traceyh415

I am 45 years old now. I am soft in the middle. I own a home in the San Francisco Bay Area (the bank owns most of it). I have three children. I racked up a bachelor's degree, a master's degree, and an addiction studied credential. I have almost as much in retirement accounts as I do student loan debt. I have traveled to Canada, Mexico, Europe, and across the US. I wrote a book then another. I have tried every drug I could get my hands on. I have had my share of lovers, lost many friends. In fact,  I have lived 15 years past my expiration date. When I was using drugs, the Sex Pistols reminded me there was "No Future". There was no future for a person like me. I hated the world. I hated the establishment. Most of all, I hated myself. I am not sure how I went from a loving, confident child to an anxious teen full of self- loathing. Incrementally, I changed into a person that was afraid of the world. I was afraid of my reactions. I got into drugs and alcohol because it ...

Some days I feel like a normal person. Other days, I feel like a worthless.   Depressed, stressed.  Worrying about the tiniest detail.  I want to cover my face.  That way, you won't see.  I wear my emotions like make-up.  I cover up down to the foundation.  Years without drugs. Years without an excuse.  When you peel back my skull,  You see that only the pain remains.  How can I let it go?  It has kept me company.  So many years spent beside me.  Depression is a comfortable robe.  I wrap myself in that warm feeling.  I'm settled in. 

"It's too hot out here" he tells me "my nuts are sticking to my leg". I shake my head. "Ohhh you think that is too much information?" he asks me. I roll my eyes. He follows "how do you think I feel about think I feel about watching you dig for a vein a half inch from your pussy?" I pull my hat down, pretending I am slightly embarrassed. The truth is- when it comes to drugs I have no shame. We met in the hall way of my hotel. I wasn't looking for anyone. I preferred to do my thing alone. A man tended to get in the way. A man was either lying in the bed crying about ho he was sick, in and out of jail, or trying to put restrictions on my use. The last one I dated only wanted me to use when he was around, as if I couldn't handle myself. The idea was ridiculous. Everything bad had happened to me in the first six months after I got to San Francisco. Raped? Check. Overdose? Check. Robbed? Check Beaten up? Check. Had someone try ...

There have been a few major loves in my life. My husband. My children, of course. And heroin. "Why did you do it?" she asks me. It is hard to answer that question. I started out this world as an innocent wide eyed girl. I had a question for everything. I had a great sense of curiosity. Why was the sky blue? Why doesn't the water stay warm? Why is it that the birds all leave when the snow comes. I wanted to know a little bit of everything. As I got a little bit older, my questions started to change. I saw the world through the same lenses, my things seemed to get murkier. Why do those boys pick on me? Why did Jesus have to die? Why is it that Daddy made you cry. There were things I wanted to know, there were things that required an answer. The world, I learned was just the magical place where everything synced together in harmony. Some things were cruel. Some of the edges were jagged. If I played with the stove, I was going to get burned. Heroin. Why did it seem s...

"How long are you going to keep diggin' in them feet sis?" he asks me in a exaggerated drawl. God- I hate being called sis or being referred to as some one's "street sister". It isn't that I don't care for people. I absolutely do. I even think of a few as being like my extended. That isn't this context. However, "sis" is always followed by a freakin' request. Can I get a cigarette sis? NO Can you spare some change sis? NO Can I get a sip of your forty sis? NO NO NO. I am not your sister. I have a family. I have a family I left a few years ago. I traded them in for a bag of dope. I rarely call them. I haven't seen them since my mom had to drive me for my HIV test. They thought I was positive for a few weeks. I had caught a case of thrush. That is one of nine conditions that makes up the ARC or AIDS related conditions. I did a huge hit of speed before I left San Francisco. I didn't come down until a few days after i got t...

I really liked the way this turned out. I hope you will give it a listen. The Heroine of Heroin

Will get another post down when I get back.