Thirty One Years of Overdoses
I wish I worked on my writing more but the state of the world can make it hard to string a sentence together. I will keep at it though. I started this blog 8-9 years ago. I know everyone has switched to substack or their own website. Well, the person who designed my website died of an overdose. I have not had the heart to get a new one since his passing.
I met him through r/opiates on reddit. This was back in the wild west days of the sub. There was lots of people finding ways to meet up in their state. This person lived in Georgia. There was a core group of people who used drugs based in and around Atlanta. The glue that held that scene together was a middleman. Folks would drive from states over to meet with him. I also struck up a friendship with him because I was looking for unique ways to prevent overdoses. So S and I formed an alliance of sorts. I would send him multi vial bottles up naloxone. These held up to ten doses depending on how they were drawn up into an intramuscular syringe. I provided all the supplies. He provided a place for people to do their wares. In total, S reversed over 50 overdoses in his shitty apartments in both GA and NC. He eventually died of an overdose himself. I cannot speak to his bag size, whether or not he was a "good" conduit to the high people sought. I can say he was a down mfer who didn't let people die on his watch. And my other friend was one of these people.
As time when on, my friend had decided he did not want to continue will the rollercoaster that is active addiction. He had been in and out of rehab a few times on his parents dime. He had briefly moved back in with them on the East Coast to try and get his bearings. He eventually settled in a city, found a job as he always did. The calls and emails became less frequent as he got a girlfriend. The thing I remember most before he death is that he was going to send me pickles they had made from things they had grown in their garden. He had contacted me AND she had contacted me to tell me that he had relapsed. At one point, his mother contacted me. This was all in rapid succession. I am sure his mother believed in her heart that this was just another bump in the road. When she asked me what I advised, I did something I never do reader. I told her very bluntly that she should go see her son. I never say that kind of thing. In fact, I almost never interact with parents. But she asked and I just knew. I felt it. My friend was found dead within the week. This was a few years ago but summertime pickles will always remind me of him.
So there will not be a substack for me. No new website. No media upgrades at this time. It has been a few years. I just don't have it in me. I have been dealing with losses from overdoses for thirty one years. It never gets easier. It just gets more frequent. My circle has shriveled to a very few as I buffer myself from the pain of heartache. I would like to let more people in but I am simply exhausted. I have lots of love to give though, still and always. I love you. T.
i can't imagine the losses you have been through. you are strong and resilient and human. much love from new orleansReplyDelete
My love to you !!Delete
I can only describe things as exactly as they happen. I'm a reader from far back. Another seeking recovery as best I know. Been a few since I lurked your page. But asi lay in bed with my hand on my dogs chest thinking how every breath, so similar yet minutely different, I thought. "What is Tracey up to?"Please don't stop. Ever. No matter the page. No matter the time between posts someone will always read.ReplyDelete
love you king strangerDelete