Monday, September 1, 2014

Guest Post- JF from US


For many getting high is a way to escape the shitty problems of everyday life. Everyone has struggles to get through, and the severity of the struggles changes from person to person.  To one person a certain lifestyle is a living hell, like slaving away at a job that never feels rewarding...to someone without a job they may see it as a dream life....to each his own as they say.

Robin Williams's suicide has a big impact on the world, he became the epitomy of tbe phrase "tears of a clown"....he used humor to deal with his inner turmoil, and did it so well that only a few really knew his struggle.  I find myself doing the same thing, and living by the code of "if you dont laugh at it, it will drive you crazy"    and at times my humor is used at the wrong times, but its my coping mechanism....well my second coping mechanism....the first is heroin.   Heroin has this magic ability to make me just not think, it shuts off the voice in my head and allows me to "just live"...and when I cant get it...the baboon on my back throws a fit. I have a single connection, and I admit its probably better that way, If I was coppin on the streets id probably be dead.  See having one dealer is the only thing that limits my usage, we have some distance between us and its usually an hour drive to get to him....at times im thankful he doesnt always come through or cant sell what I want to buy.  3 grams for $50....the expense I always seem to be able to afford. I havent bought clothes in a long time, my fridge right now is pitifully empty, and as you read this Im sittin in my car waiting to cop.  Whats my excuse today?.....had a fucked up day at work and I just want to stop thinking about it and fall into a peaceful nod.  I fear that one day that nod I love so much will be my last, yet I still find myself crawling back into the lair of the beast.   Fidgety and cranky, I sit her and examind my life and wonder what it would be like if I never got high.  I wonder if  I would have gone to college and made something of myself....something to be proud of.  Ive suffered from depression and anxiety for as long a i can remember, it wasnt until the last few years that I decided to see a doctor about it.  Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Major Depression, PTSD, and panic attacks are something ive managed to live this long with..

Im not going to lie and say I havent thought of suicide on multiple occasions, I have. There have been many nights ive sat alone in a dark room with a gun in my hand, trying to find the courage to pull the trigger and end my pain....and each time I have been reminded that while my pain might end, I would only pass it on to those I leave behind...and this is what has kept me alive to this day, that and pure luck. 

At this moment all I can think about is the ritual performed before getting high...we all have one, whether you smoke dope or sboot it, we all know the ritual, and it differs from person to person. I have always been a snorter or smoker when it comes to my drugs. Needles and I never got along...just not my style.  Of course im sure it would be an amazing high, I just never took the big plunge.  Yes Ive been tempted, but after losing two friends to overdose and both were shooters, I managed to never cross that line.  Although I fantasize about the high and always told myself if I really wanted to kill myself, it would be by heroin overdose.....peacefully nodding off to never come back again.  My brother died from an opiate overdose, accidentally mixed the wrong combo of liquor valium and roxy's...he fell asleep and never woke up. No struggle, he just never wake up.  I think we all dream of such a peaceful death....but not all of us are granted it.

Still the thought of getting high consumes me, sitting bere waiting endlessly for a bliss that may never come...hoping I get that call or text thag its "all good"....I wait for that call like the women in my life waited for mine...drugs always took priority and have ruined many parts of my life, yet it remains the first love that few hear me admit too...

Ive gone sober for up to a year, giving up everything...but I always return....its like eating McDonalds, you know you will hate yourself afterwards, but you still do it, and you feel like shit when its gone.....but the temptation of that first bite draws you back.

As I watch time fly, my phone stuck suspended animation, waiting for a call....a call that may never come.  Most of the so called friends I used to used with have all disappeared, either in jail, gone crazy, or just fell off the face of the earth....therefore I am a lone addict, stuck in the suspense of waiting for the green light. Like a sprint waiting at the starting line for the gunshot, ready to take off at any second. As soon as I get the call, id be there in no time. Racing through the streets, on a mission to get to my destination.

Its bad when you start asking non-users if they can help you score....most of the time you use the old excuse "its not for me, its for someone else".....and you believe you are fooling them, but deep inside you both know the truth...its the fiend comin out in the worst way.  Dignity becomes disposable when you are desperate to get high, it gets put on the back burner...for some just for a little while, and for others....for eternity.   I look in the mirror and question why I havent turned around and said "fuck this rat race for dope"......Heroin, its like an evil version of Groundhog day,you wake up and repeat the same shit all over again expecting a different outcome...

I dream of a day where I didnt need a smoke, a snort, or a pill, or a drink to get through the day itself, but the dream fades quickly and is replaced by the neverending story of wanting to get high....the monkey on my bag always gets his way, and we play an evil game of poker with the chips on my shoulder...sometimes im up and feel im winning, and before you know it you have lost it all and sitting there with nothing to show for all the games you played.  Covering up a habit with excuses....Ive had the same "allergy attack" for god knows how many years now, yeah..especially when the coworkers and family notice your endless runny nose and snifflin.  Ive lied to everyone I love and still expect people to be honest with me, its a life of double standards...meanwhile I continue to dream of a life free from my addiction where excuses arent needed. I dont have issues, I have an entire fuckin subscription to this shit that automatically renews its self time after time.  

I look in the mirror again and ask myself "why do I put myself through this?...why dont I just drive home and call it a night?"

But no answer comes and the clock continues to tick....the fear of getting that call as im headed back keeps me paralyzed and waiting...minutes turn to hours, and I know I wont get what I need....3 grams is too much for him to spare, now he can only give me one, because like me.....he also is waiting for a call.  I dont think patience has ever been one of my strong points, which is one of the reasons I fear having kids...that and passing on my fucked up genes and addictive bloodline.  I wonder how I would react if I found out my son was getting high...and I draw a blank.  How could I talk my future son into doing something I cant....quit drugs.

Its all part of this fucked up mess called my life, by no means am I insinuating that I have a worse life than whoever may be reading thing....but this is my story, at least for today

Maybe one day I will have a reason to live besides getting high, maybe the chemical imbalance caused by years of drug abuse will level out and I wont crave the high....I always thought I would just grow out of it, but still I remain hopelessly lost and powerless to this drug.

I pray one day to be free....I dont think today is that day but maybe some form of higher power is the reason for this. Ive thought about trying religion to break free from this....maybe there is a God of some form that can overpower my endless quest.

Alone, walking down this same dark path ive traveled countless time....waiting to find a heaven that isnt weighed on a scale and wrapped in plastic.

Still I remain......#addicted

JF

4 comments:

  1. Very touching story, would love to read more!

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  2. Well written. Wish I had some words of wisdom. I feel your pain

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  3. I am glad u never had to walk behind that carls jr an up the street again to a miserable world of cheeva. I am in recovery an know the L's all to well. Just know u r an inspiration an I show the bth doc to many ppl with tha same addiction to show where it gets to. im going to email u later id like if u could possibly speak at some Na meeting in the peninsula area. have a nice day

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