve out a better me.  There is indeed a lot of heartbreak in the world, but I have to work at not allowing that to always be my narrative.  Pain, suffering, grief and addiction are indeed a part of my story; but I think this new found and glorious love is here to remind and show me that life is also incredibly beautiful, caring and trustworthy.  It's time for me to write that story too.  

The Deep End

There is this moment, when you meet someone, after dating them for a little while, that you know in your heart you want this person to continue being a part of your life.  Once your heart sinks a little, and you get butterflies knowing you'll be seeing them soon, you're a fucking goner.  As their character unfolds, and doesn't disappoint, every waking moment begins to take you hostage by thoughts of them.  I've been bit, bit by the arrow, and I've been bit hard.  Sure, this person still has flaws; and one is not so naive as to ignore them completely.   A wise older married couple once told me, marriage is a compromise; you just have to decide what you're willing to live with, and what you can't live without.  

Even though I've been a tough old broad, independent since age 17 and spent many years alone, I've always known that I would one day find the amazing and grounding relationship I need, deserve and want.  I am admittedly, a hardcore romantic; a deeply emotional and hard-loving woman.  I fall fast, I fall hard and usually, by the 6 month mark, I know in my heart if this is going to work out.  The honeymoon is always great, but as is the case in almost all of my past relationships, I usually ignored that strong intuition of knowing it's time to turn around and go the other way.  Maybe I do this because I've already invested so much, but I think it's mostly because I never learned to trust myself.  I made a promise, after giving another four years to a decidedly obvious bad decision, I would trust myself without a doubt the next time around until I land where it's great; not good... great.  

Let's be honest, falling in love is actually desperately agonizing.  It's full of anxiety, insecurity and unknowing.  So why then, should this seemingly wonderful feeling, at the same time be so completely painful?  It's the prospect of hope.  Hope is the killer of all assuredness.  One only hopes this is the last time you have to go seeking, to start over getting to know someone, building trust and finding a deeper connection.  By a certain age, you become exhausted, jaded and gun-shy.  At this point, I pretty much gave up looking and decided to settle on just being the best me, date myself and invest in my dream future as a single.  Although it is scary as fuck to think of the prospect of me building some sort of homestead on a remote piece of land off-grid, I have the courage to try.  The beautiful and most exhilarating yet scary thing, is meeting someone with the same goal.  That killer hope, could really burn my heart if this seemingly perfect life-mate doesn't pan out.  Who the hell is going to build my earthship if it isn't he?  

So, as they say, tread lightly; eyes wide open, protect yourself, don't give it all away too fast, etc. etc. blah blah.  It's true, being broken causes you to build walls, to shield yourself from risk and daring to dream.  As a dreamer, a lover and a fighter; I'll stick with Hemingway: "The best way to trust someone, is to trust them".  So here I go...head first.  

Oakland

Oakland is a town rich with history; black history; rife with stories of bygone eras, rough and glorious. Growing up in the Bay Area, Oakland was only a place my dad worked late at night from the early 80's until today. I remember harried stories of the crack days and beautiful Chinese restaurant owners who sent home pastries. Oakland was never on my radar until my best friends paved the wild west and claimed it was fantastic. So I made the move, and what I bring is 8 years of hard fought loyalty. I am a die hard A's fan, a Baggy's/Queer/Lake/West/Kaiser Employed/Soldier Death Sibling Survivor/Bike Party/Neighborhood Beautification Project Loving Oakland Woman. Sometimes I feel like the Carrie Bradshaw of my apartment building, I will never leave until my "Big" chance comes along. Oakland, your stray cats, Bermuda Triangle, progressive communities, idealistic city council and bizarre Mayor make me love you. You have been the backdrop for my life. The "pot" for my roots to grow. You have created the perfect scene for a life of color, creativity and challenge. I have seen Chicago, Madison, LA, New York, Miami and DC, and nothing compares to your micro-climate 70 degree weather, Brooklyn Ave and perfectly climbable native Grand Oak Trees. There are three things I respect more than anything: Billie Holiday, The Truth, and Oakland. Billie will always feel like home, the truth will wrap you in Freedom and Oakland, the perfect backdrop for it all.