Ok, Ok. I get it. Grammar, Commas, Spelling. Not really my thing. I do use the spell check but I am quite sure things get through that are grossly incorrect. For those using google translator, my sincerest apologizes as I generally use my own version of Tracey language. If you are reading my blog, thank you. I hope you will allow me a few mistake here and there.
A question came up about my past drug use. I considered myself an equal opportunity drug addict. I started out drinking and smoking pot. I can say from the very beginning, I never drank alcohol for the taste. I hated the taste of alcohol. One of the first time I ever remember drinking was warm Pabst Blue Ribbon my friend and I took from the trunk of my dads car on a hot day. It tasted like I felt afterwards, full and sick. I think the first time I remember getting drunk was at a neighbors wedding. I went around drinking left over drinks, mostly whiskey. I had the most horrible stomach ache but that didn't stop me from trying it again. I liked the numbness it provided me. Plus, My father spent so much time in a stupor, I wondered what the fuss was about.
Drugs fed my curiosity for adventure that way sports does for so called "normal" people. I was always afraid of the experience but I did it anyway. To this day, I have nightmare about relapsing on meth amphetamine. In 1992, I spent 16 days awake with around 3-5 hours of sleep in between. I was fully hallucinating, digging up floor tiles, talking to people that didn't exist. At the end of my run, I had a core group of friend that put me in bed and sold my drugs to pay my rent.
"Where are my drugs?" The first words out of my mouth. "we sold them to pay the rent." Well, who told you to do that- WHERE ARE MY FUCKING DRUGS?!". Ah- the gratitude was overwhelming. Needless to say, the friends left me behind so I could continue my love affair with insanity. A habit is an all encompassing relationship. nothing could come between us.
Today, I fear drugs like I fear a natural disaster. It isn't always in the front of my mind but I know that if it comes into my life, it will take everything from me. I treat my recovery with cautious enthusiasm. Hope is a verb, not a noun. I am sharing that my biggest issues this morning is with commas and spelling and not chaos and dope sickness. Writing this blog has dredged up many buried memories and that is okay. My blog content is based on my eccletic reflections on my life. My life and my writing is valuable because it documents the resilence of the human experience. Sharing hope.