To judge- to form an opinion of someone or something after careful thought.

With that definition it doesn't sound that bad to judge. But that's not how I judge. Sure, I sometimes put careful thought into whether I let a person into my life. Mosty, I judge people on first impression. Before you open your mouth I have my opinion set. While wildly unfair, I agree, it's the truth. I judge you on your hair, your clothes, you're inability to speak the English language, your color identity problem. How about instead of stealing peoples identity, you steal their color indentity ? That would make for a great movie. But back to my problem with judging perfect strangers. Actually, no, I've made myself out to be an asshole already. How about what people can judge me about ? Poor hygiene, sure. I can be very condescending. I belittle you if your favorite movie of all time is Road Trip or any other lame movie. I mean, come on haven't you seen Buffalo 66, Gummo or Dog Day Afternoon? AND you like One Direction ? Do you have a brain OR a soul ?

But who am I to judge ? I like professional wrestling, the Ernest movies and Weird Al Yankovic.

I like lame movies too-

TODAY, JULY 31, 2014. I, KYLE RADUSKI, ADMIT..I LIKED THE NOTEBOOK.

Wheww, I feel so much better.

The purpose of this post was to show that while I currently judge the shit out of people, I have no room to. I don't like to be judged so why do I do it. A wise, beautiful and talented women ( my mom ) once told me, treat others like you'd like to be treated. In case you don't know, I'm a mommas boy.

I know I have to work on this and I honestly do everyday. Not the mommas boy part, the judging thing. I feel that if I don't work on something everyday then I will soon loose what I so desperately need. Sobriety.

MORE TO COME OF MY STRUGGLES WITH ADDICTION AND LIFE

Here is the post I thought I deleted. Turns out I'm just not good with Smart phones. Since I wrote most of this before my last post, I kinda Tarantino'd it.

I realized that the only thing I've been writing on has been where I was in my addiction. I'd like to write about where I am today in my recovery, and also how my addiction has manifested itself in other ways.

Recovery has a lot to offer. I have learned to accept myself for who I am, my character defects and all, while trying to accept others for who they are. I found it's a lot easier to accept myself than others. When I accept myself I learn to understand my actions and take a look at why I do what I do. I don't always like the answer I get, but I always get an answer.

I have gained so many strong relationships through the program. People who understand me at the deepest level. They know my fears and my struggles because they are either going  through it too or have already gone through it. How can a friend outside the program understand me seeing a leaf on the ground and wanting to use over it ? Sounds ridiculous but believe me, its happened.

I think the most important thing I've gained in the past 2 years would have to be my relationship with my Higher Power. I have gained strength through Him like you wouldn't believe, like I wouldn't have believed 2 years ago. I pray every morning and every night, and whenever I need to during the day. I heard a good line in a meeting once, 'I don't care if there's a God or not, but believing in one works for me'. That made perfect sense to me, because I over think everything. But I do have proof today of a Higher Power and I will write about that another time. I think should dedicate a post for that only. (Which was posted before this, hence the Tarantino'd comment)

Now, for my where my addiction is at now. Like any addict I have no control over the 'how much is too much' part of my brain, I go to too many meetings, or no meetings, I call my sponsor everyday, or not for 2 weeks, I work on steps everyday or never. Why can't I find that balance. I finally started working again and I spend all my time working or sleeping. Then it comes to relationships, oh the need for approval by the opposite sex, from the same sex too I suppose. I've been getting better with that because my 'approval rate' has risen since being clean. I found something out recently. No one likes a dirty, lying drug addict. But people do like the honest, sometimes too honest, still dirty, clean addict. To dig deeper into the opposite sex approval, I have this problem. The problem is I don't know when women are flirting or just being nice. Its made many awkward moments for me in life. And ultimately ended a lot of friendships that I took as being more. I've been told to not read into things too much or quit being neurotic. But I guess that's just me. I suppose one day I'll find a woman as awkward as me, but I'll probably find her unattractive because of her odd ways. The struggle for happiness is real, people!

MORE TO COME OF MY STRUGGLES WITH ADDICTION AND LIFE

Lets try this again. I wrote something earlier but deleted it somehow. I wrote about what recovery has blessed me with, instead of what addiction has cursed me with. So I'm going to take the most important thing out of the deleted post and write on that. My Higher Power, which I choose to call God. "Which I choose to call God." When I used to hear people say that it would piss me off. I'd think to myself, 'You condescending asshole, you think you're so much better because you found your Higher Power?' Well, now I'm apparently that condescending asshole. At one point I wanted to call my Higher Power Frank or Demtri. I was so desperately holding onto my individuality that defined me. I wasn't like you, I'll never be like you, so get use to it. Then something happened to me over and over again, I relapsed. Maybe, just maybe I am like you. Exactly like you,, even down to my need for being apart from the rest. I understand now that I can have my own views and twisted sense of humor and still be like the 70 year old man who has 50 years clean, or the 19 year old with 2 days clean. We are both fighting for our lives.

My Higher Power has shown Himself many times in my life. Whether it's showing me I'm not unique or showing me to help out others in need no matter how much I dislike them. And I really dislike people at times, mostly 75% of the people in my life. Maybe not that high, but I don't like a lot of people.

Here are two very special events that have taken place since being in recovery.

1. While staying in a recovery home in downtown Rockford, I prayed before leaving the house to go to the gas station for cigarettes. I was in the stage of my spirituality where I didn't know who I was praying to or if there was even a God. I prayed, 'God, if you are real, give me a sign, any sign.' Now, to make you understand the weather at the time, it was winter in the Midwest, so yea, it was snowing pretty bad. I start my walk and about halfway there, snow covering every inch of the ground I find a Bible, untouched of snow. I pick the book up and think, 'thats weird'. I'm not a Christian by any means, but maybe at some point in my life that will become an option for me. I don't rule any possibility out anymore. Either way, thats a crazy sign. I figure if there is one God and that's the Christianity God, then Hes made His presence known.

2. This one is unbelievable, well not really, but here goes. February 9, 2014 I woke up on a church pew at a warming shelter. I was dope sick and just plain sick of life. While I am using I have no relationship with my Higher Power, none at all. But this morning I prayed to God to either help me get through this or kill me today, I can't go on like this. I walk from that church to downtown Rockford, making a stop to get dope of coarse. It had to be about 10 degrees that morning. I made my way downtown in clothes that haven't been washed in weeks, and a backpack of dirty socks and underwear. When I finally made my way downtown I found myself a bus transfer and took a bus to a detox center. I walked in and told them my situation and begged for help. They advised me my chances weren't too high. They had appointments for the open beds and on top of that it was winter. People come to get off the streets and get food. So they gave me a ham sandwich and a Sierra Mist and I waited. Eventually, a staff member came in and said they had opened a bed for me. AND they did my laundry for me! Thank God because I was smelling pretty shitty.

I remember thinking I wasn't going to get many more chances like this so I better make this count. However my disease didn't stop there, I had planned on leaving a few days in because I was feeling better. I didn't act through on it, but I thought about it often.

Higher Power, you have saved my life over and over again. I can never thank you enough.

MORE TO COME OF MY STRUGGLES EITH ADDICTION AND LIFE

So I was rummaging through my wallet and I came across this piece of paper. I wrote this on December 12, 2013. Little did I know at the time I would be kicked out of the homeless shelter I was occupying 5 hours later, and the start of my "street days" as I call them began. I titled this, 'My Secrets' Secrets'

I met this city by walking it's streets. It gets cold at night when you have nowhere to go. Nowhere to go leads to nowhere good. Dirty needles surround my feet, while the only halfway clean one is in my arm. How did this polite young boy who was raised to be a gentleman get this low in the world, this deep ? When the sun rises in the morning but all you see is darkness, have you sunk too low ? Am I too low ? The snow flickers in the street lights as my vision statics out like an old television set. Am I overdosing or do I just need to sit down ? Lately, I cant tell the difference. Sometimes I get so tired that I pray for an overdose just so I can close my eyes and rest. Something has to give. Something has to change. A house to live in for 6 days is not a home because it had a welcome mat. The mat read 'Home Sweet Home'  but I read it, 'You Have No Home'. If these clothes could talk, they'd tell my darkest secrets. That I'm alone. That I'm scared. That I don't know who to turn to. Good thing these clothes have holes and my secrets have all fallen out. I have so many secrets, my secrets have secrets. So don't tell me I can't keep a secret.

I wrote that on a crumpled up piece of paper that I found in a basement I was squatting in. I thank my Higher Power on a daily basis for not living that way anymore. Through my pain and suffering I am able to help others today find hope. If this drug addict can do it, so can anyone.

MORE TO COME OF MY STRUGGLES WITH ADDICTION AND LIFE

This next part takes place around February 13, 2013

Once again, I awoke in a strange place unsure where I am, how I got there or even who these people were crammed into this small two bedroom house. They all seem to know me, maybe not by name but they aren't all wondering who I am. Something I became too familiar with over the years has happened again. Waking up with no memory of what happened in the past few days. But did that scare me ? Make me rethink the current direction of life ? Nope. Maybe, at some dark, secret spot in my mind it frustrated me. Being in the grips of addiction at this time for 13 years, I was welcoming a successful overdose. Something to free me. Something to ultimately free my family.

So I did what I learned to do best after attempting to reconstruct the past couple days. I got high. Even if I didn't have to play detective, I would have gotten high anyways. When I think about why I would use after having time clean, two things come to mind. 1) I stopped ( or never started ) working a program, which means I never had any of the miracles of recovery take place in my life. 2) Simply, I wanted to get high. For most addicts, after using for so long, drugs don't get you high. They got me completely, sobering normal. I didn't nod, I didn't itch. I did get mad seeing others that way, but once physically addicted, I was using because I wanted to be normal. I too like to eat and sleep.

Speaking of sleeping. I turned down crack cocaine the first, eh, maybe 5 times it was offered. Oh, wait wait, back up. That mysterious house I woke up at, that was a crack house. Now, you can probably imagine a crack house. Dirt on the floor, month old dishes in the sink, nothing but molded bread and dried up peanut butter in the fridge. So, I politely declined the offer of crack and went about my heroiny ways, because I'm not going to smoke crack, are kidding me ? And be like you drug addicts ? I don't want to live like your living. Even though I was living like that. Then one day, I decided to try it, how bad can it be ? In all honesty, I thought it would be a lot for intense. And I really didn't care for it. But that doesn't mean I spent the next year smoking crack and shooting heroin everyday. Oh, wait, yea it does. Then I was introduced to a lovely cocktail called a speedball. Which for me, that means heroin and crack in the same syringe. I don't know what caused me to try it the first time. But I found my new love. From the time I started smoking/shooting crack and shooting dope all day, it took less than one year for me to be living on the streets of Rockford, in the coldest winter of my life.

MORE TO COME ABOUT MY STRUGGLES WITH ADDICTION AND LIFE

This next part took place in late August 2012.

When I woke up in an elementary school playground, by a security guard who informed me this was the second morning in a row waking me, I was a bit confused because I've never seen this man in my life. The next thing I remember was eating some sort of mexican dish out of a Styrofoam container. If the newspaper on the table was correct, I had lost about 5-6 days. Thats not to say I wasn't active in those days, I just have no memory of them. I was once again in those oh so comfortable scrubs. That's not sarcasm, they are extremely comfortable. I met a girl wearing the same comfortable scrubs whose name was, lets say Kelly. Because that was her actual name. Kelly, I believe was the one who mentioned somehing about the ambulance.  I thought maybe she had me confused with someone because I haven't been in an ambulance in over a year. Then it hit me, like when someone to mentions something about a pit bull and that triggers a thought that MAYBE you had a dream last night about a pit bull but you don't remember any details. Yea, that happened.

Fast foward the next 2 weeks of sitting in a detox center. Then, the next month of in-patient. ( It never hit me until writting that last sentence the amount of time I've spent recuperating from drugs and alcohol in those comfortable scrubs )

I believe when I successfully left treatment that time it was either late September or late October. The reason I say successfully left is because I have successfully completed some sort of drug treatment numerous times, I just counted atleast 13 successful discharges. ( Between detox, in-patient, out-patient or continuing care ) And I'm still as fucked up as ever. The only difference today is that I know I'm fuckef up and I'm accepting myself.  Back to the story. I moved into a new recovery home. I liked it a lot because I had freedom. I could have women over. I could stay out until 11:30-12:00 every night and there was hardly any supervision. No wonder I used again. Give an addict all those things in early recovery and see how many make it. But I didn't relapse on heroin or alcohol at first. I relapsed on OTC cough medicine. And then acid. My disease starting talking to me in all types of ways. "Come on, your drops wonwon't show cough syrup or LSD. And they didn't show up, but I wasn't satisfied with those type of drugs, and I didn't want to full out use again, yet. So, why not start taking benzos again ? Oh, another blackout ? Oh, I started using heoin again ? Funny how that works.

The night was February 9, 2013. I left the house to go hang out with a friend and go get get high. I talked to my girlfriend at the time and told her I was going to bed, or some other lie. All day I've been chewing benzos like Big League Chew, minus the monster bubble blowing ability Big League Chew gives you. So it's safe to say I won't remember the next few days. Well, to make a relatively short story even shorter, I got kicked out the next day. It was February 10, 2013. My grandmas birthday. My dads birthday. And the start of the worst 365 ( EXACTLY ) days of my life. I soon welcomed crack cocaine to my rigorous diet of heroin, benzos and cigarettes.


MORE TO COME OF MY STRUGGLES WITH ADDICTION AND LIFE

So this is my first time writting down any of my thoughts and making them public. I still don't know how this will go but I will soon find out.

For the past 14 years of my life I have struggled with major drug addiction and at times, alcohol dependency. I started using to fit in, I guess, like a lot of experimenting teens. Although, I soon realized it wasn't me experimenting anymore. It was me addicted to precription pain medication.  I remember one of the first times I tried an opiate. Everything was just...BETTER! I was funnier, cooler, more attractive ( that's debatable) and the most important thing, I felt like I fit in. Looking back though, I noticed that I wasn't really "fitting in" because most of my friends at that time didnt use, maybe they smoked weed, once.

But for me fitting in with others meant feeling comfortable in my own skin, which I still struggle with today. It's like I'm an extra large body in a medium size skin. Not so easy to do. But the more important thought to analyze is why don't I feel comfortable in my own skin ? Was it my childhood ? Normal by any means in todays world. Parents divorced at a young age. Raised by a single parent until my step-father came into the picture. I suppose I might have felt abandoned by my father, then connected with my step father, only for him and my mother to have a child of their own, and that connection was lost again. Either way, I didnt feel accepted.

Then came the teenage years, oh the agnst. I hated everything. School, family, myself, the world, Brett "the hit man" Hart. I mean, come on, I was a Shawn Michaels fan. It seemed like I was on a crash coarse with pain and suffering, brought on by my own actions from an early start. But thats neither here or there.

Like many addicts, at one point in my life I was appearing to live an acceptable life by society's standards. Good job, my own place and a car. But what was really going on ? I was broke all the time. I isolated the 16 hours I wasn't at work. I had a family member pay all my bills so I could get high . Classy, I know. Then on April 19th, 2012 an odd chain of events took place which ultimately landed me in a drug rehabilitation center for the first time. My D.O.C. at that time, heroin.

I recieved a successful discharge and got a hold of my first copy of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous and the Basic Text of Narcotics Anonymous. I wish I could say that that's the end of my journey but I feel I would be shorting you out on some first hand experience of pain and suffering. I did however stay clean for about 3 months, give or take. I didn't actually know the amount of time I had clean because I didn't care. I wanted to show my family I could do it, then go get high. Which I did, thank you!

The blackout lasted for about 2-4 days. Don't ask me, I dont remember. But in that period of time, I was kicked out of the recovery home I was staying at, entered a detox center, left a detox center in an ambulance, disharged from the E.R., lost my wallet, lost my cell phone and then FINALLY made it back to a detox center where I then woke up an extra 2 days later, not knowing what had happened. A social drinker may blackout for an hour or two, but us addicts, we go days! But had I had enough ? Sure, for about 6 months until it all happened again. This time I was staying in another recovery home in Rockford. I was doing good too, I thought. I had a girlfriend who was a liar. (Resentment ? No!) A sponsor I only used when I was doing well and an urge so strong for acceptance by the opposite sex all the hulk-a-maniacs in America couldn't keep it down. I was determined. Determined to make a mess out of my life and blame everyone else for my problems. So what did I do?  I got high of coarse.

MORE TO COME OF MY STRUGGLES WITH ADDICTION AND LIFE.