A life full of adult responsibilites
I am covered in filth from doing adult duties around my house. I will get in the shower after I get hydrated. My day started at 6:30 am. The kids all got up at the crack of dawn, despite the fact that it is Saturday. I have some kind of cold that was passed along by the little germs boxes known as my children. It felt as if someone hat stuck a red hot poker in my throat when I got up. I could have gone straight to the tv sitter and back in bed but I wanted to make sure they wanted some breakfast. I had totally forgot I had some groceries that still needed to be put away. That started off my "things to do list". Today has been filled with laundry, sorting toys, sweeping, recycling old plastic crap they kids seem to get at any fast food place. I had to clean the bathroom, wash dishes (no dishwasher), cook meals, wash more dishes, sweep again, take out the garbage, and take care of pets.
These things are in a stark contrast to the things I used to do. I needed to be hydrated so I could find a vein. My day started at 5:30 am. I would either already be awake in an alley dopesick or wake up needing a hit. I would drag my ass to the open air drug market to try and make money or sales for a free bag. I would sell syringes, arrange transactions, or go so far as to beg people to "get me well" in between two cars. I would be standing there with my pants down around my ankles searching for a vein in my thighs while parents briskly pulled their children and cover their eyes as they shuttled them off in the rising light of the day. I would start gagging over the smell of coffee and vinegar while my eyes watered. When I jabbed myself just one too many times, I would give up and put that hot bacteria riddled poison straight into my muscle, inviting an infection to join me in my struggles. I would have to perform the same tasks over and over until I got $50-$100 of dope or money over the course of a day. Food and shelter were the at the bottom of my priorities list. The day would end the way it started. With me totally alone somewhere wondering where my life had gone. If I was lucky, I would have just enough drugs that I just didn't care either way.
It was hard to transition into the adult world. Heroin had provided me with a prolonged adolescence of sorts. Emotionally, I found it impossible to connect with someone. The only thing I could really cry over was spilled dope and shitty prospect. From rape, to beatings I received, to every death of a friend that I experienced would get spun around in the drug drain that was my body until my pain was suppressed in the lowest part on my psyche. I was so focused on that next bag. Anything else was impossible to process. It was incongruent with my need to be satiated. So, it had to go. As the days and weeks and months passed, I found myself wondering if I could every feel something like love. It happened. Slowly, incrementally. So slowly I could hardly feel or see the change until one day, my life was full again.
A life full of adult responsibilities.
A life full of hugs from children that vaguely have my features.
A life full of a dull sense of satisfaction.
I may not always be happy but at least I am at peace.
This is a random picture of my lunch from yesterday. So god damned delicious.
These things are in a stark contrast to the things I used to do. I needed to be hydrated so I could find a vein. My day started at 5:30 am. I would either already be awake in an alley dopesick or wake up needing a hit. I would drag my ass to the open air drug market to try and make money or sales for a free bag. I would sell syringes, arrange transactions, or go so far as to beg people to "get me well" in between two cars. I would be standing there with my pants down around my ankles searching for a vein in my thighs while parents briskly pulled their children and cover their eyes as they shuttled them off in the rising light of the day. I would start gagging over the smell of coffee and vinegar while my eyes watered. When I jabbed myself just one too many times, I would give up and put that hot bacteria riddled poison straight into my muscle, inviting an infection to join me in my struggles. I would have to perform the same tasks over and over until I got $50-$100 of dope or money over the course of a day. Food and shelter were the at the bottom of my priorities list. The day would end the way it started. With me totally alone somewhere wondering where my life had gone. If I was lucky, I would have just enough drugs that I just didn't care either way.
It was hard to transition into the adult world. Heroin had provided me with a prolonged adolescence of sorts. Emotionally, I found it impossible to connect with someone. The only thing I could really cry over was spilled dope and shitty prospect. From rape, to beatings I received, to every death of a friend that I experienced would get spun around in the drug drain that was my body until my pain was suppressed in the lowest part on my psyche. I was so focused on that next bag. Anything else was impossible to process. It was incongruent with my need to be satiated. So, it had to go. As the days and weeks and months passed, I found myself wondering if I could every feel something like love. It happened. Slowly, incrementally. So slowly I could hardly feel or see the change until one day, my life was full again.
A life full of adult responsibilities.
A life full of hugs from children that vaguely have my features.
A life full of a dull sense of satisfaction.
I may not always be happy but at least I am at peace.
This is a random picture of my lunch from yesterday. So god damned delicious.
Hi Tracey! I've been reading your blog for over a year now and always get excited by a new post! What is your take on the actual drug dealers? My brother is an addict and he is in an awful mess...he owed the dealers money and paid them off (through my parents) yet they still beat him shitless and took the key to his flat and dealt drugs there whilst trashing it!! I know life must be hard if they out dealing drugs but how heartless are they? Something needs to be done to help these people get proper jobs...not dealing drugs! This is the second time his place has been trashed (both in different locations) and one time they tried to strangle him to death with a trouser belt! Very very lost, heartless individuals...do you not think?
ReplyDeletethe world of drugs is complicated with no easy answers. I agree- somehow we need to foster a society where selling drugs and violence are less likely because we have increase economic opportunity. How that could happen is complicated and would involve some types of decriminalization of drugs. On the other hand, some that type of behavior is beyond the normal addict pandering a few bags. I hope they catch the people that did this to your brother.
DeleteHe knows who it is but he is too scared to go the police! Police probably won't do anything because in their eyes he is just s junkie which is sad! He needs help...can't go on to detox program unless he shows signs that he really wants to quit! Very difficult! Anyway thank you for replying! You give me hope Xxx
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