traceyh415

There was a time that seemed not that long ago when the only thing I needed to worry about was what kind of drug was flowing through my veins. Opioids, benzos, amphetamines where my drug of choice. All at the same time of course. Don't forget the cocaine. Some booze was in there, too. That feeling of being dopesick and chugging on some Taca cheap ass vodka will never leave my memory. That feeling of having my side hurt only realizing it was my liver after washing down a handful of Vicodin with flat beer. There were many days when I woke up broken in my small apartment in Cincinnati that I thought "how much worse can my life possibly get?" I found out. I don't know if I was born an addict. I know my behaviors certainly molded me into one. That roller coaster of crippling depression briefly came to a screeching halt when I found opioids. There was my solution, my lover, and my best friend in one place. There was a time when I thought the real problem was simply not ha...

"I'm here on business..." he tells me. His voice is trailing off. He must be desperate to trust me.  There is a certain magical place for any all middlemen. That is a place when a person approaches you that is both too sick and too scared to get product for themselves. This person is firing on both cylinders. How he ever acquired a heroin habit, I do not know. I suppose he started popping a few percs after a sports injury or someone gave him a few lines in college. He stuck the straw in his nose expecting something similar to coke. Instead, he traveled down the rabbit hole where heroin became an orgasm, a first love, and a bowl full of fuck you all in one. As he settled in, he told himself this was the best feeling in the world until he began violently puking on his loafers. He couldn't make it to the bathroom so he yakked in his empty big gulp while his edgy female companion told him "I knew you would like it". I suppose when he stepped off the airplane in ...

Work. Dope. Sleep. Work. Dope. Sleep. Work. Dope. Sleep. Broke. Cry. Twitch. Whine. Ahhhhh. Nod. School. Dope. Sleep. School. Dope. Sleep. School. Dope. Sleep. Beg. Borrow. Cry. Twitch. Shit. Ahhh. Nod. Scam. Hustle. Scam. Hustle. Tick Tick Tick. Call. Wait. Call. Wait. Sick. Sick. SICK! No, I didn't lie to you. Well, maybe, just a little. Yes, I promise I will get clean. Middle. Skim. Middle. Another Day, another felony. Some cheese, some tar, some scramble. My life inside a plastic bag. Valium. Vodka. Ramble. My self esteem? I misplaced it. My faith in God? I erased it. I held my future in my hand. I traded it to my man. If I die in my sleep, Promise you won't wake me. If I have to live this way, I pray the drugs will take me. Tell my family that I loved them. Tell my girl she will love again. Tell my boyfriend that I am sorry. As I fade into oblivion.

I have been invited on a few different podcasts lately. This one required me to get up at 5:30 am. I try only requests that seem like a good fit and are no going to be saying terrible things about heroin users. I liked the way this one turned out. Link  here

Let me be completely clear. I have never been an addict. I have never lain my head on the street for slumber or been driven to prostitution or acts of craziness for cash.  My perspective is based wholly on being a witness to addiction. Sadly, most of the addicts that I see cannot talk. They are tiny babies born to moms who are addicts. I am a lowly administrative assistant in a small hospital on the east coast that helps babies born addicted wean from the drugs they are dependent on.  There are stories here…stories that some folks aren’t strong enough to tell themselves.  Yet.   Not strong enough YET.  I always say yet because as my young daughter tells me, anything can happen.  The first mama that I ever encountered was named Sharon  in 2010 . Sharon had a beautiful baby girl as well an older child which I never met but she talked about constantly. She was in her 30s and her story still haunts me.  It is amazing what people tell me. I really...

Endless Ancipation It's  6am  and all I can think about is scoring heroin...I'm not sure how I ended up in this situation, wait....that's a lie. I know exactly how this escalated to black tar. I followed that curious cat down the wrong alley, tripped, slipped and fell nose first into a pile of brown powder...well,fuck me....let's get this show on the road. 630 am "maybe he's awake, should I try calling?"  I mean, the sun is almost up and he MIGHT be up....That's the logic of an addict, I know damn well he won't be awake for at least 4 more hours..and that's still not likely, my call log is more like a continual spiral into drug craving madness. 745am While my cravings are completely mental, that voice in my head just won't shut the fuck up...That gorilla on my back weighs 800 lbs and he's a mean fucker when he doesn't get his way. He's a master manipulator and will speak to you smoother than a seasoned pimp mackin to a fresh bit...

I forgot to post the links when I did the official reddit podcast  Here . Follow and it will give you a variety of different ways to listen to the podcast