Tag Archives: up

These Walls by Teddy Geiger

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We all have those days when we are feeling hopeless and confused. When the world seems to be falling around us. But we have to remember that we are not alone. We don’t need to fear, we need to have faith. Faith in ourselves that we can overcome any difficulties. After all, we’ve seen it done before.

Lyrics:

I can’t believe what is in front of me
The water’s rising up to my knees
And I can’t figure out
How the hell I wound up here
Everything seemed okay when I started out the other day
Then the rain came pouring down
And now I’m drowning in my fears
And as I watch the setting sun
I wonder if I’m the only one

[Chorus:]
‘Cause everybody tries to put some love on the line
And everybody feels a broken heart sometimes
And even when I’m scared I have to try to fly
Sometimes I fall
But I’ve seen it done before
I got to step outside these walls

I’ve got no master plan to help me out
Or make me stand up for
All the things that I really want
You had me to afraid to ask
And as I look ahead of me
Cry and pray for sanity

[Chorus]

These walls can’t be my haven
These walls can’t keep me safe here
Now i guess I’ve got to let them down

[Chorus]

I got to break out…
I got to break out…
I got to step outside these walls
There’s love outside these walls
I’ve felt my heart break
But its a brand new day
And I’m not going down
‘Cause I’m stepping out
I’m stepping outside
These walls

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Sober by Pink

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The social aspect of drug use plays a big role in a lot of our experiences. Many of us no the feeling of being the only one THIS drunk/high. The one that was known to not only be at the party but BE the party. It all seems like fun until we crash. Until it gets bad. Pink does a great job describing what life is like as that kind of alcoholic/addict. Watch the video and be sure to read along with the lyrics.

Lyrics:

I don’t wanna be the girl who laughs the loudest
Or the girl who never wants to be alone
I don’t wanna be that call at four o’clock in the mornin’
‘Cause I’m the only one you know in the world that won’t be home

Ah, the sun is blindin’
I stayed up again
Oh, I am findin’
That that’s not the way I want my story to end

I’m safe up high, nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party’s over?
No pain inside, you’re my protection
But how do I feel this good sober?

I don’t wanna be the girl that has to fill the silence
The quiet scares me ’cause it screams the truth
Please don’t tell me that we had that conversation
‘Cause I won’t remember, save your breath ’cause what’s the use?

Ah, the night is callin’
And it whispers to me softly, “Come and play”
I, I am fallin’
And if I let myself go I’m the only one to blame

I’m safe up high, nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party’s over?
No pain inside, you’re like perfection
But how do I feel this good sober?

Comin’ down, comin’ down, coming down
Spinnin’ ’round, spinnin’ ’round, spinnin’ ’round
I’m lookin’ for myself, sober
x2

When it’s good then it’s good, it’s so good till it goes bad
Till you’re trying to find the you that you once had
I have heard myself cry, “Never again”
Broken down in agony, just tryin’ find a friend

I’m safe up high, nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party’s over?
No pain inside, you’re like perfection
But how do I feel this good sober?
How do I feel this good sober??
x2

Keep it Up by Blackbird Blackbird

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Here’s a sweet mellow song from Blackbird Blackbird for you to listen to. With a beautiful melody and mesmerizing beat you’ll be reminded to “keep it up:” your spirit, your attitude and your recovery.

Gotta Cheer Up by Cotton Jones

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We know that we create our reality and can chose to be happy within every moment of our lives. Of course, that can be an incredibly hard emotion to maintain but if we can just think to “cheer up now” in the times we feel ourselves getting down, maybe we can create a more positive outlook for the rest of our day!

Lyrics:

All the colors of your heart
All the whistle in the park
Children swimming through the spark
I was hooding around, in a sea of sound

All the trumpets play whoa whoa

I got to cheer up now
Gotta cheer up now (repeats)
All night I want morning light (repeats)

Must Read: Junky by William Burroughs

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“This is an incredible book, no matter how ‘outdated’ it may be. Written about a man, Burroughs, in the 1950’s who is struggling with a growing addiction to junk (aka heroin). Its fascinating to read about how addiction was in an era way past our own; to see the differences, the similarities and the history of the never endearing struggle with substance abuse. The review below from TheDailyBeast.com sums it all rather well, enjoy!” -Robyn

Junky by William S Burroughs

In 1953, while Joseph McCarthy was hunting for communists in the highest ranks of the federal government, an Arkansan congressman named Ezekiel C. Gathings was conducting his own witch hunt. His target was the paperback-book industry. He argued that pulp fiction had “largely degenerated into media for the dissemination of appeals to sensuality, immorality, filth, perversion, and degeneracy.” Of particular interest to Gathings were novels about drug abusers, a class of American society nearly as reviled as communists. At the time, as Allen Ginsberg later wrote, there was a sense “that if you talked about ‘tea’ (much less Junk) on the bus or subway, you might be arrested—even if you were only discussing a change in the law.” The publication of a pulp novel named Junkie: Confessions of an Unredeemed Drug Addict, by the pseudonymous William Lee, was therefore a welcome surprise. It sold 100,000 copies in its first six months. American readers wanted what “Lee” was pushing.

Lee was William S. Burroughs, Harvard graduate and heir to the Burroughs Adding Machine fortune. Burroughs’s inheritance left the young scion free to pursue education and drugs at his leisure. He first took up anthropology, at both Harvard and later Mexico City College; then medicine, in Vienna; and finally heroin. Heroin stuck. Junky—as his novel is now known—combines all these interests. Unlike Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 (also published in 1953), Junky eschews allegory for scrupulous realism. The approach is journalistic, pedagogical, often clinical, bearing little resemblance to novels for which Burroughs is now better remembered, like Naked Lunch and Nova Express. Although Bill, Junky’s narrator, mentions reading Oscar Wilde, Anatole France, Baudelaire, and Gide as a young boy, the tone owes more to Franz Boas and Margaret Mead. Junky is Bill’s life story, but only in a sense, for he discusses only the parts of his life that relate to junk. The story follows the development of his addiction, his attempts to quit, and his travels in search of cheaper, better drugs. Along the way we meet a largely interchangeable cast of dealers, users, thieves, and con artists. More than anything else, Junky reads like a field guide to the American underworld.

“Junk,” we learn, refers to opium and its derivatives: morphine, heroin, pantopon, Dilaudid, codeine. But it is much more than that. Junk, he says, “is a way of life.” And it’s an expensive one at that. A heroin addiction in 1953 cost about $15 a day, or the equivalent of $125 in today’s dollars. Junkies have their own look (emaciated, haunted, sallow) and their own junk names: Doolie, Cash, and Dupré. Junk has its own dialect. A user who robs drunks on the subway to support his habit is a “lush-worker”; a junkie’s eyedropper, spoon, and hypodermic needle constitute his “works”; doctors are “croakers.” The easiest way to convince a croaker to write a “script” for morphine is to fake gallstones or kidney stones. If those excuses fail, try facial neuralgia.

Heroin addiction takes patience and dedication. Burroughs estimates that you need a year and several hundred injections to develop a habit. An addict does not use heroin to get a thrill—never does Bill experience joy from heroin. A junkie uses only to avoid junk sickness, otherwise known as withdrawal. Junk sickness is like a hangover mixed with burning alive and a parasitic infestation: “I felt a cold burn over the whole surface of my body as though the skin was one solid hive. It seemed like ants were crawling under the skin.” There is also vomiting, diarrhea, violent sneezing fits, loss of breath, lowering of blood pressure, and extreme weakness. Bill feels a sensation like “subsiding into a pile of bones.” This condition might conceivably be manageable were it to last for 12 or 24 hours. But junk sickness tends to last 8 days.

There are cures for addiction, but they tend not to last. Not because the cures are ineffective; they are effective, particularly the incremental “Chinese cure,” which Bill uses, a gradual weaning that involves replacing the drug with increasing doses of Wampole’s Tonic. Bill stays sober for many months at a time. But he always returns to the junk—out of boredom.

Here lies the novel’s core perversity. The main reason the junkie does heroin, despite its horrors and despair, is because it’s better than the alternative: not doing heroin. It is better to be a junkie than to end up what Burroughs might have been, had he followed in his family’s line. The life of an “American business man,” he writes, “is a one-way process. When his organism reaches maturity it can only start dying.”

A junkie, on the other hand, exists in a state of constant physical emergency. With every hit, a junkie dies; as the drug’s effects dissipate, he is reborn. “Junk,” writes Burroughs at last, in the cleanest expression of the novel’s thesis, “is an inoculation of death.” It is total negation. “Perhaps the intense discomfort of withdrawal is the transition … from a painless, sexless, timeless state back to sex and pain and time, from death back to life.” The junkie knows life because he has an intimate knowledge of death. That is another way of saying that the junkie, unlike our “American business man,” knows himself.

But Burroughs is after something more than self-realization. Junky is not, after all, a memoir, a fact underscored by his cursory treatment of even the most basic biographical information. Bill’s wife, oddly, is introduced for the first time—and even then only in passing, by another character—more than halfway through the novel. His children are mentioned once, 50 pages later, in a single mysterious sentence: “My wife was in Acapulco with the children.” Junk leaves no room for family, jobs, or relationships other than those organized around the procurement and enjoyment of junk.

Near the end of the novel Bill moves to Mexico. He has plans to flee even farther away, deep into South America. The expat junkies he meets during his travels confirm his worst fears about his native country. McCarthy’s paranoia has infected America, which has entered “a state of complete chaos where you never know who is who or where you stand.” The junkie is grateful for his junk. At least he will always know exactly where he stands—even if he doesn’t know where he’ll end up.

Keep Looking Up by Landon Pigg

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This song is mellow, I sway to the beat as I imagine he is speaking to me through my higher power. Letting me know that he/she/it will always be here for me, no matter where I am. I just have to keep looking up and having faith.
In recovery, having faith in not only ourselves but something greater than ourselves is so important. We clearly cannot control our lives, otherwise we would’ve never hit that famous ‘rock bottom’. We have to give thi to our higher power now, stop feeling hopeless and let them take care of us for once.

Lyrics:

Like a little locket hangs
Round your little neck so closely to your heart
So shall I be forever
I know you’re going somewhere new
And I know it’s never gonna to feel like home to you
But this time the only way around is through

So keep looking up, on past the birds
And keep looking up past the clouds
And when you reach up and clear away the stars
I will be there where you are

Like a little locket hangs
Round your little neck so closely to your heart
So shall I be forever
And even if you run away
Put on all your dark clothes, hide in shadows
Just remember one thing

Keep looking up, on past the birds
And keep looking up past the clouds
And when you reach up and clear away the stars
I will be there where you are

I will be there where you are
I will be there

Keep looking up, on past the birds
And keep looking up past the clouds
And when you reach up and clear away the stars
I will be there where you are

Keep looking up, on past the birds
And keep looking up past the clouds
And when you reach up and clear away the stars
I will be there where you are

So closely to your heart

Brave by Sara Bareilles

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This is an inspiring and useful song when your feeling fear take over. Sara is a passionate singer and songwriter, writing about being who you are meant to be and saying what you want to say no matter how terrifying things may seem.

Lyrics:

You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug
You can be the outcast
Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love
Or you can start speaking up
Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do
When they settle ‘neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you x3
I wanna see you be brave

Everybody’s been there,
Everybody’s been stared down by the enemy
Fallen for the fear
And done some disappearing,
Bow down to the mighty
Don’t run, stop holding your tongue
Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

And since your history of silence
Won’t do you any good,
Did you think it would?
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don’t you tell them the truth?

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you x3
I wanna see you be brave

Wake Me Up by Avicii

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I may not be an incredibly huge fan of this genre of music but I have to give Avicii credit for producing a great song. The lyrics are inspiring, it reminds me that everything passes and life is an open book. We don’t know the future but we know where we are now. The amazing thing is, we won’t be in this place for long. Time will pass and we will grow, there is nothing we can’t accomplish if we set our mind to it.

Lyrics:

Feeling my way through the darkness
Guided by a beating heart
I can’t tell where the journey will end
But I know where to start

They tell me I’m too young to understand
They say I’m caught up in a dream
Well life will pass me by if I don’t open up my eyes
Well that’s fine by me

[2x]
So wake me up when it’s all over
When I’m wiser and I’m older
All this time I was finding myself
And I didn’t know I was lost

I tried carrying the weight of the world
But I only have two hands
Hope I get the chance to travel the world
But I don’t have any plans

Wish that I could stay forever this young
Not afraid to close my eyes
Life’s a game made for everyone
And love is the prize

[2x]
So wake me up when it’s all over
When I’m wiser and I’m older
All this time I was finding myself
And I didn’t know I was lost

Didn’t know I was lost
I didn’t know I was lost
I didn’t know I was lost
I didn’t know (didn’t know, didn’t know)

Take Seven

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She remembers a time when her phone was so heavy. When she could find any excuse not to pick it up. But something about today was different. Something couldn’t keep her hands off her phone. She went down a long list of all the girls she met in rehab. Only about a quarter of them picked up but every conversation was worth it. Talking to some of them for almost an hour. Reminiscing, complaining, and expressing so much gratitude for their sober lives. So much happiness to hear from her again and know how well she was doing.

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In rehab, she had been something of a teachers pet. She sped through the steps one through three thoroughly. Constantly asking questions and seeking advise from the other girls and counselors. She kept everything neat and pristine in a large three inch binder. It was so packed after a few days that she could hardly get it to open. She didn’t care and all the girls found her so amusing.

When she first arrived she was in a daze. Having just came out of the psych ward for a week, she wasn’t sure what she was getting into. All she cared about was the fact that she was out of her house. She was going stir crazy. Knowing not to talk to any of the people she got high with in college, she tried contacting her old friend from high school. Lets call her Sunny.

Relying on Sunny was such a fail, such a disappointment. Sunny was afraid of her now. Everything she had vented to her about her experience in psychosis and her admitting to her addiction had just caused Sunny to push her further away. Its like she changed. Everything was different. She no longer accepted her. Sometimes she wonders how things got this way. We once promised we would always be there for each other, no matter what. We were going to be friends for life. But what good is it if she choses to ignore me? I am sick of all the excuses. We had a month to see each other… She seemed to be so apologetic when I called her in rehab…

I really needed you Sunny! Why didn’t you see that? You were the first person I called when I got back from India and I really could have used your support.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what was going on.”

“You could tell something was wrong though…”

“But I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t understand what you had went through! I guess I just thought you would be a bad influence on me…”

“Really?… I was trying to get better. I was seeking your help and your support. I just really need your support. Can you promise me that you’ll always be here for me? When I get out, can we see each other and really talk?”

“Of course! I’m so sorry, I just had no idea. I’ll be here for you.”

Lies. All lies. She should have known better. She should have seen this coming. It had been so long since they had talked. Even while she was in India she couldn’t get a hold of her. Sunny was surely going through her own shit but is that an excuse to leave a friend behind? That was the last kind of person she wanted to be. She had been a poor friend before to quite a lot of people. She had dismissed them and left them with nothing but sour words all for the sake of her independence.

She always had a hard time keeping friends. Making them was easy, it was listening to the same stories, committing to emotions, understanding the expression of feelings and dealing with the neediness. She couldn’t handle all the responsibility. She could never give them what they gave to her. She knew that. At least thats what she thought back then. Several years later she has a different approach. Finally grasping the importance of friendship, she’s changed her views and made it somewhat of a goal to be a better friend. She started with picking up the phone. And she’ll never forget the support and love she received in those minutes that turned into an hour, but will last the whole day.

Never Give Up by Robin Thicke

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This is a cheerful song, beautifully composed with all kinds of orchestral instruments paired with Robins great voice and inspiring lyrics. Check it out!

Lyrics:

Lost your job,
lost your mind
living on the street
for the second time
all you do is dream
another new tonight
I see blue skies in front of me

(Chorus:)

baby, never give up
don’t stop now,
it’s never too much
never give up
never give up
hold on babe
never give up

lost your heart
lost your will
on your hands and knees
just for a dollar bill
lost your faith
and your confidence
it never seems fair
nothing make sense

(Chorus)

feel like a joke
I feel like a fool
I should have smarten up
I should have stayed in school
what I’m gonna do?
how am I gonna get by?
I ain’t got no whistle
but I can’t stop trying

(Chorus)