Letter and emails oh my!. I get so many emails, I call the my junkiemail. More surprising, is when I run into people I used drugs with that are still alive and out in San Francisco. First of all, most of them are surprised by my overall health displayed by my chunky figure and smile. I am kind of a grumpy person but I make a daily attempt to smile at homeless people. I say hello to them. I answer their questions when I have a minute. I respond in a kind manner that acknowledges their existence. I see myself in their faces.
Surprisingly enough, I remember being out of the streets. The cardboard boxes houses, the coldness of the sidewalk stay with me. I remember being so afraid of sleeping outside. Many nights I would take speed or sit up staring at the streetlights. People leaving their jobs or the bar or their apartments would stroll pass me ignoring my very presence. Looking at me mean that in some way your soul needed to ponder the fact that people like me existed in your world. I was so close yet so far away. I would spend hours at a time packing and unpacking my belonging. I also spent hours changing my clothes. What would be the perfect outfit to sleep in misery. I had to be able to access my veins, pee outside and still maintain the appearance of barely being female.
I am much rounder now. I am softer around the middle. It is hard to believe that anyone would love me enough to marry me but this weekend, we are making an early celebration of the anniversary of the event. In my addiction, I never allowed anyone to take care of me. In my recovery, I had open enough to let someone love me. Then slowly, over time, I realized that love is not about not getting hurt. I was used to dopesick love that turns at the whim of a substance. Now I am learning that life is more than a series of random painful experiences. life is the memories I make when I seize this moment.