Using in the 1990s was risky. Needle exchanges were rare. HIV/AIDS was killing off IV drug users. We knew nothing about prevention of overdose. Hep C was known as non A, non B. We were giving each other shitty kitchen tattoos and sharing needles because we had no access to new ones. Heroin was expensive and not very potent. The cost of living was fairly cheap. Drug users built little communities. We had "shooting galleries" and dope houses were usually a room you paid $5 to smoke crack in at someones grandma's house.
If I would not run out of veins, maybe I'd still be using. I can't really say for sure. I wanted to stop. I had tried to stop. No place to put my beloved medicine made me despair over my life's choices. The bottom of my feet, my stomach, my tits. I hit in the jugs (jugular) a few times but I had actually had a friend die from an aneurysm from that so I avoided it as much as possible. I was alone in the world. I had isolated myself from everything and everyone I ever cared about. But whatever the reason, I made the choice to try recovery "for real". Luckily for me, it worked out.
I have made lots of friends, lost lots of friends. I have had career highs and emotional bottoms. I am still a work in progress. I just want to say don't give up on yourself. There are folks just like myself, caring humans, who want to see you get better (whatever that means for you). I believe everyone deserve a healthy happy life. I am flawed and I am a work in progress. I am grateful to be your advocate.
XOXO Tracey H 415.
This is me in my booking photo 2/27/1998