Archive for the ‘drugs’ Tag

August 15, 2015   1 comment

I realize that there was a time when I wrote on this blog very often and then stopped.  I would come back and promise to write, but never really picked it back up.  I wanted to, but I never had the motivation.  I’ve started several other blogs under several other email address, different identities that tap into other sides of my personality, but I just can’t seem to get the ball rolling.  My brain is faulty I guess, I don’t know.  But i loved this blog at one time and I miss the sense of it being my “home base” so I want to write this out so if I am not able to come back again any time soon there is at least some sense as to why.

So much as happened to me in the last few years.  In 2004 my father died.  In 2007 my partner of 8 years died.  In 2012 my mother died.  All of those things are probably written about in here.  But they all also changed me and left me wanting for more.  Then my absolute faith in God was challenged and I have spent the last 4 years or so basically living my life as an atheist.  If you knew me, you would know just how intense and bizarre that was for me.  Then, last week, I just sat down on the edge of the tub of my bathroom and started talking to him again.  Him being God.  For the first time in four years.  We just talked.  And it was amazing.  It was like nothing I have ever felt before.

But you don’t have to worry about me becoming some kind of religious nut.  The relationship I have with God is really different than most people in that it’s a strong committed relationship, but it’s also very relaxed and open.  There are no rules really.  I don’t have to do this or that to make him happy.  We’re friends and he loves me just like I love him.  We just talk.  And share our stories.  And from time to time, I take  his advice.

But I do want to tell the story of my life.  And that’s going to take a certain turn.  It’s going to include my mental illness which means you’re going to hear about the fact that I have been hearing voices nearly all of my life.  And one of those voices has been Gods.  I can’t be sure if that’s real or not.  You’ll have to decide for yourself.  Just let me tell you my story and you listen and figure out what you want.

Anyway, I’m going to sum this up now with a clear “Thank you”.  I have enjoyed writing on this blog for the batch of you who read this.  And when I get around to it, it will mean a lot to me knowing I can count on your all to be intelligent, kind readers.

Take care for now,



Train   Leave a comment

Rivers follow down to this little stream in me
That cross divides
The beggar and the believer
Even though neither has felt sunlight
For as long as sunlight has been a thing

The ache in my head grows deep
And finds its way into my ears
The sound of everything
Comes passed a hissing and a rattle
And the doctors say it’s just another
Infection or irritation but I can’t help but wonder
Just what has crawled inside of me
And died
This time

I wanted to bury things that bothered me
I wanted to let go of the ones that have lived and died
I wished on stars and burned the images of a god
That never answered back
And here I am
Surrounded by voices and shadows and the crippled lover
Who promises she’ll never leave me
Unless that’s what I want from her

I can’t be the only one to see the sick side of humor
I can’t be the only one left understanding the joke
My life has become
Or was diagramed to be from the jump

But no one really comes and sits beside me and says
Hey girl I get it
And I won’t judge you if you cut and run
I’ve seen what you’re juggling and this shit is serious
And you need to go get yourself a bottle of pills, a razor, a gun

All I get is some talk about how shit gets easier
And how there are loved ones who need me
And then there is all this promise that somehow tomorrow is going to be
Something better than today and all the yesterdays combined
Like life is a fucked up version of a word problem from some 4th grade math class

Well, I never did follow along with those
I was too busy wondering which mother I was going home to or
Which father was going to pick me up that weekend or
What it might be like if the wrong neighborhood boy
Caught me in the cornfield
I’m sorry
I just never felt the need to daydream
So far in advance as to wonder about
That eastbound train heading out of Chicago
At 80mph
But maybe that would’ve been a better thing to focus on
All along
Because all this worrying
This shit hasn’t gotten me anywhere either
And I’m ready
I’m ready
To take that ride.


Karen’s Got Pneumonia And I’ve Got the Blues   1 comment


I keep making things up.  I suppose I could just settle for some definition of what I’m doing that leaves me sounding creative and daring, but really I think that I’m just bored and a slight touch demented.  I come up with some other person I’d rather be; a name, a personality, a complete background and family tree and just live out a few days or even a whole lifetime as this new creation.  If I could be organized enough, motivated enough to write it all out and do something with it then I could say that I was an artist of some great means, but really it’s all just for my own entertainment.  It keeps me from hurting myself and lashing out at others and I know that there is some great benefit there.  I mean, any day that I wake up and know for a fact that there are no victims from the day before I can open my eyes and feel victorious.  But I am starting to worry more and more about all of this wasted time.  And I don’t just mean wasted as in “where is my life going” or “what am I amounting to with me doing nothing but daydreaming?”  I am referring to the actual loss of time that has been occurring.  I mentioned it to the psychiatrist and he made notes about it in my file.  It concerned him enough to discuss it with me again the following visit but of course I am now done with my time at Kennedy so all of the progress I have made with him is now dust in the wind which is always the case.  I never seem to get anywhere with anyone in therapy.  Just as we start down an interesting road I stop seeing that particular person and never because it is what I want.  This time it is because my 12 weeks of Intensive Outpatient is completed.  I have to start going to Catholic Charities now.  I don’t much like the idea of it, but what can I do?  With the limit Medicaid that I receive currently it was that or Drenk and Drenk had a 3 month waiting list.  I am a bit mistrusting and paranoid actually and not sure I believe Drenk.  I preferred going back to them for my individual therapy and medication monitoring, but I truthfully believe that my old therapist is still there.  She was supposed to be leaving their employment in late August, but when I called her extension it was still set up with her information.  I don’t think she wants to continue with me and I don’t think they feel I am stable enough to walk into that building, see her in person and not freak out and accept another therapist.  I admit, I got way too attached to her and I understand their concerns.  But truthfully, for as much hassle as going to a new place will cause me I would much rather go back to Drenk and see another therapist and just leave things be.  But they don’t know this and are probably just being evasive to keep things calm over there.  So they are saying they can’t take me back and now Catholic Charities is my only option.  From how it’s been explained to me, I will probably do a weekly therapy, see a nurse practitioner for medication and maybe have to attend a group.  I’m not sure how often the group will be, maybe weekly or bi-weekly.  I hope not much more than that.  They are located about 10 minutes further than Drenk and my old car has had enough of all these trips.  But regardless, it will be closer than Kennedy which was roughly 45 minutes and 28 miles away for me.  I must admit, the groups that I attended at Kennedy did help me.  They let me feel comfortable joining in discussions and being a part of the entire process of sharing and opening up.  So I am must more inclined now, I think to take part in my own therapy, both group and individual.  I don’t think therapy is something you are just born understanding out to utilize.  And that’s a shame because when you really need help you go for so long and it’s wasted just having you go and sit there and be afraid and closed off.  But now I know I will walk into any therapist office or any group setting and barring any bizarre scene I will do my part to get the most out of the help offered.  It makes me really full of hope and possibility.  I also know now that even though a lot of why I start going to therapy is because of anger and such what I really need help with is my PTSD.  My anxiety and fear is what leads me to my anger, but if you need to know where it all begins and what really stops me in my tracks from leading a healthy, happy life it’s the overwhelming fear and nervousness that I live with on a daily basis.  Out of the 24 hours of each day, second by second, I am spending so many of my hours consumed with doubt, paranoia, dread and an agony of disappointing people and being alarmed by the simplest of things.  I am at a constant level of stress and anxiety that I have just grown to expect it, but it corrupts everything about me, about my life and about my reactions.  And now I’m at a point where I am so tired and overwhelmed that my ability to manage it and hide it has fallen apart and what the world is seeing is anger and this violent, agitated, near demonic side of me that was always just below the surface and aimed at myself but now, more often than not, pouring over the brim and effecting them.  I don’t know this wasn’t a story or typical blog post.  My girlfriend is in the hospital with pneumonia and my head is frazzled because I’m alone and feeling too much freedom and way too emotional.  I know I haven’t posted in a while and I just wanted to say something and this is what came bumbling, stumbling out of my head.  I feel like there is a chance I could accidentally hurt myself while she’s gone.  That is such a strange thing to say, to admit to.  She drives me nuts and I spend a lot of time taking care of her when she’s home, but she still manages to keep me safe.  With her in the hospital I am alone and unattended and I feel like I want to do something risky.  Like I could cut myself or take a lot of pills just to do something dangerous.  I don’t know why I have these urges.  I just do.  When my old girlfriend would spend time in the hospital she always knew that as soon as I made sure she was ok I would go out and spend all of our money on drugs and just get totally fucked up.  It was like our routine.  I don’t do that anymore.  But in the absence of that plan I still want to do something risky.  I just am older now and tired and not feeling well.  But those demons still want to play.  They are still digging their claws into my brain and taunting me.  Who knows how I will shut them up?  I’ll have to figure something out.  I think I have 3 more days till she comes home.  And it is officially the first day of FALL which thrills me to no end.  Maybe when I wake up I’ll go get some hot coffee and spend the day out and about.  Anything to keep me from sitting in this house alone with sharp objects and pill bottles that sounds like a good idea doesn’t it?

Fuck it.

Wish me luck and shit.


I am Where?   Leave a comment

Ah, I am feeling so strange tonight; listening to music, moving about online, not really able to focus much on anything.  I wish I had something to take my attention.  I wish there was a topic that I wanted to sink my teeth into, but really what I feel like doing is drifting off into a drug induced haze.  I don’t want to get high, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not in the mood to “party” or hit the streets or anything.  I just want to disappear for a good long while and drugs are the easiest way I have of achieving that.

When I was younger I used to do this intense breathing pattern stuff that would pretty much cause me to hyperventilate and leave me feeling way over stimulated.  My limbs would tingle and my chest would feel like it was poked with a million tiny holes that the light of the universe was pouring out of.  Somehow I felt like I was a sincere piece of the outer shell of the night sky and it felt right, I felt like I found my place.  I guess I wish I was able to get back to that spot on the map.  But when I take deep breathes now, I just get dizzy.

Even oxygen is too powerful a drug for me.  HA!  How lame am I?

I used to meditate so freely, without much effort.  Now, when I close my eyes I feel attacked like people are always waiting for me to lower my guard.  Voices, faces, ideas, everything that can approach me seems to reach out and shake me and I am not able to find a peaceful spot anywhere inside of my own mind.

I am in a better place today than I was even just a week ago and for that I am pleased and grateful.  I am not trying to be negative.  I just would like to know where my mind has been.

The best way to describe it is like this:

Every day I walk into the house, look down and notice that my shoes are muddy and I have no idea how or why.  I wasn’t even aware of the fact that I had been outside except that I am obviously coming in with my hand still on the door.  Where my day has taken me, what I’ve been doing, who I’ve been with, there are no real memories, there are no reasons, no lessons, no purpose.  I am drifting in and out of my own life and I am pointless.

And the only thing that is clear to me, it’s getting clear anyway,  is when you don’t have a beginning, when you have no concept of your journey, all you want is the end.  Any which way, whatever it means, however it comes about.

You just want it to stop.

Jen Czahur

Splinter   Leave a comment


Red crosses lay at the foot of my bed

Made of splintered wood and stained

By the blood of battle tested,

War weary bodies thrown

On pyres, neglected by the sought after

Mighty and glistening celestial

Gods that demand in their own absence

What preachers and holy mother church

Postulate and ascertain by design of

Their own reward and etched out

In palaces and rectory halls

With sure hands that find their way

Into the very minds that doubt whether or not

There is reason to believe

Reason to question

Cancel out the faith that brings in the

Guardian light and the eager deeds of what every

Mother and father has put upon each young soul

I am not a believer

In heaven and hell

I have cast out my own demons and denounced my

Own bitter need for the sky lord

Still voices echo in my war torn head

And I find no sleep

Only red crosses at the foot of my bed

Made of splintered wood

Stained with my blood

My body warming by the flames of the nearby


Jen Czahur

Hello. I’m Tired.   Leave a comment


I was being slowly lowered off of an anti psychotic.  It was fucking up my blood sugar and making it so hard to lose weight and it seemed like overkill.  But now we see just what it was saving me from I suppose.  Down from 300 to 150mg a night and now things have just gone from fine to ridiculous.  Voices and no longer sleeping through the night, finding myself caught up in some drama that is more defined and more deliberate then anything I can remember ever being apart of before.  It’s hard after going strong for so long and not having any of this shit to deal with.  I knew I wasn’t ready to be “productive” just yet, I have a lot of work still do to, but I thought I was gaining a lot of ground.  But I am where I have always been.

I am just on the other side of the door.  The door being as big and heavy and as guarded as the dose of medication allows.  But you lower that dose and there you have it, the door opening up and allowing in the darkness.  It’s always there.  They are always there.  I am never truly alone, allowed to make up my own mind.  Without the pills, the endless stream of chemicals coursing through my bloodstream polluting my liver, my kidneys, fucking up my balance and memory, I am this crazy person who is like some colorful character from a movie you enjoy but don’t really ever want to spend time with in real life.

And I’m tired again.

I’m tired and I want to crawl away from who I am.

Jen Czahur

An Open Letter on a Personal Matter   2 comments

To Whom It May Concern,

When I say that I’ve done many things in which to be ashamed, I’m not even sure I understand the weight of those words, the power behind the statement’s intent. I’m nearly 38 years old and I am on the better end of a life of pure strife, sharing my mind, body and soul with things like severe drug addiction, sexual deviance, social anarchy and, quite honestly, a lack of connection. And here I sit having not slept, my mind racing and my heart skipping beats as if to practice stopping altogether, wondering if I even want to ask for forgiveness from anyone that I’ve offended. Because when it comes right down to it, my life has been a global event. The years have passed and the situations have taught me not just my likes and dislikes, but the sincere essence of what it means to be a human being.

Don’t judge me. At least, if you feel the overwhelming need to judge, ask me for details and pay attention to the who, what, where, when, why and how’s that play a part in my design. My guess is that we’ve all lived a life full of mistakes. I know that I have and I believe that I am not so unlike you that maybe, just maybe, you have some things to look back on and shiver with your own bout of guilt.

Yes, I have danced with every drug I know of except for peyote and no matter how “clean” I am, if I can get my hands on some I will certainly do it because I’d love to be able to say that I’ve done every drug I’ve ever heard of. I realize that sounds reckless and perhaps just plain stupid to most people, but I don’t really care. I’d rather be honest with you. And that’s the simple truth. If I find peyote, I’m going to try it. But don’t let that take away from the fact that several years ago I stopped using drugs and have only had a handful of set back in which I was very proud of the way I walked away. I prefer being a drug free individual. I am not against social drug use. Sorry. I think partying can be a fun and quite valuable way of enjoying life and learning about who you are. But I have a very addictive personality and I lack control once drugs are introduced and it just doesn’t work out well for me. Besides, I started using drugs because of a struggle I faced in dealing with my father’s drug addition and in dealing with his death and my relationship with him I have worked my way passed any justification for using anything other than properly prescribed medications.

Now, I’d like to blame all of my mistakes on drug addiction, but that just wouldn’t be sincere. Honestly, I am incredibly flawed and I know that. I know that since I’ve been a kid I’ve had a lot of problems and only in the last couple of years have I really taken any kind of responsibility for the things that I have done or the results of the mistakes I’ve made in both how they directly affected my life as well as those around me. There are countless strangers, friends and family members whom I have led astray. I’ve never been a forceful person, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been a convincing person and while I think that each and every adult needs to “man-up” and take responsibility for their actions regardless of who tempted them, I still see my part in their wrong doing and wish to be held accountable for what are deemed my crimes.

I can give you a long list of reasons as to why I am the person that I am. I can point fingers and tell stories about abuse, neglect, confusion and influence that would probably soften your aggression towards me, if not eradicate it altogether. But that’s not my style either. I go to therapy and am constantly told that I need to blame people for what they have done to me or for what they have brought into my life and while I understand that I too am a victim the chain of blame needs to be broken. Let me be the link that snaps and stops passing on the valid excuses for being a royal fuck up. I really don’t mind. As a matter of fact, I prefer washing away as much of the “victim” role as possible and if that means that I need to pile on a bit more of “perpetrator” so be it.

I’m not going to get into details here because I realize that not everyone reading this really needs to know, nor do they sincerely give a damn about my deviance. I’m also sure that there are at least a handful of readers who only want to be given a laundry list of “dirty deeds” so that they can compare or enjoy the kinky darkness that has been prevalent in my life. I’m not judging those folks either. I’m just not going to spend my time being porn for someone when what I’m aiming to do is be educational or motivational.

What I will say is that, like with drugs, I have a very liberal point of view as to what is healthy and permissible when it comes to sexuality. My rule is simple. As long as everyone involved is old enough to take responsibility for their actions and is in no way forced or threatened into doing what they are engaging in there is no reason to demonize someone for taking part of a sexual adventure. Sincerely, that’s my rule. I don’t always understand why someone would want to engage in certain activities and I don’t think that all involvements that fit into the above category are ultimately wise or without negative consequences, but there is a big difference between regretting something you’ve done and doing something wrong.

So as with my drug use, while I see that I may have introduced a lot of “things” into many people’s lives that doesn’t mean that I have been a criminal or villain. I have spent a lot of my life being confused, being overwhelmed and, quite honestly, being very alone and totally disconnected from my actions. I am not trying to pass blame off onto anything other than my own flaws and faults, but the truth is I do suffer from mental illness which has, at times, given me a cloudy view on which choices that fall into gray sections of life I should or really want to make. These mental issues have never, EVER, made me confused with the black and white elements of those same choices. And I am sincerely over anyone who wants to try to make me feel shame or blame for the life that I’ve lived.

For anyone who doesn’t know me well or who feels that they may have some valid reason to judge me there is only one thing left for me to say to you.

Ask someone who does know me, someone who has spent the time being affected and involved in my life and they will assure you that there has never been a time in my life when I wasn’t doing what made sense considering all of the details. My life has been a constant struggle to figure out just who I am and what my place is. My life has not been perfect, nor have I been innocent on all counts. But I love the people in my life. I love them all. I want to help, to encourage, to entertain, to support in any way I can. That is who I am. And while I have had to grow and learn a lot over the years as to the proper ways to go about all of this, my heart and my intentions have always been pure. With each new test, with each new development, I have become more and more the person I have set out to be.

I will always be willing to admit my fault. I will always be ready to apologize for any ways that I have made someone’s life more confusing or difficult. But I know that I have never forced anyone into anything and I will not accept that kind of blame from anyone because of a confused sense of guilt or their lack of responsibility.

I’m sorry if this seems like some sort of wild, early morning rant. Truth is this topic has been on my mind the last few weeks because I was faced with someone’s judgment of my past actions, actions that took place years before this person was even involved in my life. And I’m having a really hard time being thought of as some kind of enemy or deviant by someone who has many known faults of their own. We all make mistakes, we all have had to grow and accept fault throughout the years. But I will not ask for forgiveness from someone I never did anything against. And I will never apologize for things that I have done in the past that were not only harmless, but equally the responsibility of others involved who seem to have escaped this judgment.

When this situation first became known to me I felt hurt, sad that someone could see what I had done as such a negative thing. But that sadness has turned into anger. Sadness I can handle on my own. But anger is deadly; it kills the spirit and denies growth. I will not allow that to settle in my stomach and slowly kill me.

I am a work in progress and I am slowly breaking bad habits and growing in the right direction. I love myself. And while I hope to be able to break bread with everyone in my “human circle”, I will not sell my soul nor break my heart to do so.

I guess the point of all of this has been simply to let it be known that I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t decided to just let this go. I deserve the same compassion, understanding, patience and respect as everyone else. And if no one else wants to demand it for me, I will stand up for myself.

Quite sincerely,

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