traceyh415

I don't write about my recovery as often as a I should. Sometimes, I feel as if it is not that interesting. I have a fairly ordinary existence. I get up in the early morning. I try to juggle the insanity of getting three kids dressed an out the door. Generally one is throwing a fit while another doesn't like what they have to wear while another is upset because I won't let them bring a particular toy to school. I try to block off at least ten minutes to cuddle with the smallest one. He still wants to spend time with me in my lap.  He will point forcefully " I want to cuddle with YOU!" I generally comply with his request. It is difficult to explain how much my life has changed. A little over sixteen years ago I was paying to stay in a hell hole of a hotel in the Tenderloin. I paid almost $900 a month to live in a place that would put you out in the street by 11:00 if the rent was not paid. The manager had tried to bring tricks to my room to "help" me ...

" I hate my life "  I mumble to myself. There is no one around to listen. The first thing I try to do is move my hands. They are swollen like hard rocks. I slept with them over my head on a pillow in hopes that the swelling would go down. My fingers look like sausages. They are bruised around the knuckles. I try to use my hands to push myself up but I am stopped by the intense throbbing pain in my hands. What the fuck have I done to myself this time. I see myself in the mirror across the room. My eyes are also slightly swollen. The bags below them are creeping up like the rolling tide trying to keep my eyes closed. The last four days have been a blur. It started with the innocent idea of a little binge to reward myself. Somehow, I managed to have five days in a row off work. It started with a few shots and the bar and ended with me in this condition. If I smoked, this would be a good time for a cigarette. If I could find my wallet, I could survey the rest of the damage. ...

You ever have a day where it seems like everyone has left? Where did the time go? Where did my life go? I was just sitting here trying to get a hit. Then, one day I looked up and you were walking away with someone else. There is no one who can stop the pain I feel knowing what we had was real but now you are over me. I see the grayness in my skin and the ashes that burn like the spoon in front of me. Just add water to my reality. I can give you forty units of my time as long as you surrender to the fact the person you knew ran away. Most people are running to something. We like to set a goal and reach for our assumptions of happiness. I found this ONE thing that makes me happy. This ONE thing but it kills me just the same. Have you ever seen someone turn blue? In their glassy eyes you see the future. Do I give them what they need to live or do I walk away from life. The decisions we make change the course of galaxy. While we are looking into the stars, other people have their...

Excited to see naloxone in the news

Breathe deeply into the night air. I can barely catch my heart from beating outside my chest. The ribs are holding in my lungs. They are pushing against my shirt. My skin in dry. My lips are cracked. My eyes are beams in the night air. I stand against the brick wall. The heat burns against my skin. They put me out into the world. I guess I got a little crazy. I did some speed and coke and dope. Nothing too unusual. I took my backpack and dumped it out. Everything started to look shiny. All my things strewn on the floor. Take them out and put them in. I thought I was organizing all my stuff. The bags, the socks, the needles with broken tops. Spread all over the linoleum. Spread all over the kitchen. I was in the bathroom for far too long. A day? An hour? A few spent fishing. I had taken an x and marked the last place I hit a vein. It was truly a treasure and I needed a map. I have no place to sleep tonight so I need to go fast. Stay up, stay awake, be aware. They told me I had to ...

I think one of the biggest misconceptions about drug users is that they are completely invested in drugs. To the outside world, the devotion to a substance seems fluid as if one day turns into the next without questions. In reality, there are moments in every day where they user questions themselves or their decisions. The addiction, the physical dependence, forces you forward towards another bag. I don't think it is possible to wake up completely broke one morning after spending all your money on drugs without wondering what is going on in your life. I don't think it is possible to miss multiple family functions or have to cover up being high without some sort of "what the fuck am I doing" feeling. The mistake that loved ones and non users frequently make is the assumption that the user no longer cares. The user DOES care. The user cares to the point that the pain of disappointment needs to be buried deeply beneath the layer of depression, guilt, and occasional fit...

http://touch.latimes.com/#section/-1/article/p2p-79292964/

I woke up under a table one day. Someone was slapping my face.  There was fear in his eyes.  Fear that I did not recognize. Fear told a story.  I ask "why am I laying on the floor??!"  "You died bitch!" He screams.  I was asleep. I had these dreams. I was just nodding!!! I protested My face hurt from his assault  My appetite for drugs was not arrested  My mind was black but now I'm here.  I noticed I was under a table.  The carpet held my pounding head.  My friend was barely able  To save my ungrateful self "God damn it - Trace. You were dead!"  Like a lady, I pulled down my skirt,  I twisted my legs when I fell out,  Luckily I was not hurt.  The near death of the greedy dope hog.  I just wanted to get high.  I nearly died in the dirty shag,  With my friend nodding nearby.

My name is christopher I am 30yrs old and I live  in nyc. My addiction begun as a teenager like most of us,  it started mild and got really bad. Addiction destroyed my life and my family's. I got sober at 28 after a overdose, drugs was the worst relationship I've ever had it takes everything from you, it steals from you, pulls your family apart, destroys your Hopes and dreams and then finally it tried to kill me and it almost did. I thought I had just had bad luck for all those years I was using and that's just plain sick that I actually believed that.  After my overdose I went away to treatment for 3 months in a great place called St.Christophers upstate Ny. I needed long term treatment to get my head right, I've done other ones in the past and they never worked, not because it couldn't but because I didn't want it. You really have to want it to stay clean. So I followed the suggestions when I left, I went to meetings and most important in my case I stood away ...

One day I met this man. He was so sad. He said he needed my help. He had no one left. There was no one who loved him. I knew not to let him in. I knew he was a junkie. I knew what might happen. I let him into my heart. I let him into my place. I let him into my mind. And the man was happy. He said he wanted to get clean. He wanted me to help him. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to help him get to the other side. Then one day it rained. He had a terrible flood of emotions. "I am just going to the store " he said. He did not return that day, or the next. He did not return to the life we shared. Some people would say that the scorpion had stung me. It was in his nature. He could not stay with me. I disagree. The person he really hurt was himself. He was drowning. Drowning in his own tears.

" I want us to do something special" he says.  I am sitting in a doorway in the cold. I have on shorts, leggings, wet converse high tops, three shirts, a sports Bra week old panties I will surely throw away, and an Adidas jacket.    It has been raining for days. I have been sleeping in parking garages and doorways. I can't escape the rain. My wool blanket sucked the rain off the pavement like a sponge. I woke up to pee because I was shivering in the cold, damp darkness. I am coming down from a week on a speed run. I collapsed here yesterday. Now I have to pee so badly after sleeping nine hours under a wet blanket.  It is after two in the morning. I can tell because the hustlers are out and the bars are closed. Men circle the block to survey the selections. They are not interested in me. I am not afraid sleeping here. Well, I am not afraid of strangers. The rent boys look out for  me when they can. I woke up and found a home run pie and a milk next to my head. So...

I am content in reviewing the events.  I am painfully aware  my imperfections are laid bare  upon inspection.  The rain beats against the window  streaks likes scars-  a barrier to the outside world.  If you saw my tears, would you wipe them clean? Would you scrub them?  Claw away the remnants.  Reveal the joy inside my soul Suffocated by the choices I made 

Excited to be on CNN last night  click on the link. I have been doing a lot of media the past few days. Hoping to do another original piece by Saturday 

I am in the last stages of finishing my book "Black Tar Heroin And Beyond." In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the stories you find here. You can contact me by email traceyh415@gmail.com