traceyh415

http://ruthjacobs.co.uk/2014/09/29/tracey-helton-writer-interview/

CHAPTER: "Push Down and Turn" "Life..its not meant to be easy and sometimes you may feel liked you are locked in the same everyday routine that never ends. There comes a time where you will have to "push" yourself a little harder, Take the things you normally do, with a firm grasp, grab ahold of your emotions and "twist" them in the opposite direction... and you will be surprised on how some doors open to reveal the "fix" you have been needing all along. 2:37 AM   As I sit here getting high I stare at the top of the pill bottle. The white cap with the blue letters marked "PUSH DOWN AND TURN" stare back at me. I think back to the hundreds, if not thousands of pill bottles that have crossed my path. From the great ones like the original OC80's, the roxi's, the xanax bars....down to the norcos, the vicodins, somas,percocets,flexeril....then the tylenol 3 and 4's, neurontin, marinol....the list goes on. Then there are the p...

I did not wake up one morning and have one year, two years, five years, a decade, or sixteen years clean. When I read literature, personal stories, and academic articles so much is left out of any description of the process of recovery. It is as if nothing after the first year exists. It is assumed if you can make it through the initial year, you are magically released of addictive thinking. This is simply not true. Sometimes, whether you have four days or four years clean, you are going to feel like absolute shit. Addiction is like an abusive relationship. Despite the fact that you are clear this is no good for you, you still romanticize the memory of your time together. "Remember when me and you were cool, drugs? We could hang out all day and never get tired of each other? We did big things together ". But then those drugs beat your ass over and over and over. You FINALLY left but you can't forget them.  When you get into recovery, everyone thinks you should be ...

Addiction makes strange bedfellows. This statement is highly inaccurate because heroin takes away any desire I had to fuck anyone. Well, that is unless I was kicking. Kicking heroin is a cruel fucking set up. It is as if every fluid in your body chooses that exact moment to abandon the broken ship of your aching body at one time. Let's see- snot. Check. Runny eyes- check. Liquid ass- check and double check (your underwear). Puke- reporting for duty. The cruelest trick of all is that suddenly sneezing may make you have the first orgasm you have had in 8 or 9 months. I would full forget I had a pussy unless I was 1. storing dope in it or 2. trying to find someone to pay me an entrance fee. My period was long gone, were my tits. I used to really enjoy them too. Damn. Anyway, that particular day I was sick out of my god damn mind. A female hustler has a tendency to gravitate towards hard luck cases. Deep inside, we wish we could care for pets or children, so we care for adult men wit...

This is translated from a non English speaker.  what we´ve got here is failure to communicate... i was born in the middle of the seventies...raised up in the eighties...and my childhood was very protected. adopted as a small baby I grew up in a large house with a huge garden...a big forest behind the the house...sand box in the garden...the lawn mowed accurate to 2cm ... maintained and just stuffy. however..the beautiful times began to fall apart sometimes...i think it was when I am at the age of 9... one day when I was walking home from school I saw my mother brought a big package in a block of flats...a few streets away from my idyllic home. that was not even unusual because my mother worked in a post office at that time. she offered me that she would bring the package to an older women in this flat...and in my childish naivety I believed her. later on the same day my mother opened my father that she would leave him...and that she would take me with her..out of my lovely home and...

"Chip off the old Block" See...drugs have been in my bloodline long before I was even a daydream. Both of my birth parents were addicts..."My mother was a vodka queen and my father was a rock star.. So I ended up rolling stoned in the back of a cop car" From what little I really do know of my mother, she was from upstate  New York, and Im pretty sure thats where she met my father..they split when I was 2 years old. I remember the fights, I remembered seeing my father slap the shit out of my mother one day during an argument  and I think my mother had us stay in a hotel that night. Her nose was bleeding and I guess I found a band aid and gave it to her and it made her laugh and she hugged me...My father and mother both drank a d fought when drunk, it became a normal part of my childhood, the yelling and screaming...but by that time my young brain was already corrupted by the addictive genes passed to me.  My father told me that they would drink and smoke weed togethe...

As I slide my back against the hot wall, I can feel the energy being sucked out of my body. Underneath my burgundy sweater and matching burgundy leggings lay the evidence of my plight. I am extremely malnourshed to the point that one can easily see all the ribs climbing up my back. I do eat- mostly a pint of ben and jerry's- when I am done working and can finally enjoy my fix. My legs are a serious of track marks and bruises therefore I am covered up on this hot day. I need to look shiny and new. I am working the corner where the young girls stand. It is a few blocks down from the center for runaway youth. Men who drive up and down this street are looking for young girls; 14, 16, 18, but certainly not me. I am all washed up at the tender age of 22. But I still have a young face- especially when my eyes are pinned from heroin. Unfortunately, today is not that day. I had to pay rent on my room so I am sick, sick, sick. Usually, I would fix first and pay later but I was so far behin...

I am not sure it is a cure for addiction but I do think it should be studied as an alternative for opiate detox . <<< click here for link 

Lençóis Limpos Acordava em lençóis limpos naquela manhã . Na verdade, eu havia trocado os lençóis na noite passada. Eu d ormia   com um edredon xadrez vermelho me cobrindo em uma noite quente . D ormia em uma cama queen size. A mola do colchão havia   quebrado  após treze anos de uso, então eu havia substituído a mola   cerca de seis meses antes.  O pé da cama box também havia quebrado na armação , e   tive que  apoiá-la com alguns livros que eu tinha por aqui . Eu estava inquieta na noite anterior. Tinha  ficado me re virando na cama por causa do calor . Era como se os espíritos daqueles que se foram antes de mim   quisessem relembrar algum outro momento comigo. Isso fez com que o meu suor me deixasse pregada naquele  edredon sujo . Eu acordava contorcendo-me em agonia   por causa das dores no estômago . Os buracos de queimaduras fizeram o poliéster do ...

I woke up inside clean sheets this morning. In fact, I changed the sheets last night. I slept between red flannel comfort on a warm evening. I slept on top of a queen sized bed. The box spring broke after thirteen years so I replaced it about six months ago. The wheel broke on the frame so I replaced it with some books I had laying around.  I was restless last night. I was tossing and turning because of the heat. It was if the spirits of those that have passed before me wanted me to remember another time. A time when sweat made me stick to the dirty blankets. I would wake up writhing in agony from stomach cramps on the soiled comforter. The burn holes made the polyester comforter scratchy. My hair was stuck to the dirty pillow that a hundred residents of this cheap hotel had used before me. Some of their hairs remained in the fibers. A crime scene investigator would get confused by ten kinds of blood on the wall from junkies and violence and self harm. My life was truly a horror sh...

For many getting high is a way to escape the shitty problems of everyday life. Everyone has struggles to get through, and the severity of the struggles changes from person to person.  To one person a certain lifestyle is a living hell, like slaving away at a job that never feels rewarding...to someone without a job they may see it as a dream life....to each his own as they say. Robin Williams's suicide has a big impact on the world, he became the epitomy of tbe phrase "tears of a clown"....he used humor to deal with his inner turmoil, and did it so well that only a few really knew his struggle.  I find myself doing the same thing, and living by the code of "if you dont laugh at it, it will drive you crazy"    and at times my humor is used at the wrong times, but its my coping mechanism....well my second coping mechanism....the first is heroin.   Heroin has this magic ability to make me just not think, it shuts off the voice in my head and allows me to ...