Thursday, December 6, 2018

Depression, Opioids, and Isolation

It is dark outside. This is the time of year when the darkness swallows me up from all directions.

My friend Korri and I went out to brunch this afternoon. We hadn't really seen each other in a few weeks. I got three pieces of bacon, two eggs sunnyside up, dry wheat toast with smuckers jelly added for sweetness. He got the same combo with a side of pancakes and sausages. His coffee had the typical too much cream and heaps of sugar I try to avoid. I like my coffee like I like my shots of dope- dark. The conversation went from potential Christmas presents for our respective kids, to what we are reading, to debate about whether cordoroy ever went out of style.

As we head down to finish our work related business, I see a flicker on the sidewalk. There is blood dripping down a wrist. I would love to say I saw the details in the man's face but I did not. All I saw was him switching his fluid from one to syringe to another. I imagine him fishing for a vein in this cold weather, waiting for his opportunity to rocket to the fourth dimension. I imagine myself licking off the last bit of my blood. Korri stops me "If I could only just have one". I chuckle to myself. "You just finished off 15 years of just one". He nods in agreement.

We discuss what that one would be like- Him high as fuck discussing how it is almost Christmas time and what will the kids thinks and the instant regret. Yet, we both have trouble focusing on the task at hand. It isn't the guy holding the drink at a party that intrigues me. It's the dude on the sidewalk shooting random drugs in the cold.

We swing by Target to get gift cards for a client event next week. People trust me with money now. It is awesome and scary at the same time. As we get down the street I tell him: "here's the plan. You are going to hit me in the eye. Then I am going to get some kind of police report. We can says these gift cards are stolen and split these 50/50." This makes HIM laugh. "Tracey we are so fucking square now, we would probably spend that $150 on things we need around the house." I'd probably also be pissed if he ACTUALLY hit me.

As we go our in opposite directions, I start to think about what I am going to make for dinner instead of what I can put in my arm. It helps to talk to another person. It helps to spend a little time outside of my bubble of isolation.