Element Amenities

A weird, evolving website inspired by addiction and recovery. 

Protected: Feels

Protected: Feels

Password Protected

To view this protected post, enter the password below:



Trying to write without smokes. This should be interesting… I quit smoking. My relationship with cigarettes has been long, as well as on and off. I made the decision to quit again because, one, I won’t have the temptation to smoke after a drink, cause that’s not happening again. And two, it’s a coping mechanism that helps me cover up feelings. 

I’ve been thinking about relationships. Good ones, bad ones. Real vs Fake. Is it worth it if it’s not real? I mean, real relationships have intense experiences. My cat is intense, she screams every day at the top of her lungs for no reason. I know her, like the back of my hand. She’s a pain in my ass but she is worth putting up with. That is probably not the best example but it’s accurate. I love my siamese because she is intense and smart and also doesn’t take bullshit off any other human, or cat. (I really am a crazy cat lady) she puts up with mine, just like I put up with hers. 

I said in a tweet, that I’m not afraid of shit. I’m really not. It’s not that I’m a glutton for punishment, it’s about not being afraid in life. That has become really important to me. Sure, it’s tough and complicated but what happens if it actually works? What happens if it’s the best life? I would rather have an intense tough relationship that is real than some surface relationship that is one-sided, or self-serving for myself or the other person.  Being honest with myself is real, it used to hurt. Not anymore. Now it feels empowering. Now it doesn’t suck. Now it feels like I have shed my skin and kept walking, walking into the person who I really am. I’ve lost some friends along the way, I’ve lost some face, and the best part… I.ve lost some bullshit ideas I used to have. About who I am supposed to be in other people’s eyes. I actually don’t give a fuck. I really don’t. And if I don’t forgive myself, who will? I don’t want to be the person who never forgives myself, If I don’t, how will I ever stay sober? Regrets, I have those. And consequences. Those are the hardest things to live with. Those things, I won’t forget any time soon. I face them every day. 

 I accept that I have done some things that I’m not proud of, and handled some things in the worst way possible.  So what? So has everybody, at one point in their life…anyone who doesn’t admit that they have fucked up bad at one point is a liar. Remember that the next time someone judges you. And everyone has done that. I know that I’m actually a really kind, lovely person who has a very good heart. I have the ability to lift a room’s spirit, I’m creative and smart, and funny. I forgive myself for the stupid shit I’ve done and am walking straight to see who I really am. 

Walking an hour at 2 am in an abandoned part of town, that’s my new thing, it’s like I’m testing myself, trying not to notice the glowing eyes of mist creatures in the huge Douglas furs along the side of the road. Don’t worry my love, I carry a wee knife. You taught me well. I mean that in the best possible way. 



Here we goooooo…. my Brandy stories. I’ve been thinking about it. They are my artistic expression, they may be weird or hot or fucking whatever…its really a story about me for me you know? I was sitting in my hotel room, by myself, looking out the window watching the night creatures come and go in a different town. There are people in the characters, but it’s not a true story. It’s more about me ignoring the actual abuse that happened to me and channeling it into something else, and that came out. I didn’t even think about what I was writing, I maybe read it twice after I posted it. I do that when I write something I know is gonna fucking hurt. I write it not to hurt others, but to clear the stuff that’s stuck in my head, but I also know that the pen is mightier than the sword. Reckless, ahhh new person, same old mistakes. 

My best friend, who isn’t around me now, saved me. He did, he was the only man that I have known who actually realized how fucked up my situation was. He was the one who helped me get out of it. Who do you think was the first person I told? Who was the one who slept on my couch the first night I was back in my house? Because I was terrified and fucked up. Who do you think talked me off the ledge more than once? He stuck up for me so many times. taught me so many things, saved my ass when I was fucking up at the facilities job. Taught me about plumbing and heat pumps and air conditioners. Took the fall for me when the boilers were cooking themselves, was my ears when trades guys were “bla bla bla-ing” about things I didn’t understand. 

He is a gentle and kind teacher. He also loved me and respected me enough to realize how much I needed an emotional, cerebral partner and friend even when I didn’t. He is working on his own things right now and I’m so happy and proud of him for that. I miss him and I love him like crazy. I know how he thinks and we share a brain most of the time. He knows it too… He is tough as nails and stubborn as fuck. Badass and sunshine, that is my tattooed gentleman. I wouldn’t want him any other way. 



Or…or..I think, what about those people in life who force themselves to stay in situations that make them unhappy for the rest of their lives. People, who do what they are told to do make other people happy, or fit into what society thinks is the way to be. White picket fence and all. I know plenty of people who stay in jobs, and relationships because it’s easier than to truly be happy. Naw…not for me. That is a waste of time. You only get one life. I’d rather live it happy than try to fit my square into a round hole.

This webpage will be finished in Dec. I think that’s probably a good thing. New year, no covid, no drama, just peace in my life. No forcing my agenda down anyone’s throat. It was challenging, fun at times, and heartbreaking. I may continue writing in another way, I’m not sure. But I’m gonna stay in my own lane, and quietly disappear.  Except there is nothing quiet about me at all. 😇



My beautiful, brilliant, successful sister came to visit me from the United States. We had such a great time, she took me shopping and spoiled me as usual. She bought my kids gifts, stocked my fridge, and bought linens and kitchen things for the house.  She is three years older than me and is very, very successful. She loves me unconditionally and I love her like that too. 

We walked a lot and talked about getting back on your feet after being unemployed for a year. Yes, I have come to terms with being let go because of my drinking. You know, I denied it for a long time. Blamed my downfall on all the people who surrounded me. But, you know…guzzling wine in the garage at 10 am then going into a meeting and blasting a co-worker isn’t really the way to be successful lol. 

Has my sister cracked the formula for the perfect life at 50? Happy husband, kids, and a beautiful home. Is that the perfect life for me?  I wish I could fit into that mold. I was that kid who read books while walking home from school. Or talked to myself. I would sit in my room and write little stories to myself or write funny little songs for my family. I learned how to fit in at the privileged schools we were sent to. That usually meant stretching myself so far from who I actually was. I played with toys till I was too old, barbies mostly. I would spend hours dressing and redressing them for their big activity. Brushing and styling their hair and occasionally giving them a new look with the kitchen scissors.

Always daydreaming and playing. Did I not grow up fast enough? All I wanted to do was art, in a way. I have decided to go back to cutting hair for a day or two a week. Being sober gives you a whole lot of free time. I want art and creativity back in my life in a different way than this blog is. I want to just be myself. The weird little girl who never brushed her hair, and sang little songs to herself and only fit in if she pretended she was someone else. Except I can’t pretend anymore. I just have to be me.


☕🚬  Dry- Straight up

☕🚬 Dry- Straight up

Some days I want to crawl out of my skin, today is one of those days. Phffffffff. womp, womp. Maybe watching old movies will cheer me up? Or cake. (vodka, vodka, vodka) I feel like this Reliant, cruising along..take a corner too fast and bam- end up on my face. One step forward, a thousand steps back.

I’m feeling a lot more like myself today. Weird how that works for me. I had to do things to reassure myself, I’m going in the right direction. Sunday, (first paragraph) I sulked harrrrrd. All the grey, all the grey goose on my mind. I didn’t walk for the first time in 6 months. I gave myself a day and then I actually got into it. I love the west coast island dreary weather, it kind of matches everyone’s mood. It matches my mood. All heads down and shielding from the rain, and wind. It feels good though, I love marching around town talking to myself, lol. I do, it helps me think. It helps me do the work I need to do to move through. Not just move through it but, try and feel it, actually accept it more than feel it. Maybe not feel it so much? I don’t know.  Or just learn how to live with myself.

I doubt myself all the time. (just stay sober) Today I walked a lot, I got soaked, twice. I did fun things, that I wanted to do. That included treatzza pizza, (just stay sober) ice cream, and cake-ish crust, and test driving a car, (not a Reliant). Hey man, winter is no joke around here.  I haven’t drank vodka in a long time. I switched from vodka to wine when I thought, oh I’ll drink less when I switch. (just remembered my mum’s poison was vodka) Bargained with myself all the time, or justified it somehow. I used to warm up with red, switch to vodka martini for the remainder of the evening, then as my guts couldn’t take it anymore I switched to white, with a whiskey chaser. Not that that is any easier on the gut, but I bargained with myself a lot.

I almost feel like I was manifesting something with my recent obsession with tomato juice. Ewwww, maybe just a little bargain in my tomato juice? (just stay sober).  I’ve since stopped thinking of tomato juice and moved on to a significant vodka obsession, (just stay sober) not gonna do it but. Grey, wet, rainy martinis with a lemon twist…jk mine were always, dry and straight up.