Coming clean

Back when I drank and drugged my hot ass into oblivion, waking up covered in a dirty film of "how could you?" was a typical afternoon occurrence. My denial and narcissism was a brilliant excuse for such hideous behavior. The constant lying. All the cheating. Even stealing from my own family members to get high.Shame, shame, how could you?When all you've been is a royal class fuck up, it's easy to fall back on the title when you do actually fuck up - again. But when does the revolving door of "how could you?" finally kick your ass out in the real world of "I know better"?When do we [addicts] stop using our disease as a crutch and start using it as a tool? To respect our struggles and learn from our behaviors, not use them as excuses. What a concept.As I've said in my interview with KirstyTV, "I'm such a work in progress, I should have orange cones for earrings." Adorable, right? It would be if it weren't so true.In the past few weeks, I've come to learn that not only am I a work in progress, sometimes I make such colossal errors in judgment that only a stick of dynamite could make things right. But wiping the slate clean with my most recent fuck up would be the healthy thing to do. Sure, owning my truth sounds like a plan, but there's an awful lot of shame buried under there. So instead of doing the right thing, I ignored the gnawing pit in my gut and allowed my "how could you" to perform grandiose claims of absurdities.It wasn't until a friend called me out that I realized - the only way to make this better, is to own the fact that I'm the one whose making things worse. Even if my friend would have never said a thing - I knew this sick, familiar feeling wasn't going to disappear on its own. I'd have to be the one to break this shit down in order to rebuild my self-respect.So, without further adieu, I'm here to light this mofo and come clean.I recently had the opportunity of a lifetime in that a major publisher was interested in reading some pages of my book. After months of edits and rewrites (with the help of a tireless, selfless dear friend in the biz), I submitted my work. After receiving the rejection letter, I sunk into a vast darkness of self-doubt and regret.Why didn't I stay true to my voice ? Why couldn't I have just gotten out of my own way? How the hell could you ruin this opportunity? And on and on.One of the reasons noted in the Pièce de réjecion letter was that I didn't have a large enough platform, which is another way of saying "you're not a Real Housewife, TMZ doesn't follow your ass, and Wikipedia has never heard of you."The same day I realized I was this "nobody" in the world of publishing, I received an email offering up miraculous marketing ideas and promises of fame and adoration. Part of this marketing scheme was building one's platform in social media; an 'If you build it, they will come' approach. For less than a hundred bucks (and as a birthday present from mom) my social media status would go from "nobody" to "she's the one to watch." But was this ethical? Was this the thing now with artists trying to be seen?After speaking with friends and reading some articles about the pros and cons of this new marketing maneuver, I relented. With the click of a mouse I did something that no one talks about but so many people do: I purchased Twitter followers.As soon as I made this choice, I knew it was a mistake. After years of proving my word with my friends and family, here I was, faking an audience. But like so many missteps in life, we can't un-do the things we regret.Life has a way of serving you lessons that only become fully realized when wrapped with a bow of shame.But even when we're called out, it takes a bigger person to come clean. I wasn't that person a few weeks ago when publicly backed into a corner on Twitter; in fact, I was enraged by the very accusations (that I purchased Twitter followers) which were thrown in my face. It didn't matter this person nailed my error in judgment - but it was MY mistake, and the fact that I didn't have a choice to process this and come clean on my own was the thing that threw me over the edge.So in that very ugly Twitter-war-high-school-bullshit-banter way, things were said and although I deeply regret playing my part and the way I handled things - what stings the most is how I disappointed the people I love, who had my back.You'd think I'd be pissed off at my Twitter nemesis for coming at me and calling me names (which, I still think was a dick move). But like most of the ugly shit we're faced with, there's always some lovely goodness buried within. I'm not a victim, just as this person isn't an on-line bully.Within the next few weeks, I'm sure my purchased spam-bots will fall off, and my "Followers" number will steadily decline. But as this goes down, my self-esteem will keep a steady climb in the right direction. Even a handful of real followers is better than thousands of fake ones, purchased only to inflate my sinking ego.I'm still processing the shame of my choices but all I can do is keep trying to be a better person than I was yesterday - which includes being a better friend, staying on a healthy path, and wiping up the shit I make when my choices hit the fan.Besides, tomorrow is a new day. We're almost in a new year, which will be filled with many delightful fuck ups I'll make, I'm sure.