traceyh415

This morning, I was riding the train. Normally, when I ride the train I am completely immersed in scrolling the internet. I am looking for the the next wave of drama in the world to distract me from my emotions. As long as I tune out the rest of humanity, I don't have to feel anything. As I was zoning out, my zombie status was interrupted by a voice. I didn't just hear a voice. I felt this voice. I felt a deep, male voice. It was like it was reverberating through my mind. I looked around the train. I thought I was losing my fucking mind. I have heard voices before fro all my meth use. For a moment, I was convinced it was a flashback for a few seconds. Finally, I looked in front of me. There was a young man standing directly in front of me but I would have completely overlooked him. He had a backpack on. He was tall, with clean clothes, and a scruffy beard. At first, I thought he was signing along to music. When I looked with desperate intent, I saw he was singing with no musi...

"We are here to take you pulse Miss Helton" the nurse told me. "Do they ever let you sleep in this fucking hospital?" I asked as I put out my arm.  "Can you provide me with your date of birth?' I pointed to my wrist "It is right on my wristband 5/29/1970." The nurse smiled at me with her best fake smile as she tried to take my blood pressure. "When will I get some more morphine?" I asked. "I am not sure," she told me "Are you in pain?' Yes. Yes. Yes. I am in fucking pain. I want to get the fuck out of here. There is one small problem- I am hooked up to all these tubes. I have a tube letting fluids in and a tube letting fluids out. I don't remember exactly what caused the abscess. I sort of remember jamming a syringe into my arm of unfiltered tar heroin few times when I was sick. I developed two infections close together to the point the doctors felt it was necessary to slice me open five inches long. Yest...

I have been fostering this little guy so I am a few days behind with a new post. I will get something posted soon! 

To understand the depths of human depravity, a person certainly must have lived there. I had an uphill battle from the start. I was an addict. I was a woman. I was homeless. I was alone. When I came to San Francisco, the first thing that struck me was the fact that there were so many homeless drug users here. I had lived in many other cities across the South and Midwest. In all those places, I had known users and hard core alcoholics. None of them were what I would describe as homeless. They found places to stay each night. There was a time when I was complete broke in Louisville Kentucky. I had left everything to get away from  my abusive boyfriend. People would let me stay with them- a night here and there. No one even considered letting me leave their house with absolutely NO place to go. If they did, I just didn't know it. There was always a back room, a couch, a closed in porch. When I got too drunk, there was a few times strange men brought me home. I would wake up in str...

Sometimes I get lonely. I get very depressed. Some weekends, I just want to sleep. I am afraid to talk to people I don't know. I avoid going places because of anxiety. My heart races with fears of the future. I have thought about killing myself more than once. I binge on food until I feel sick. I look at porn and feel disgusted with myself. I wear loose clothes because I hate to see my rolls of fat. I look at my phone so you won't talk to me. I am afraid to get close to anyone. I am afraid they might leave me. I am saying all this to say I am human. Recovery did not fix all my feelings. I have many good days. I have fucked up days as well. My life is far from perfect. I go through a full range of emotions. I just want to let you know that feeling these things are normal. You are not alone. I am like my cats.  Joy can be so simple -  like a nap in the sun.  Find your joy today.  You deserve it. 

The story of Chester is a complicated one. It started soon after my arrival. After a month of bouncing around San Francisco, it was not long before I ran out of money. That $900 lasted a total of three weeks with multiple people sponging off of my cash. I had to learn the ropes of survival but I was still a little naive as to the ways and means of the street life. I wasn’t ready to engage in survival sex and/or prostitution, so I learned the ways of pan handling and scoring things by engaging people on the street. People are surprisingly generous to younger fresh faced travelers, especially in the traditionally gay areas of the Castro and Polk Gulch. Castro Street begging was very competitive. Therefore, it was generally left to cute young men who were willing to flirt with passersby. The Polk Gulch area was a more eclectic area of alternative types, punks, queers, trannys, homeless people and junkies. This was where I belonged and this was where I stayed for many years. The street...

Here it is  My story

"Are you done yet?" he asks. I attempt to ignore this person. Why do people find it necessary to approach a random stranger in the park. I hate being a woman alone in this world. He can't stop me from completing my business. I am searching through my backpack for some dope I am sure I lost a few days ago. I tried to shove it in a hole I cut near the zipper. Now, it has disappeared. More than likely, it disappeared in my arm but it doesn't hurt to look. Today is going to be an awesome day. I am well, for once. It is nice to get off that bag chase. I even brought some snacks along with me when I left my room this morning. I got some vanilla wafers I plan to dump into my pint of milk. My teeth hurt from the sugar but I don't mind.  The man moves even closer to me. "I said," he says more forcefully "are you done yet?!" I am not sure why this person finds it necessary to single me out. This is a public space. I have just as much right to ...