traceyh415

Smokey- it sounds like the name for a pimp that chain smokes. Nope, he is just my little friend.  Fourteen years ago, I was living in a clean and sober housing situation run by the Salvation Army. It was inside a single room occupancy hotel with around 100 units, some of which had been sectioned off for office use. My room was on the second floor. I was facing the street, overlooking the Tenderloin. I used to look at into the night sky and see reflections of myself in the shadows. I used to keep my milk on the ledge. I made instant coffee in the sink using barely hot water. I splurged on basic cable I watched on my tiny screen. My life was simple, easy, and full of fear. How could I ever get out of this place? How could I ever leave the only place I had known in my adult life where I could live and not stick needles in my arm. I would sign my boyfriend in for overnight visits.As we would lay in the glow of the streetlights outside, we talked of getting a place together. A...

By now, you faithful readers know my book is out. I am going to be doing some traveling where I talk about my book. I hope I get to meet you all and sign them for you. March 24- Diesel Bookstore in Oakland 7-8pm April 8 - The Woodstock Writer's Festival, Woodstock NY April 12- The Atlantic summit on Mental Health and Addiction Washington DC April 21- Barnes and Noble in Emeryville June 4- Life Ring Annual Conference San Diego California.

"It looked like a fucking shiitake mushroom, I swear " he tells me as he passes me the pipe. I hate smoking crack. HATE it. If you have $17 and you are dope sick, doesn't it seem logical to wait until you have $8 to get some dope? Of course it does. But this mother fucker is not logically. He just spent the last of his money on a twenty shot he got a discount. In thirty minutes when this crack is gone, he is going to be TWICE as sick rolling around the floor tasting every little bit of pigeon shit that made it of the ledge on to the carpet. I chose to abstain from his madness. I wave his offer off. If he had some meth, that is one thing but crack, no. Not unless I have some landing gear or at least a 40 oz to calm me down. I am puzzled "What do you mean it looked like a shiitake mushroom?" He pauses for a minute to take a drink of Kern's strawberry drink. That beverage must taste like sugar and sand in that dehydrated mouth. He must have inside a combina...

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Currently, I am propped up on my bed. I have a pillow on my lap to keep my chromebook from feeling like it is going to sear the flesh off my legs with it's toaster like heat after an hour or so of browsing the internet. My 12 year old black lab mix Sadie is curled up next to me on the dog bed we probably should have thrown out a few years ago after she tore the stuffing out of it. She is too tired for these kinds of play now. She likes to rest near me, my constant companion for most of her life. She was rescued from a crackhouse just like me. My old cat is a few feet ahead of me. He doesn't know it yet but he is heading for the oncologist in a few days. The last surgery for a tumor on his side was unsuccessful. He is not yet 14. I have to say, I am not ready to let him go. My daughter is rustling around in her chemistry kit in the next room. When the chemistry kit mentioned "ice cream" as an experiment, she is now all about being a junior scientist. I hope she keeps w...

I do videos for youtube a few times a year. Watch then send me some questions! click  here  . By the way, you will notice, I do not run ads on my blog or my channel.

Terry was awesome. Very nice. She laughed at my bad jokes. Here is the link the show should be up later today

Some days I feel like jumping in front of a train. This is a very unpleasant yet realistic side effect of having a life long battle with depression. I imagine the train getting closer. I can see myself stepping past the yellow line in such a way there would no way for the driver to stop. My problems would be over in an instant. That is the fantasy. That achy feeling that chases me around would finally be gone. Then reality sets in. What if I merely get stuck on the tracks? I end up getting sandwiched there while my leg is painfully pinned under the massive weight of this monstrous machine. I scream in agony while my life flashes in front of my eyes. What about my kids? Will I be an invalid, pushed around for the rest of my life? Will my mistakes make me a burden for everyone I love? What about the horrified by standers? They are going to be traumatized for life because of my shitty choices. Most of all, in facing death, I realize I wanted to live. I didn't want to actually die....