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Alex Blitzen

Binge

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Alex Blitzen

You can find me at the bottom of a bottle

Feel the guilt and shame

Only me to blame

One empty bottle to kill the pain

Hopefully it doesn't make me insane

Two empty bottles to escape this hell

I know that it's not making me well

Three empty bottles to soothe my soul

Starting to really take its toll

Four empty bottles to make me pass out

Sick of living my life in doubt

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    • Tori M
      {teary-eyed} BEAUTIFUL, Willow, just beautiful.  Thanks for sharing!
    • JustineM
      WOW!  This is so beautiful and heart wrenching.  Thank you Willow, it really speaks to me.
    • Emily michelle
      Wow Willow that story is so true I had tears welling up thank you for sharing that!
    • Shay
      phew... because my NP is starting me on the low dose two a day under the tongue and instead of spiro she is prescribing the one that starts with an F (can't remember name but is supposed to help stop male balding and I have a few spots toward the back of my head and kind of thinning on top).... I hope to hear that all the records are in place and my pharmacy calls today to start...I can't tell you how anxious I am - I verified my doctor got the clearance to transfer my records and I took another blood draw last Thursday to base line thoseitems they don't check for males... can't wait....   THANK YOU TORI for letting me know if the pharmaciest tells me they don't melt.... 🙃
    • Tori M
      Ohhh... ouch!!  I'm with the lady news anchor... let's put those guys in heels and we can all have a big laugh!  Ok, have to admit, that triple ankle wiggle before the second fall is just amazing.  I think I might have just given up and stayed down, lol.  Or, if she'd ripped off the shoes and thrown them down the runway, that would have been hilarious!
    • Tori M
      So, if you think pharmacists know everything about drugs, think again.....  When I picked up my E prescription, of course the pharmacist is required to have a quick consult on new medications.  She read the label which said, "Dissolve under tongue twice daily".  She got a funny look and said, "These pills don't dissolve."  "Are you sure," I asked?  "The endo said she wanted me to use sublingual E.  I've talked to others who say they are taking a sublingual pill."  She looked on the computer and then restated, "No, these don't dissolve.  I don't know of any estrogen pills that dissolve.  You can try it but I think it would take a long time to dissolve that way."  We were already having a challenge with insurance who only wanted to pay for one pill per day, not two lower doses, so I left feeling a bit frustrated and thinking they must not make the dissolve-able tablets any more or else my pharmacy doesn't carry them, so I guess I'm going to have to ask the endo for patches (which I don't like because they can irritate my skin).  Well, I tried the first one under my tongue and it vanished in less than 1 minute!  So much for experts, lol.
    • Shay
      You do what feels good to you - after all your opinion is the most important anyway 👍👍
    • Tori M
      I like boat neck tops, or at least a deep V.  All of that bare skin is definitely a distraction.  My boobs are wide-spaced so I've bought bras appropriate and comfortable with that but I guess I should try something that gives me a little cleavage and just deal with the odd feeling.  Can you tell I prefer comfort over looks? LOL  Now, if I lived in some place that had summers (there I go again! lol), I would just live in shorts, sandals and tank tops.
    • Tori M
      That's excellent, Patti, thanks for sharing it!  I've never liked the phrase "coming out"... indeed, when I tell someone it feels much more like "letting them in".
    • Shay
      I just remembered another song that my producer mentioned to me - he had a relationship with this lady and when I heard her version of IMAGINE I was floored - she re-invented it and made it her own and it makes me cry to this very day and I haven't even started HRT yet... gosh I probably won't be able to stop once I do start.    
    • Shay
      love the wonderful opening sequencce is Smooth Operator  
    • Tori M
      Kudos on finding yourself at such a young age.  I don't know that the doubt ever goes away, but after 17 years of being out, in, now out again, it has shrunken to a minimal, occasional thing.  Personally, I've only watched/read a couple of regret stories and they were confirmation to me that "that's not me".  I don't believe our influences/decisions should come from external sources.  I've long focused on listening to my internal thoughts and feelings.  I like your exercise of writing in both genders.  Keep doing that and eventually it might start leaning one way or the other, or not, and that's ok too.  I've never had the experience of feeling like a man, but I think at age 16 feeling partly both would be normal.  Yea, I think the current isolation has everyone feeling disoriented.  Our brains are wired to receive feedback from others and without that, it's no wonder we feel a little lost right now.  I would not calculate this bewildering social situation into my finding of myself. "...Super old"... That's cute. {giggle} 😉  I'm 54.  Welcome to TP, btw!  I hope we can be of some help in your journey.   Tori
    • Shay
    • Shay
      good discussion - I learned a lot, I used an eyebrow pencil to darken the contour above my tiny breasts and rubbed in to accentuate the little I have and that helps draw the eye away from my Ichobod Crane Adam's Apple... 🙂
    • Willow
      A Story of a life not lived   When I was a little boy I stumbled upon this strange playground. It was desolate but for one small girl, who was sitting in a swing with her head held down. She had such a sad disposition. I had never met her before but somehow I knew her. I walked over to her and sat in the swing next to hers. I asked, "What is your name?" "Natilie," she replied in a quiet and solemn voice, not even lifting her head to look at me. I inquired, "What are you doing here all alone?" With the same monotone whisper, she answered, "Waiting . . . ." "Waiting for what?" I said. "To come out and play," she murmured. Just then, I heard my mother calling me. "I have to go, my mother is calling me home," I explained. With those words I left her sitting there. I did not think about Natilie for some time and had almost forgot about her as the years rolled by and I got busy with my friends and with grade school. Then, one day I remembered the playground and I went back there, in some ways hoping she was not there and in other ways that she was. As I approached the location of our first encounter, I saw the same figure parked in the same swing with the same saddened countenance, but she was not a little girl anymore. She had grown up somewhat. I was almost afraid to approach her but something drew me to sit next to her. "It's me again," I blurted. I was not sure what she would say. "Would she be angry," I wondered, seeing that I had stayed away so long. "Would she be happy to see me," I asked myself. She lifted her head up and looked into my eyes and with a clearer voice she asked, "Is it time? Is it time to come out and play?" Before I even had a chance to contemplate her words, I found my mouth surprisingly uttering the words, "No." "I have friends and school and my parents expect things of me," I explained-- "You just can't." I left in a hurry, hoping by some means that I would not see her again. Time passed. I was full of youthful energy and vision, given over to the prescribed role ordained for me, coerced into believing that this path would bring me happiness in life. Junior high, high school, college, a great job, a wife, a house, and then a son. Natilie seemed but a distant memory, though  I did on rare occasion walk by that desolate playground, but never went in. Then it happened on one quiet evening while I was rocking my newborn son to sleep. I heard this quiet sob. It was Natilie but how and why now? Another year passed. I only heard that soft cry a few other times, and I continued to ignore it. But, during one of my evening strolls I happened upon that desolate playground without intent. "Huh?" I muttered to myself. "How did I get here?" That soft sob had now became a much louder cry. Out of human compassion, I sought out Natilie in the dim light and found her in that same swing. Her head was still facing the ground with tears rolling off of her cheeks. She was no longer a girl but had become a full grown woman. "Why are you crying?" I asked her with concern. She had not responded promptly nor did it seem that she even acknowledged my presence. Before I had a chance to repeat my question, she looked up at me and her expression turned into anger. "How long?!" she barked. I was taken back by her sudden shift in disposition and nearly fell off my swing. "Why are you so angry with me?" I snapped back, not minding her words. She continued. "How long will keep stealing my life? " "Your life?" I remarked with protest, "This is my life." I was not too happy about the tone of this encounter and got up from my swing to leave in a huff. But, before I had a chance to stand on my feet, she said in a very solemn tone of voice, "Before you leave me here again, let me ask you one last question . . Are you happy?" With that she turned her face toward the ground, blocking me out of sight. "Happy?" I could not stop thinking about this simple question. "No, I have not been happy." I thought that I was happy. I should be happy. After all, I have everything that anyone would want in life -- an education, a great job, family and friends, a wife, a house, and now a newborn son. I should be on the top of the world, but alas I still felt empty inside. I could not stop thinking about Natilie, seeing her in the corner of my eye, in the dim reflection of a store window, and hearing her quiet sob in the distance. I became obsessed with Natilie. All the years of avoiding her, trying to forgot about her, rationalizing her existence, pushing her away, and for what? I could no longer fight her. She had a right to live the life that was taken from her. I knew what I had to do if I ever wanted to be happy. I had a calm in my heart that night on the evening that I eagerly sought out the desolate playground, where Natilie sat for so many years on that same swing. But, as I approached the dimly lit area where her swing usually hung, she was not there. "Am I too late?" I thought in a panic. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around with a sudden jolt, I was greeted by a standing figure. It was Natilie and she had a smile on her face. "Is it time?" she asked. "Is it time for me to `come out and play'?" Looking into her eyes, I responded with a smile on my face and in a gentle voice, "Yes, it's time."     This is the story of my life.  This may not be the best Forum but its where my friends are.  I wrote this for all of us.   Willow
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