i'm a fraud

Or I have multiple personality disorder. or something. all those years I blamed the drugs for my different moods, but it turns out I'm still crazy without them. In fact, more importantly, I'm just a lazier crazy with nothing... now I'm back to a slightly active crazy, fueled by: my vyvanse prescription (which would be fine on its own but...) - doubling up today and adding some kratom and the latest 'research chemical' benzo I sneakily (sneaking from myself that is) ordered in a moment of sober "if this is life I'm not into it" ... and in those moments, all bets are off. Short of shooting heroin (or doing painkillers again, although I'm sad to say if given the opportunity I'd have a hard time saying no) I really haven't come all that far. Sure, I kicked the painkillers - but it's not like I replaced them with a healthy addiction or am doing so much with my life. In fact, arguably, while this life I'm living may be more "real" it's certainly less lucrative/makes me feel like a useless lump. No job, reading books all day, only doing things when I take enough pills... sounds PAINFULLY familiar seeing as I seem to be unable to get off this damn merry go round. The steps are as follows (hey I'm holding myself accountable now! that's a win I guess... even if it is step 1, seemingly again):

1- Panic about being a drug addict: this has changed over the last 12 years in the sense that the illegality and amount have improved. Plus, quitting painkillers therefore not risking death by fentanyl is a win of course, but when all is said and done I still end up using enough that I panic about it and get determined to be totally sober.

2- Get totally sober. This, unsurprisingly, coincides very directly with the dark days. Where the fuck is my pink cloud? I guess there were times in January where I was like "nice look at me go, walking outside sober" ... and last year I forced myself to move before getting vyvanse back (although I was on suboxone, so once again, sober or not!?) – but I'm just saying, there's none of the pink cloud shit. I guess I felt that after rehab... 100 days sober was a great day filled with cake and happiness, but back then I hadn't even addressed the fake adderall (which was probably meth) or the etizolam. I just didn't count them because they didn't feel like they made me high, they just made life survivable a bit past getting out of bed. I'm sensing the theme here: want to get out of bed? Drugs. Which brings me to step 3...

3- Realize that either I'm 'totally fine and can handle a bit of performance enhancing' or so miserable as to preferring to be dead so unwilling to care about the fact I KNOW drugs aren't a long term solution. They're not a solution! But does my brain think they are? hell yes. Why can't I get the same satisfaction from exercising? Clearly I'm not trying hard enough, but it's so damn hard to try at anything but staying alive when the darkness has its grip on my soul.

4- Eventually the drugs lose their luster - they always do, today when I took that 2nd vyvanse I knew I wasn't going to do anything more than simply feel better. At least I stopped lying to myself about being productive (or at least stopped forcing myself to be productive simply bc I've taken something... for better or worse) - and at least I'm writing this. If I can't capture the error of my ways and figure out how to do better by creating my future bestseller, then I am completely misinterpreting all signs from the universe/my intuition/whatever.

5- Back to panic mode: rinse & repeat. I've quit painkillers and adderall for real so I suppose - no, I realize that's progress. Maybe I'm just making it too slowly for my liking... but going on 3 years feels like a long ass time.

My Other Dilemma(s)

I became a modern day sex worker. How so? Only Fans. I honestly can't even believe it myself, but the thought of posting pictures I was posting anyways on instagram and just having people pay for them was too good to pass up when I'm jobless, uninspired, and going broke. I realize I'll someday cringe at the fact I even had an account, no matter how not-raunchy it gets (although I'm scared of how easy it would be to get more and more risky with it as the money flows in), but even more than the money enticed me it was the excitement. The thrill of doing something illicit/bad that would be simple, kinda fun since I take so many lingerie pics anyways, and even be a source of income. Stupid? Absolutely. I am torn between absolutely dying inside at the thought of people finding out while also dying of temptation to just post the link on every social media platform I have and call it a day. Go big or go home? No, because I always come back to the fact I would die of shame if my parents or siblings (mainly brother) ever knew I had one. The idea alone makes me want to throw up and delete it immediately. And yet... I haven't. Partly because I am not throwing away the hundreds I've made that can't be cashed out until next month, partly because in a weird way it's a powerful feeling to get money just for posting pictures. I keep going back to Adam's answer when I asked how he'd feel if he found out his future wife had one... "well I guess it would depend... if she was doing straight up porn I wouldn't like it, but if it was just pictures and she made a ton of money then who am I to say no?" (something like that). Ignoring the fact I supposedly never want to get married anyways (and hate that the older I get the more I realize I'm wrong about that - whoops), putting the link on my dating apps is a step I won't take despite knowing how much money it could bring in, because I know it would brand me as nothing but a one night stand. Maybe my soul mate is different - scratch that, I know that if I have a soul mate he'll laugh about this with me one day, because anything short of that means I'm settling, not in love. Or maybe I'm an idealistic idiot.

In conclusion: I fear I have multiple personalities, I know absolutely nothing, my indecisiveness is at an ALL TIME high, and as usual I have no idea what the hell I'm doing except that it's not 'right' for whatever my hardly able to be articulated goals are (not be fat or poor still feels legitimate. shit.)

OH, and this doesn't even touch the fact that in the 2 weeks of February so far I ALSO spent $4k ... not on a software engineering bootcamp as planned, but on 'pet creator academy' ... because JUST LIKE IN 2015, I fell for a salesman who acted like a friend (I've read sales strategy books, I KNOW what they're doing, and yet I end up pulling out my card and falling for there 'this will be so fun' line every time). This time instead of a magic alkaline water machine I got a long training program on creating 'user generated content' related to pet brands... so free stuff in exchange for creating TikToks & shit (I don't even have a TikTok or any of the other bullshit I heard about in the first meeting I went to for the other poor saps that signed up for this with me) that companies then post on their social media. At least I don't have to post it on my own - creating the only fans feels like enough of a sell-out. In theory, I can make 'thousands of extra side income a month' ... but in theory, a lot of things sound great. My 32 years have taught me they rarely are.

CRAP, after listening to a podcast (dating yourself by lyss) I promised I'd try and be better about manifesting... she was very convincing that positive thoughts and prayers to the universe will only have good outcomes. Alright here's my attempt:

• No one I don't tell about OF (namely my family) will find out, and I'll make lots of money without doing anything more risqué than continuing to post lingerie & bathing suit pics.
• I will crush this pet creator academy, LOVE getting to make videos of the stuff with Maige, deeply enjoy interacting with my team of content creators & the brand partners, and never need to work 9-5 again.
• BONUS: It'll make my 'content' for my future bestseller into actual content instead of the rambling 'trying to make sense of life' it currently is.

... Alright, those 2 bullets sound way better than the rest of my thoughts. Definitely going to sleep on that note. Goodnight future self, here's to manifesting brighter days ahead.