traceyh415

Getting things together for my book has really enforced how lucky I am to be alive and off drugs. Readers ask me what the secret is to staying off heroin. I made up my mind in 1998 that I was not going to use no matter what happened to me. I tried methadone twice unsuccessfully, I tried "just smoking pot", I tried switching drugs, I tried moving to a new place. The only thing that worked for me was kicking cold turkey in jail, going to rehab, going into sober living, then remaining totally abstinent. My story and your story may be different. Some people are different from others. I was very sick. I have a sponsor. I have a therapist. I have a program of recovery.  I have been arrested at least 8 times. I've been exposed to HIV, hep c, violence, and mayhem. I am currently sitting on my couch watching kid television with three little kids that love me. I'm in my house that I paid for with money I earned through employment. I have a life beyond anything I could have imag...

"After looking at these pictures Ms. Helton, can you identify the man who you say assaulted you from this lineup." There is that face. He is staring at me as if to dare me to pass him. "This one. This is the man." I slowly breathe out the pain of secrecy and breathe in a cleansing realization of freedom. "Are you sure?!" I could not be any more sure if my life depended on it.  I had accumulated so many belongings. I had a large steamer trunk full of all my treasures. So much more secure than a shopping cart but so heavy. "Here- let me help you." When a horrible thing has happened to you, the human response is to ask yourself why did this happen to me. The second part is to replay what could I have done to make this horrible thing. It was me. If I only would not have let him help me. I never let anyone help me. I was tired and alone.  I have no idea why I went anywhere with him. He said we would be right back. He asked someone to watch my things f...

I am going to be doing another run of black tar heroin shirts to pay for expenses related to getting my book done. If you think you would like to order one, email me at traceyh415@hotmail.com so I can get an idea how many to print. We are doing the TRY AGAIN image.

The reader gave me permission to print her letter. I get many letters like this from people frustrated with the role addiction still plays in their life   Hi Tracey, I suppose it's safe to say that I'm not an addict. Have I done drugs? Yes. Plenty. I think I was up to an 8ball a day of cocaine when I quit using. I had no job, no real friends and I was so skinny I had to tie a rope through my belt loops to keep my pants up. I've always struggled with my weight and the most fucked up part is people were always telling me how GREAT I looked. I don't know how they couldn't see that I was not doing great at all. After about a year of living like this I "woke up" and decided to get my shit together. I quit doing drugs and going out drinking. I moved back in with my parents. I took a job working in housekeeping in a hospital from 8pm-4:30am so that I would be occupied during the hours that seemed to tempt me the most. Even though they've since a...

I got the chance to meet one of my readers that was visiting from Brazil. I get between 25-50 emails a week. Between writing this blog, having a full time job, and raising three little kids, I rarely get a moment to relax. It was really nice to go out  with someone and have an adult conversation. This was the first time in two or three months I did not eat lunch at my desk while attempting to do two or three other tasks at the same time. Yesterday was awesome. I got meet a fantastic person. Thanks for contacting me. 

In many ways, I hate myself. I hate the way I look, the sound of my own voice. I feel stupid, inadequate, and useless. Or at least this was how I felt as a young drug addict. Drugs are supposed to help a person escape into a place where reality mixed with sedation creates a hybrid of a bearable existence. What came out of my experience with crystal meth was that I hated the feelings but using was a snap decision. It creates an illusion that you are not addicted because you are not forced to use on the same timetable as with heroin. Crystal gives you the delusion of mastery over the jones. I do not NEED this, I just WANT it so I am so much better off. A good speed run is known as the Jenny Crank diet- give us a week and we will take off the weight. In the sixteen days, I know I ate food. I'm sure my mouth was full of sores from dehydration and every bite was a labored effort to get the dry bits of nourishment past my aching teeth that I had been grinding for days. At one point, I re...

I correspond with people I meet through my blog and my you tube videos. I was contacted last year by a mother. Her son was coming off methadone. She wanted to know more about the disease of addiction.  I am printing this email because I want people to realize that addiction kills people. Death. Overdose. Infections. Addicts need help. I do my best I can to provide encouragement. I am glad to help you readers.  We also need treatment, compassion, and narcan/naloxone. Get help before it is too late. Use with a friend. Do something. Hi Tracey- My son didn't make it. 1yr using, 5yrs methadone. He tapered off, in my opinion too quickly, then used- after drinks with friends (non-users) Killing him - three days dead on the floor I found him. I thought he was doing great! I kept asking him "are you ok? Are you sure?" He always said he was fine. What I was clueless to was how hard it was to come off methadone. I hate myself for not knowing enough about this insidious ...

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, ...

I need some new pictures readers and some new guest posts. Send me some! I can not pay you but I will put your stuff up where it will get exposure to 150-200 daily readers. Contact me traceyh415@hotmail.com

The track marks are covered with new skin. I ate this morning. I used the bathroom inside. I slept with a blanket and it did not have body lice. A rat did not jump on me. My abcesses are healed, sealed, and secret. Now, my scars are on the inside.  You are so very perfect compared to me. You would never do the things I did for drugs. Have you ever washed the dope man's dishes for a hit? Have you cried with watery eyes and heavy legs for anyone to get you well? Have you sold your soul, your body, your life to escape down the hatch into a soft nod? How can you understand how very hard I really am? All my scars are on the inside.  The world could not break me. I am stronger. I am wiser. I am resilient and I am free of shame. You can not hurt me because I am already healed- all my scars are on my insides. 

Recovery provides me with freedom. Many times, that freedom is overwhelming to me. When you are drugs, the majority of your decisions are based on impulse. In a split second, I'm loaded or in a relationship or breaking your shit or crying in my hands. When I am using, I only have to be accountable to the connection. They only care about my money, not my guilt or shame.  How am I supposed to live in this world? How am I supposed to manage my emotions? Within a few days of getting off opiates, it becomes apparent that choices are not my strong suit. In the program they told me to "support" people. Of course I did not tell when people had crack in the program. I'm not a snitch. Of course I didn't tell when people were having sex in the program. Of course I threatening to beat my roommate's ass for not doing my chore. I never made good choices so I kept not making them.  Then I was released into society. I needed money. Should I sell drugs? I hung out with dealers...

I am on vacation with my friends. Because I go completely insane when any mind or mood altering chemical enters my body, I have to plan for my self. First of all, I don't use no matter what is happening around me. Second of all, I make sure everyone around me knows I do not drink. I don't tell everyone I am in recovery. I just make sure the two or three people closest to me are their for support. Finally, I have a plan. I grab a bottle of water. If something bothers me, I call or text people. Or I tell the people I am with about my feelings. Usually I try to have cab fare or my own way home. I just am clear with myself- YOU may drink, smoke weed or whatever but not me. I can have a great time substance free. Thanks friends.

You got off drugs! Yeah! Now what?! Ugh! This is where the work begins. Welcome to the other side where finding a vein, scoring, or hustling enough money to stay well are not on the daily agenda.  Agenda items for today: 1. Don't use 2. Don't use 3. Don't fucking use Hello stubborn addict?! Are you getting it now?! Your priority in the beginning has to involve putting distance between you and that substance. Getting off drugs is just the first step to rehabbing your whole life.  Let us take a look at reality. If you have used for one or more years, all your friends are junkies. You are probably broke or damn near close to it. Your dick is broken or it least it was while you were strung out on dope. Now you may or may not have an erection that won't go down. For the ladies, you might be feeling some unfamiliar stirrings too but your last two boyfriends could not fuck so you gave up on sex. Having a period- do not be surprised if it returns after a few weeks of eating foo...

I am exaggerating a little. I did not go STRAIGHT to the Tenderloin. I had to eat first! I had to walk over to the Haight Ashbury district. I was told if I went to the beginning of Golden Gate Park, I could find someone who could help me navigate the dope scene in SF. I was also told to stop and get a burrito first. This may have been a mistake as it ended up on the floor of the muni bus later in the day. I remember the puke sloshing back and forth under my feet while I was falling over in my seat.  After a tall can of beer or 40oz, I felt prepared to take on my mission- find drugs. When a junkie rolls into a new city, they like to do some footwork to save time. We look at maps. We talk to cab drivers. Before the Internet, we would sniff around by greyhound stations. A sure shot in any large city if you need dope is to find the methadone clinic. I was young and naive. I had to go by word of mouth and luck.  I found a dirty young punk with a Mohawk. Yes. Help me. I need the Chi...

Arriving off the Greyhound from Cincinnati on April 6th 1992, I had stars in my eyes. I had no real choice. I had to get out of town. In the days prior to my departure, a person had mistakenly believed that I had stolen $2,240 from their sock while they were passed out in my apartment on Cisco. Cisco is a cheap wine in the same vein as Thunderbird or Mad Dog 20/20. it was also known as "liquid crack". This person had owed that money to a loan shark. When they awoke to find that their money was gone, they held me hostage with a pair of rusty scissors. They told me "Bitch, I am not going to kill you. I am going to put your eyes out so you can live the rest of your life like that." I learned a valuable lesson that day. I did not take their money nor did I steal things from people in my career as an addict. By the time the morning rolled around, he quickly realized I was not the person. It had been another person who had been sleeping in my old apartment. When he finall...

I have no story for today. I thought I would speak from my heart. I was up crying last night. Why you may ask? I was crying for a few reasons. I get between 25-50 emails a week. These emails are from addicts around the world. Some are from people who have been in recovery. These people want to reflect on their experience. Some emails are from people who have never used drugs. Many of them thank me for making "Black Tar Heroin". The movie is the reason many people decided to never try opiates. Finally, the last category of emails are from active users. These emails bring me to a place of overwhelming sadness.  I have not used drug in fifteen years. That is a fact. Yet I can easily recall the feeling of being strung out and desperate to have hope. The feeling readers describe of questioning "will I ever stop using?!" Strangely, it is so easy for me to remember that place where only the pain remains and desperation was my only friend.  I answer all my emails. I text an...

I will state for the record that I am incredibly grateful that a confidential informant told on me. This was the reason I was arrested, which lead to me going to treatment.  The last few months of my addiction were completely insane even by my standards. For whatever reason, the people who had been supplying me my drugs decided it was time for me to start selling them. This idea almost killed me. The fantasy of every user is to have a bottomless supply of drugs. I think there are two kinds of addicts: drug hogs and maintenance users. I was a maintenance user. I never did more than I thought I could handle at one time. I also never used more than what I thought I could hustle up in one day. I liked my drugs. I also liked being alive to use them. I have seen many addicts get pissed when they are revived from an overdose -"why didn't you let me go? It was my time!" Okay, you selfish bitch. Next time, I will let you die. See what happens. Not only will I go to prison for ...

Dear readers- I like to have guest posts from all perspectives. Some of you are into 12 step, some are not. Realize the feelings and the desperation are all the same. Love Tracey  THE DEPTH OF MY INSANITY  Step Two: Came to believe a Power greater than myself  could restore me to sanity.  The first time I sought help from a 12 Step program I became acquainted with Step 2. My first reaction was that it did not apply to me. Being a devout atheist I had no reason to succumb to this concept of weakness. Also, I was clearly NOT insane.  Up until this time I had defined Insanity in much the same manner that I’m sure most of us do. By my own definition: which I had come to with my own personal experience with the mentally ill. You know, the folks on the bus talking to  themselves .  Clearly I was not of this lot.   Like most Drunks I had come to the realization that my drinking was a real problem.  I had transcended recreational drinking. I had arri...

"I think you are beautiful". I slowly try to chew my food. My mouth is so dry. Why does he want to take me to eat fish and chips. Everyone walking by the window will see me with this guy. It is hot outside. The bricks and concrete are baking in the sun. I am not starving, I am just thin and I hate French fries.  "Really?!" I ask. "What is so beautiful about me?" I never should have done a half gram before I left the room. This was a WEIGHED half gram, not a street half gram which was usually short and full of cut. My eyes feel so heavy. The edges of the world are fuzzy right now. I hear him talking but I am somewhere else. I am somewhere and I am nowhere at the same moment. It feels like I am sliding down this bench. The date had to shake me and wake me up. I was so sexually enticing passed out on the sidewalk- he had to have me.  "Maybe I should get you something to drink? A coke." A coke. I need some coke. Or some speed. Something. I'm drea...

I would not describe myself as a person who was an actual prostitute. When I think of prostitutes, I think of the ladies of the evening flagging down cars to make their living by any means necessary. Prostitution is not the world's oldest profession as many have been brainwashed to believe. Farming is the world's oldest profession. Prostitution was created out of need and survival. You have something I want, I have something you need right this minute. Turning a trick is part sex, part power struggle. It is not always unpleasant but it is dangerous at every level. As an opportunist addict, I was willing to do dates if the price was right or if I was desperate. I turned many men away over time. I was young and pretty enough to be selective to a certain degree. I had my own rules and I stuck with them for the most part. I never went out at night. I got money upfront. I would never, ever spent the night or agree to go to an apartment at night. I knew three or four girls who were r...

I'm having a particularly bad day with my veins in my feet so I thought I would capture it for you. The damage from shooting in my feet has progressed into what is in the pictures

Black Tar Heroin, also known as Chiva, is primarily a West Coast of the US poison with pockets of poison distributed along the South and dotted along the map. It smells like vinegar, the acid used in the process and breaks down into a sea of cut in a cooker including coffee, corn starch, baby laxative, and occasional actual tar used for roofing materials. You must, must, must use a cotton at all times or you will end up with a nasty skin infection known as an abcess. I was known as the " abcess queen" for having up to four abcesses at a time, thirty two in my life. I was always in too much of a hurry from dope sickness to use safe injection precautions . The main offender was tainted water. Instead of clean water, I've used grape crush, vodka, gutter water, and water off the hood of a car in the rain to mix with the dope. I paid the price with infections. Many of those I drained myself with a sterile needle, gauze pads, and saline solution. If I was going to be my doc...

Some time this week, I will pass 30,000 page views. I started this blog in late January as an online journal. I never suspected anyone would actually READ it with the exception of a few friends. Over the course of the past six months, I have developed relationships with many of you readers. I am blessed with the opportunity to inspire or educate a global audience on addiction issues.  Honestly, I have not done much work on my book for a month or so. I have been pouring my energy here. I know some of my posts are being used in treatment facilities (rehab) and others are being printed out by addicts as daily reflections.  The writing process is painful to me at times. Writing involves opening myself up and accepting criticism which I detest because it stifles my process. I'm going to have to find some resolution for this to push on with my book.  I am going out of town for three days next week on vacation. If you are interested in guest posting, let me know. As always, than...

What is it like being a homeless drug addict? I would wake up at 4:30 or 5:00am if i even went to sleep. I would wake up in some alleyway covered in a blanket. The moist San francisco breeze would blow in. Im shivering under the blanket, luckily I am alone. I have on two pairs of pants so no one can get in them and rape me while I nod off. I have on three shirts. One is for a bra, a tight sports top. One is a long sleeve layer with a finger hole cut our of the sleeve so I can use it as gloves. Finally I have on a hoodie or tshirt to seal in the warmth. Today, I have a small wake up. This requires me pulling both pair of pants down to my knees while I am still warm enough that the veins are up. I can sit behind teis shopping cart and dig for at least twenty minutes before anyone will really notice. I am camped with two other people. One has been up on speed for four days and finally crashed. He won't wake up even when the street cleaning truck comes six inches from his h...

I have loved many people in my life. No love has been as unique as the relationship I have had with my dog Sadie. I would say "our dog" but really she is my dog. She was rescued from a crack house in New Orleans shortly before the hurricane. She lived there with her sister Polly, a sweet dog with a homemade crop job on her tail. I'm sure the dogs must have sighed in relief after being removed from squalor only to tremble in fear during the hurricane.  Sadie is a survivor. She was airlifted out of the City by a rescue group and sent to a rescue in the Bay Area. Sadie quickly became my emotional support animal within days of moving in. At first we joked about naming her matches or Brillo which are tools used to smoke crack. She was scared of her own shadow. She also came with a case of mange that was so bad, she had to be treated with medicine designed for cattle.  Sadie was there through many study sessions as I plugged my way through college and graduate school. She laid ...

I talk a lot about my self, my kids, my opinions on things but I rarely speak on my role as a wife. My husband and I have been together through thirteen years of highs and lows. I do not assume I am the perfect wife by any stretch of the imagination. I am stubborn, I keep my feelings bottled up inside me. I like to help other people which frequently turns my attention away from home. I also have my own "unique" way of looking at things. In other words, I like to think I am right most of the time. When my husband and I met, it was through a mutual friend. We had many of the same interests but there was also some barriers. We were friends. One day I got that fateful phone call- I did I want to go out to the movies? The rest is history. I did not want to fall in love because I was afraid my judgement on the subject was so flawed, it would lead to despair. My husband is a wonderful person. I got that right from the start. The rest of the relationship is work.  Relationshi...

Today was a sweet moment in time. I went to see my daughter's kindergarten graduation. I have worked very, very hard to transition from a scandalous dope fiend to a person of merit. I saw the results today. My daughter is one of the lights of my life. When I saw her sweet smile on the stage today, I realized that she is in this recovery with me. As I get better, the lives of others around me improves as well. I *almost* did not take the time off work. I am so glad I made time for things that are important in her life and my life. I am present.  As a huge cosmic joke, the PTA voted me as the school treasurer for next year. Today was the second time they have handed me an envelope with thousands of dollars in uncounted checks and cash. I am a convicted felon, model citizen.  We all have that duality. The desire to do good, the ability to participate in things that are not in our best interest. Today, I am choosing the good. I got my eye on you. 

Sometimes I need to learn to cut my losses and move on. There are things I can not fix. There are situations I cannot change with love. There are people who by no fault of their own, are not compatible with me or my recovery. It is hard for me to let things go. I feel like a failure some how when something is not working in my life. I want to fix it, control it, manipulate the outcomes to make something work for me. When I have expectations, I am always left disappointed in the end.  What are the things in your life that are taking up too much of your energy and time? What would it feel like to let go of those things? I only have so much time and energy. My love is endless but my time is limited. It is time to adjust my priorities. 

Many people ask me what it was like to be a young drug addict in San Francisco. It is important to realize that I came to SF in April of 1992 when people were dying daily from AIDS. I think that clean needles and drug education are some how taken for granted now. For a young addicted with limited options, a used syringe was a frequent companion. We had to clean our needles with bleach, if you were willing to take the time. Many were not. I also personally have had the experience of accidentally laying bleach on the dope thinking it was water then shooting it anyway because I was that dope sick. I lived in the Ambassador Hotel in 93-94. At the time, it was a place that rented weekly rooms and doubled as housing for people with HIV and Aids. I've seen people smoking crack in a diaper in their hospital bed. I've seen people use with enormous open wounds. I've seen people get their rooms emptied out while they lay there dying only to survive. Horrors beyond the imagination....

Let us all take one week to focus on the positive thing in our lives . I have been stewing in some negativity recently due to my own fears around getting older. I woke up today with a fresh perspective. I am challenging myself to live in solution for one full week. Instead of focusing on the negative, what if I focused on the positive as much as possible?! My tea is hot. I LOVE hot tea. My hair looks good today. a simple bit of happiness.  My clothes are clean. My kids actually listened to me this morning. I got LOTS of hugs and kisses. My chair is pretty comfortable. I texted with a friend today who I love- a girl friend because I need some in my life. I did not use today. I am not even having a CRAVING  to use. How remarkable is that? I need to appreciate it because tomorrow might be a different story. Live in the now.  I MIGHT even save a life today. I've done it before. We can all work miracles if we do not use today. I am letting the past steal from my ...

When did it happen? When was the day when you realized you no longer were experimenting with drugs- the drugs required your daily attention. We all like to feel we have self-determination, that we are able to make our own choices of our own free will. Yet, over time, it happens. There is a familiar feeling. I need to use. I want to use, yes, really though I need to use to manage my physical being.  Other drugs are more subtle. Cocaine tells us "I don't really use coke. Do you have some?" We might see speed or MDMA as some type of adventure trip. Opiates on the other hand make addiction and it's physical dependence very clear to me. It's starts with the dream that ends, a runny nose, a twitchy legs and huge pupils. It says "Bitch, get up." Heroin was the only pimp I ever had-  that drug had me working 24/7.  My addiction may be different but the suffering is all the same. The only difference between me and many others is I drove that car until the wheels ...

I'm not a hero. I'm not a role model. I'm an addict who is clean. I'm a friend to some. I'm a mother. I have tons of imperfections. The best thing I ever did was stop using drugs in 1998. I used drugs hard. I exhausted all idea that I could use successfully and moved on. This blog is both cathartic and difficult in that it puts my self esteem under a microscope. In some ways I'm screaming "love me" (fuck you very much to a friend who pointed this out). In other ways, I really really really want to help everyone. So there is the truth. I'm no hero. I'm just like you. I'm clean today. You can be too. Let's do this together