traceyh415

Here were are- together again. it is me and you. This is how I planned it. That feeeeeeling coming over me. But this whole journey is not what I wanted from a day. I just wanted this feeling. I woke up this morning. That is always a good start to a day. As I open up my eyes, I see the clouds overhead. The orange and yellow beams of light are smearing with the streetlights. My eyes are having trouble adjusting to the colors. I am bolted awake by cramps. Fuck, it is happening again. I am not how the merciful Junkie Jesus allowed me to sleep but now the sick has crawled in with a vengeance. I pull off my scratchy wool blanket. I got his from some minister. They are extremely warm. Unfortunately, body lice also appreciate the fibers and nestle inside waiting for a new host.  I am so fucking sad at my prospects for the morning.I grab some napkin and walk up a few cars. There really is an art to be a female and pissing outside. If the stream is too fast, it will bounce off the concre...

I have had a lot of people contact me privately (and on my blog) because they are concerned about me. My writing is not always about me. It is not always written in the present tense. In the present tense, I am doing very well. Tomorrow is my daughter's birthday. Hard to believe she will be six. She is my little sweetie. My husband and I are planning on taking our first vacation with out the kids for our anniversary/his birthday. My kids are enjoying multiple sports. I am the treasurer of the PTA. I have been taking a month long break from my book. The stress was a little too much. I would rather wait and have it be proofread then tweak elements that try to have all types of things going at the same time. My personal recovery is in a good place. I am saying this mainly because i am going to a meeting tonight. I am still working individually with some folks in all stages of recovery. I do some pro bono counseling work. I also moderate a few online communities and have made many fr...

Today is the day I can't deal with it anymore. Today is the day I can't be nice anymore. I have to focus on my life now. Today is the day. Loving you hurts me. You will destroy me. Mr says he will do one things and cums when he pleases. I am so sick of your face. I can't stand to see you tilt your head as you lie to me again. No no. No no more. Today is the day.  I am taking charge from all your wreckage. Blinking and slinking and hating and skating around you.  Pulling out the screws. Saying goodbye to you. Today is the motherfucking day. 

I need more. More food, more love, more sex, more drugs, more validation. I want someone to hold me and brush the hair out of my face. I want them to tell me everything is going to be okay. Most of all, I want to BELIEVE everything them. FUCK- why did things have to turn out this way? I destroy everything I touch. It is as if I weigh the world down like an anchor around the neck of hope. I try to get out of bed but turn over in disgust. How is today going to be any different than another? I bring my anxiety like a toy in my pocket that falls out at the wrong time revealing that I am a child. I am nervous in you presence. I kissed you and I needed more. I have a purse full of syringes, a briefcase full of straws, and a heart full of holes. Fill me. Feel me. Plug the holes in my memory where love use to be. I want to be next to you. The drugs can't fill the empty space as you withdraw into silence. Your eyes speak volumes. The relationship ends with my bangs and your whimpers. I ...

   Thanks to dopefiendthrowaway

I am still working at completing my book. It is 98% complete. It just needs some restructing and edits. To pruchase, contact me traceyh415@gmail.com

A couple years ago I had a little bit of a habit.  It's something I've struggled with since i acquired my first one way back when. I had come into $30 early in the day, going to breakfast with my mom.  Returning to the apartment where I was crashing with my running partner, I got right on the search.  Just our luck his friend was over and she could get it.  She just had to ride the bus across town and pick it up.  She'd be right back.  I was already getting sick, but this seemed like the best option. Well, as you guessed she was gone ALL FUCKING DAY.  At the dude's house, waiting on him to give her a ride back to us.  She left at maybe  11am  and got back around  6pm , but at least she had our black.  I couple of points of what they were calling the "pure".  It certainly wasn't, but at least my buddy and I got well.  As it turned out her guy was a good friend of my sister, so feeling bad about leaving me and my friend...

I have been writing this blog for a year in January. I have spent a great deal of my time retelling stories from my addiction. Other days, I have provided my opinions on political issues use as access to syringes and the opiate overdose medication naloxone. I give some words of encouragement to lose who might still be struggling with their addiction. I talk about many, many things. I just don't like to talk about myself as a person. Who am I? First of all, I am insecure to the point of being almost brittle. I have always felt as if there must be something wrong with me. This has not changed all that much over time. I care much, much less that I did when I was twenty. I still feel as if I am not worthy or not capable on many occasions. It is easy to say "oh well, everyone feels like this." My sense of self awareness is frankly quite painful. I would describe myself as being very smart. I am smart enough to know that many things that go on in this world are fucked up...

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When the humanity has been sucked out of the using experience, you will know what I mean by saying people are willing to pick at your bones. In the first tier of using hell, there are the straight up predators. These individuals are opportunist parasites looking for a chance to change their fortunes through brute force or deception. There is no easy way to pick them from a crowd. A "friend" may have copped for you 23 times but on the 24th, when you are REALLY sick, that is the moment they walk away never to return. Another creature simply provides you with sub standard product that may or may not make you sick in some way. A third type of predator will simply snatch and grab your money because they can take it. As a junkie, you are at the bottom of the food chain. You may catch up with them. The dope world is vast and very small at the same time. At that moment, you are simply another prey item with just a little less self esteem because you got burned in the game of odds. ...

Here I am again. I am in the very same place. I am sitting on my couch reflecting on the day I let you in. I drove a wedge into your heart or was that the needle into my skin? I just wanted to hear you  buzzzzzzzz. The world had fuzzy edges. What is so odd, so different about me? It is hard for me to make a sentence when all you see is that I am using the wrong words. I am sitting in the corner. I have a drink in my hand. I will have the same drink all night long. I feel the coldness. The perspiration on the glass. The bitter taste against my lips. This is not my poison.  I spend twenty minutes in the bathroom so I can sit at this table. Your conversation turns into my dream state as I slowly fade from view. I am here, and I am near but I am oh so far away I hear your whispers. Yes, I am a fuck up. I am smart enough to know this world is fucked, so I am fucked up. Why don't I just get clean. Clean as in a place? Clean as in an object? Where do I go get some of this clean? ...

Staring at the ceiling as the morning crawls into my conscious mind. Here I am again. The first words out of my mouth "I hate my fucking life. " I am too tired to kill myself. I am too strung out to stop . Addiction has put me In a place of suspended animation. I am frozen in this spot where my inaction is gnawing my body away with withdrawal. My flesh creeps up my neck and my legs are crawling up the sheets with twitches that would make Lazarus rise from the dead and beg for mercy. How can I do do this again? I am too tired to scrounge the world. I am too sick to give up. Can I just lay here and be miserable. No bitch, get up. The monkey makes me cry in pain. I need a fucking fix, not a cure. I am not broken. I am just keenly aware that I am not in charge. GET UP NOW. My body resists the pull of the hustle. I would get dressed but I fell asleep with my clothes on. I am in the special place. The fuck it place. I do not care what it takes today. I am going to get up and ac...

This post is not full of horror stories. Sometimes I get myself upset when I recount my past. I was to talk to you readers about an entirely different topic. Making friends seems so easy to normal folk. When we see children in the sand box, they naturally determine some form of social order. They determine among themselves who can sit where. One wants to be close to their mother. Another child wants to share a bucket with others. When I think of my self as I child, I see my self as the child who is sitting in an area filled with opportunity, yet somehow I feel totally alone. As a using addict, we know lonely like we know drugs. At first, we may use with a group of friends. But we are never satisfied when the party is over. We are sneaking off to the bathroom for something extra. At first, our behavior is accepted as a normal phase. Eventually, our circles become smaller and smaller. I knew I was an addict when I spent more time waiting for the dealer than in the company of friends. T...

When we first got together, it was love at first bite. You left a bruise on my flesh to mark your territory. You never told me that we would be bonded in a lifelong embrace. You told me that you loved me that very first time. It was like sex and food and a warm blanket. You promised everything would be okay as long as we were together. You needed to be with me if I could just find a way. I knew at that moment, it was love in 40 units. The next time was even better for me. I was not afraid of your love. I held on to the silky feeling of being reunited and it feels so GOOD. As I wipe off a bit of puke from my chin, you are moving in. You want me. ME! You picked me. All my friends are so clueless. The world is passing us by like a joyful dream dampened by the sunrise. I am with you. You are inside of me. We are one. Again, again, again you call to me. Come see you. Just one more time. The sacrifices I make just for a few moments stolen for your presents. There are no longer gifts....

I’m afflicted with a disease that takes the greatest dreamers amongst us. A disease stigmatized by society and punished with ferocity.  I'm forced to live in a shroud of secrecy and deception.  I don’t think people really understand what it takes to be an addict.  A heroin addiction is not a fun or glamorous. After a brief honeymoon period, it is not even an enjoyable thing.  No, a dope addiction is a fucking chore.  A time suck.  A money pit.  A trust destroyer.  A soul stealer.   People try to talk to me about how stressed they can be about life in general.  Perhaps it is their job, maybe their kids, or, more likely, some menial bullshit they’re placing far too much stock in.  Obviously, they’ve never dealt with the stress of a dope habit. I'm not trying to marginalize the lives of earthlings, but the stress of a habit contributes to one if the most intense experiences I've ever encountered, and it occurs on a regular basis....

If you have never been strung out on drugs, it is nearly impossible to explain what it is like to novice user. When someone tells you they are dabbling opiates, you first reaction may be one of panic. Oh my God, please do not do it! We are not sure if we want to hug this person for being so innocent or slap them for being so foolish as to play with literal fire. That warm fuzzy feeling of a few vicodin quickly was played out for many of us. We simply needed MORE. More please- do you have any more? Can I get some more? Do you need some more? Opiates set off the more center of our brain. Sometimes I watch my husband drink a beer. I see the difference between a person like me and a person without any addiction issues in those moments. He pours a beer. He enjoys the taste. He selected the beer based on taste not price or alcohol volume. He looks at it. He studies it. He enjoys the taste. The beer may even sit there for an extended period of time while he has a conversation. In fact, he m...

I am rubbing my finger tips. I burnt them. I could not drop this cooker. Everything in my existence is in there. The burning of the lighter , the boiling of my fate. I see my dreams go up in vinegar smoke. I'm burning now. My skin is burning now. I am burning on the inside. My veins are fucking burning up from this shit. A hundred and something degrees of joy and sorrow up from legs to my brain. I burnt my fingers holding on to this cooker just a little too long. Fuck. Another injury. Let me take some type of inventory. A miss here, yes, a big rope like collapsed bit of bruise over here.Hold on I still have my pants down as I am feeling the effects of my daily remedy. Let me pull my pants up. Did I realize how bad it really stank back here? Why did I decide to fix in the same alley where crackheads go to take a hurried shit. I brush my hair back into my baseball hat. I am sweating now. The heroin makes me sweat. I collect my accouterments of my use- a cooker, a lighter, i only ...

Have you ever loved some one so much they "made" you do crazy stupid things? I loved her. I loved this woman. She was the queen of my heart. Love can take many forms. There is a familia love. That is the love you have for some one close to you. They do not have to be your blood but they feel like family. There is a sexual love. This is a love where two people become entwined in a physical embrace that leads to spontaneous declarations. Then there is junkie love. Junkie love is the strongest force behind the pull of a strong blood register in a full syringe.   Junkie love is a mixture of sex, drugs, mystery, and insanity. Without even so much as an orgasm, you are intrinsically bonded to another human being. THEY understand me. This person knows me from the bottom, to me lying on the floor and up. The blood, the love, the pain, the  struggle just to maintain my sense of normal.  She was the queen of my heart. She made me crazy in a way I never felt until that day. Tho...

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I am sitting in this bathroom searching for a vein. I paid $5 to get into the hotel. They let me up without ID. This is the only place I can go and take my shoes and pants completely off of me. I wonder what the workers think when they catch my bare legs out of the corner of their eye. Do they think I am picking at myself? Do they think I am insane? Do they wish that they had the type of freedom I enjoy as a homeless junkie living in an open air sewer known as the Tenderloin. Do they cover their child's eyes and silently pray that this will never happen to them. The blood, blood! A register is a welcome addition to my miserable morning. FUCK. I can see the miss as it happens. The pain in the foot. These veins are just too damn small for the size hit I need to make me feel better. It is clogging- the rig the rig is clogging up with my precious drugs frozen in 50 units of purgatory. I am going to have to switch rigs again. CHRIST! Can not catch a break. People are pounding on the...