Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Sixteen Days Awake

In the winter of 1992 I completed a 28 day methadone detox. For the first time in six months, I was free of the grip that heroin had held so tightly around my throat. I no longer needed to demean myself and pander to the God of opiates. The God of Opiates is similar to Shivah the destroyer. One is lead to the height of ecstasy, only to be tricked by their own greed and sloth down the path to utter desperation.

Amazingly, the boyfriend that I had loved so much agreed that we probably loved the drugs more than each other. We were no longer bound by our shame to huddle together for some semblance of a normal life. We quickly went our separate ways as if our previous commitment was nothing but a fuzzy memory. 

One thing did remain from my dark period. It was an antique! My seventy year old sugar daddy of sorts was in Alcoholics Anonymous. He funded much of my treatment after I had confessed to him in a fit of clarity that I was strung out on drugs. Not only was he in recovery, he also had no boundaries and was more than willing to help me. I am sure he was hoping to cash in after my detox with some more lively activities of a sexual nature. I can not imagine having sex with me was anything more than nailing a corpse. He had one foot in the grave and I was dead on the inside. Necrophilia defined by the exchange of twenty dollar bills. 

My sugar daddy liked a place to visit me so he was happy to relocate me to another dingy hotel. At the time, I did not realize the Ambassador was part AIDS hospice, part shooting gallery. It was there were I swapped one drug for another.  Crystal Meth, speed, water, whatever you would like to call it. Within the first month of moving to the hotel, I went on a "run" of epic proportions. 

How does one stay up for sixteen days? First of all, some sleeping is involved. A few hours here and there. When I would try to sleep, I might spend hours or even half a day staring at the ceiling "tweaking". My mind would race with hallucinations. With speed, your body is awake but your mind is desperately trying to shut functions down so you can sleep. Most people who do speed enjoy a good day or two of unprotected scabby  sex or  furiously masterbating with toys and pornography. I was not that person. I would think myself into scenarios and torture myself with my own thoughts. I would pick at my eyes thinking my contacts were still in there or tear my things apart. At least opiates provide a respite at some point. Speed was a big fuck you because obsession became the norm. 

To be continued...

1 comment:

  1. You look really pretty and healthy here!

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