I have always liked to write. I wrote a book of poetry and a book of fiction when I was a teenager. I always have all these thoughts up in my head that drive me crazy at times. I question myself, I over think things. Some where in the world right now, a person is suffering as I have suffered in the past.
I have watched a few little pieces of Black Tar Heroin recently. On one level, it is painful for me. How did I get to that place? How did I survive? On the other hand, I achieved all of the goals I outlined in the film. In 2005, I got my Bachelors degree in Business Administration. In, 2007 I completed a Masters Degree in Public Administration. I have three healthy, drug free children. I did all those things and more. It can be hard going back to that place. However, I see it everyday in the work that I do, the alleys I cross to get to my job.
I came to San Francisco in April of 1992. I really believed I would go home someday. I also believed that the drugs wouldn't get me. Within a few days, I was passed out on heroin, psyche meds, Klonopin. I was slumped at the bottom of a stop sign. Some good Samaritan stopped and asked me if I needed a ride. "where do you live?" they asked. "Ohio" I told them. Well, obviously no one could take me back there. I had $900 in my pocket. I had my college tuition refunded to me so I could get out of Cincinnati. I was devious, she told me. Ungrateful and hostile is more like it. I was staying with a friend here but he had to put me out as did a series of other friends over the years.
Drugs were like a thirst that could not be quenched to me. The more I got, the more I wanted. One day, there is a subtle shift. You are not just "partying". You cannot go back to you regular life. There is no fooling yourself. When you are wiping blood off your arm with you pants ducked between two cars in an alley way, there is no more delusions of grandeur. Everything in your life crystallizes and you are frozen in the moment of complete failure- this is my life. I am an addict. You have to bounce from that moment to your next hit with out flinching. There are crimes of debilitating humiliation to be committed. I must embrace my fate fully with complete acceptance. The rush of question makes you a victim on the street.
There is nothing worse than using with an addict that talks about recovery. Nothing. Shut the fuck up! You are killing my high. I am in the moment. I suffered for this poison. Let me close my eyes. and sleep. Talk about recovery in the morning when I am sick. Tonight let me forget with fuzzy edges and sleep with no dreams.
Why write? Why now. I have a story that someone needs to tell. A collective unconscious memory for all those souls that have passed through the same misery. Some survived- most did not. We existed. We endured. And now we live.