traceyh415

I have let many men touch my flesh.  I have let a few of them in my heart.  I have stuck some needles in my neck.  Dulled the pain before it starts.  I have lived years with no love in my life. I have traded my morals at a cost.  I have let blood drip down my arms.  A sacrifice to a God I lost.  Don't be sad when I am gone,  Don't cry I am gone too soon,  I sold my life for pins and needles, That I melted in a burning spoon.   

I still have a handful of t-shirts left I had printed for a benefit. $20 postage paid. Email me traceyh415@gmail.com 

I like to post different views on recovery and addiction. This is one, you may have another. I am in abstinenced based recovery but that is not the road for everyone. Success can be measured differently by different people -Tracey When people think about recovery they tend to do it in terms of black and white, addicts are either active, currently using, or in recovery, no longer using. when I look back at the blurry haze that has been most of my life I often find myself lost trying to figure out when I have been most 'active' and when I have been most 'in recovery' over my 15 year long adventure with drugs and alcohol I have shifted through many phases of use, sometimes only drinking, sometimes only drugs, occasionally (albeit rarely) neither. In my youth everything was in play, the game was 'get fucked up' and the rules were lose, every narcotic was a new experience, a new tool on my belt of feelings and experiences that I could have ready and waiting...

Os sonhos agridoces   que você tem quando e stá são              Eu nunca soube da alegria que eu poderia ter durante a  minha recuperação até o dia   em que aquelas garrinhas se   levantaram, a amargura diminuiu, e finalmente tive a chance de experimentar uma vida feliz. É preciso um tempo para superar os danos que o abuso de drogas durante anos pode   causar no nosso corpo e cérebro. Eu estava  me mantendo  em uma zona decente por muitos anos até agosto de 2006. Mas esse mês iria mudar a minha vida pra sempre.               Pelos primeiros nove meses eu estava longe das drogas , eu não podia chorar. T entei gritar , eu queria chorar. Todo mundo me disse que era bom chorar , mas eu não   conseguia derramar uma única lágrima sequer. Um certo embruteciment...

I was staring out the window one icy Ohio morning. I could see my breath against the window pane as I shivered in my seat on my way to school. I was bundled up in my leggings, covered in thermal underwear, hastily tucked under my blackwatch plaid uniform skirt. I had wool socks, waterproof boots, and layers upon layers over my sports bra. I knew I had gym class that day. I hated to change clothes around the preppie bitches I called my classmates. They had been cruel to me since I started this educational nightmare three years prior. My notebook was covered with offensive bands, offensive sayings. I wore a black crucifix around my neck. My black nail polish was chipped, my cat eyes were slightly smeared that day. I looked out the frosty window pane that morning and I knew I needed to get the fuck out of here. I imagined myself in a movie, I saw it. I knew one day I would be someone special. But I was fucking nobody, seventeen and alone. My first time I really remember getting high was...

Addiction, its the little voice in your head tellin you to just do it....like an infinite nike logo swooshing through your head eternally, "...just do it....just do it"    The well known voice thats whispering sweet nothings into my ear every night....enticing me to give in my cravings and go cop a blow...this voices, speak in such a way that you dont ever hear it....you just react to it, its gets into your blood and begins to work its way through your inner core..where it sinks its fangs deep into the black glob of your remaining soul...where it feeds off of your emotions like a parasite. EVERYTHING becomes a reason to get high...Have a bad day at work? Fuck it, just get high....Relationship problems?..fuck it, just get high....stubbed your toe...might be time for a little heroin to cure the pain. Before you know whats happening your at the ATM, pulling out another 40, 80 or 100 dollars to give to the devil..the rush of going to cop is something  that every addict i...

            I never knew Robin Williams but I thought I would add a few words that are in shock or grief. I feel like I can provide some insight for you. As a person that has struggled with depression since childhood, unfortunately I am never surprised when a person takes their life. Yet, of course, I am profoundly sad. I feel a connection with that person. I remember walking about in my pajamas as an adolescent for week at a time, wanting to sleep my life away. No one could put a label on this feeling, until one day they did. Depression hangs over you like weight pulling you into the earth with no soft landing. Depression pushes out all other thoughts and leaves no room for competition with joy. Depression chains you to the couch and disarms you with it’s subtle dismissal of hope.             When a depressed person first discovers drugs, it is a revelation. It provides a ...