in my spare time

i?ve been trying not to get high so much lately. my dealer went to detox, and we are trying to save money for vacation. i thought i was going to be miserable, and bored. i?m not working, so i thought sobriety would drive me slowly insane.
in actuality, i?ve been doing yoga, meditating. i?ve gotten two interviews for jobs next week, and i?ve been reading, alot of spiritual, energy work stuff. i?ve signed up for classes in the fall, and i?ve been spending alot of time outside, with my brothers and casey.
its been so long since i?ve CHOSEN to be sober, and it feels so good.
but we slipped up today. and i feel only about half as bad as i think i should . isn?t that how it always is, during the honeymoon phase. when you don?t have a habit, and everytime you get bags you get super fucking high. i shot up after lunch, and i was jammed until almost eight. it was nice. really nice.
but that?s how it gets you. seduce you with both ends of the cycle. in the beginning, you feel so good about yourself, clean, doing things, learning things, being a whole person again. and then when you do get high, it?s so goddamn good, you start to think ?well, if i could keep it like this, just get high in my spare time, then i?d have it made.?
but that?s impossible, the scale always tips, and you are back to copping everyday, just to get straight, not even to get high. you are back to being broke and seeing your family in your spare time instead of seeing your dealer in your spare time.

but i don’t want to see it that way. each step you take gets you that much closer to your goal, no matter how small.

i want to see this as the beginning of the end, not just another trip on the carousel.

flashback

way before i ever stumbled into the land of opiates, i had a love afair with a girl called “crystal” the following in something i found scribbled on a napkin in a tweaker house i was staying at…i thought it was worth saving.

empty eyes and washed up dreams,

lifetime of unfulfilled need

fallen sunshine, remember the coast

friendly faces, but who do you know??

red faces, different stages

can’t seem to stay away from these fuct up places

my body’s on fire, my life is a mess

i’m sick of these memories

i can’t seem to forget

07/10/2000

the piggy bank

it was friday, and i was on the hunt again.  casey and i called up our dealer, kristi, and most of our money was spent in less than an hour.
we found ourselves in a familiar situation, sitting in kristi’s living room, getting high, swapping gossip.
i don’t know if it’s a junky thing, or just people in general, but whenever i get high with anyone, the topic always falls to whoever’s not there that day. he said she said bullshit.  i do my best to stay out of it, putting in my occasional “no way, he really said that?” with fained outrage, while doing my best to just enjoy my ride.
that was the attitude i had on friday, until kristi started in on a pretty juicy story involving our friend marc.  it sounded like a good one, so i finished fixing myself, and got comfy for story time.
marc is a good friend of ours.  about 26 years old, lives w/ his parents, always has.  he’s been using on and off for about 10 years.  he’s had some impressive runs with clean time, but it never really works out for him.
mary is a friend of his we get high with sometimes.  she’s his age, and her history is pretty similar, with some important differences.  her parents are loaded, and just so happen to look the other way when she pilfers their wallet for money to cop.  they also take care of her two young kids while she bed hops the poshest rehabs in the state.  her addiction has been a somewhat comfortable one.
marc and mary have been friends since they started getting high, early in high school.  so when thursday came, and mary called him on the phone, it was part of a pretty long string of dope binges they’d been going on.  she’d already called me three times that day, but i’ve been trying to cut down on weekday using.  even though she usually treats, i let it ring, and i’m really glad i did that, now.  but marc can never say no, and mary knows that.
mary gets to his house, and lays the catch on him. “i actually don’t have any cash today, marc”

“what do you mean? then why did you come all the way over here for?” marc is irritated already.

“well, i’ve got an idea. if you can spot me til tomorrow.” famous junky last words.

“but i’m broke, mary, i don’t get paid til tomorow.” marc’s mind was racing by now. money money money money.  you know, that frenzy you get into when getting high is dangled in your face like that.  “there’s the piggy bank.”
in marc’s parents living room they keep one of those big spring water jugs they call the piggy bank. it’s for his niece, and they put change and spare bills in it, and every couple of months they put it in her savings account. marc never touches it, unless faced with extenuating circumstances, like these he faced on this day. he always has the money back before anyone can notice. .
so he took about a hundred dollars in bills and quarters, and they went to the city. next thing you know, they are sitting in kristi’s living room, setting up shots.
“thanks so much, marc, you are always down to party.” mary said, tying off her arm. “ i get my welfare check tomorrow, and that money will be back before your mom gets home from work.”

“yeah, cool, mary, that’s fucking imperative”
so everyone gets off nice, and the conversation falls on that inevitable topic: getting clean.  i don’t know why, but if you get a bunch of junkies high, all they want to talk about is getting clean.
“i’m so sick of this shit, you guys.” kristi starts alot of talks this way “i’m calling detoxes tonight”

“yeah, i know what you mean, always broke, no one trusts you. i’m already on a list for a bed in boston:” mary said, which is ironic, cuz she’s never broke, and her parents never question her. and mary’s always on a list for a bed, so i can see why there were no red flags for marc.  she dropped him off at home about an hour later, with a promise to call friday morning, as soon a she got her check.
can  you see where this is going?
right about this time, the phone rings at kristi’s house. it’s marc.  he’s looking for suboxone, cuz he’s broke, and he’s sick, and guess who’s not answering her phone today?
i can’t help but get involved now, it’s all too fuct up. so i tell marc i’ll call mary’s parent’s house.
“hello”

“hi, this is kaia, is mary home?”

“no darlin, mary’s in a program in the city.  she’ll be gone for a while.”

“oh, well that’s good for her, when did she get the call from them?”  come on, take the bait….
“i think she got the call monday, she wanted to wait til her welfare check came, so she could buy some food for the girls, then she went shopping on wednesday, and left for the program early this morning.”
jackpot.
“well, thanks, maybe i can go up to visit some weekend”

“yeah, maybe, thanks sweety, bye now.”
i hung up the phone and shook my head at casey.  what a fucking hustle.  it was gonna suck to tell marc he got played so hard. mary used “shopping” as code for copping dope.  so she got high with all her welfare money, then used marc for his money, knowing she wasn’t gonna get him back, and was leaving for rehab the next morning.
you gotta hand it to her, she played it like a true criminal.
so i picked up the phone to call marc.  silly boy; no matter how long you’ve been getting high with someone, if they’re a hustler, you could always be the mark.

looking up from the bottom

so, we have been super broke for the past month or so. casey and i are at the end of our rope. i haven’t worked since may, and we’ve lost everything. the basement we were keeping our worldly posessions in while we are staying with my parents, it has some kind of moisture problem, and everything i own is covered in mold. its a sad death for things. taking it all out of boxes, deciding which pieces to try to clean off, and which ones should be put out of their misery. it’s hard to let go of the past.

i’m trying to stay positive. i believe it all happens for a reason, and maybe this is the only way i was going to let go of the past, to have it ripped out of my clutching hand. so next time i move, i won’t bring any of that useless baggage with me. no old notes from high school, no stuffed animals from abusive exboyfriends, no blankets from childhood that should’ve been garbage years ago. none of that shit. just me and casey and our new begining. i’m starting to feel better about it all.

we are supposed to be getting our car put on the road next week. i see this as a mixed blessing. see, we’ve been doing better staying clean, without a car. i guess that goes without saying, but it’s true. we even saved up the money we needed to give our tour friends for camp bisco. (a summer festival we’re going to, we rented a house, and needed 200.00 for the down payment.) we actually handed them the money yesturday, it was such a huge thing. i was so proud of us. we held onto that money, didn’t call anyone, didn’t spend it. i know it’s not alot, but it made me proud. because everyone says the last thing to go is the things you really love to do. when you start using instead of going on vacation with your mom, or when you use instead of snowboarding. when you give up who you are for what you use. if we don’t go to shows, we are hopeless junkies. but we can still get it together for tour, and that means alot.

so i sortof don’t want to put the car on the road. because that will give us that freedom back. sure, i’ll get a job, but that’s just more money to spend on shit. i don’t want to be negative, but i know how it works. we aren’t using cuz we can’t. no money no car. give us the car, which leads to money, and you have two addict on the hunt again. the probability is overwhealming.

i hope it doesn’t end up that way. i’m not saying i’m gonna be perfect, i just don’t want to go back to an everyday habit. that cosuming hunt for dope that kills the idea of doing anything else. “what, go grocery shopping, not unless i get high first”

looking up from the bottom, i see alot of possibilities, some good some bad. it’s up in the air, which way it will go… but at least we got our money for camp. that’s a start.

sick of it all

i guess it goes without saying, but this life can get real old. i’m just fed up with it all. with not having an apartment, not having my car on the road, not having anything.

i’m sick of arguing with the love of my life over half a bag of dope, i’m sick of being dopesick, seeing him sick. i’m sick of getting ripped off and not trusting my friends. i’m sick of lying to my mom and hiding my arms. i’m sick of applying for jobs and worrying about whether or not i’ll pass their piss test.

i’m sick of trying so hard to stay clean all week, and blowing it all on payday. i’m sick of getting high and then hating myself once the needle is out of my arm. i’m tired of being a cliche. little junky girl.

i’m tired of people hearing you are a junky, then automatically assuming they know you. “all you people are the same.” and they think that you’re problem gives them free reign to cut you down, say whatever they want. you’re not a real person, afterall, you’re a junky.

i’m tired of family and friends giving me that look. like i’m a terminal cancer patient. ” it’s so sad, she was so young” i’m sick of people giving up hope on me.

i’m sick of being the only who thinks i can change. i’m sick of noone else thinking two weeks clean is a big deal. unless i’m perfect, unless i’m flawless, it’s a waste of time.

i’m sick of feeling like i have to answer to everyone. and i guess that’s where my real problem lies. if you are gonna try to beat this shit, you have to do it for you, noone else.

the funny thing is, it didn’t even occur to me that i was trying to beat it until just now. i haven’t really stopped to think of it until now. i’m struggling, really struggling, with my addiction. i just never admitted it before. it’s all fun and games til you’re a heroin addict. then the rest of your life will be a struggle.

a friend of mine

this is a letter i recieved from a friend, doing 9 months for parole violation.

dear kaia:

what you said last time about us being down, it doesn’t sound dumb coming from you, nothing does. i understand everything you say to me, how you feel, everything you go through, i’ve been through in this life of sticking needles in my arm (legs, feet, neck, whatever) for over 13 years now. i just hope you never have to get to the point i have; working the streets, coming to jail, getting raped, beaten, watching a person die right in front of me. just living the life i do. it doesn’t bother me anymore. i have become comfortable in this world i would wish on no one. but that feeling of being numb, not caring, is so much better than the pain i hold inside. i don’t use to be high, i use so i don’t have to care. to be so fuct up i don’t know what the hell is going on. you didn’t see me back in december when i first got arrested, only in march when they let me out for a two week high. i was just getting started, kaia. when i use i use to kill myself. i don’t stop, i don’t sleep, i don’t eat. marc can tell you how i get, it’s sick. but i still look out for my friends as best i can, as long as i’ve got no shitbags around me like my co-defendant trying to rip my friends off. i seriously would’ve died if i didn’t get arrested in december. you could see every bone in my body. i was in a cocaine psychosis. my grandmother just died. i was on 145mg of methadone a day, still shooting dope, eating xani-footballs and doing huge coke shots. i hadn’t slept in god knows how long, i shot up with pond water and got a huge bacterial infection in my whole body. i had to go to the hospital everyday for IV antibiotics for a month. you wanna see a junky you don’t ever want to become. i have a heart of gold for other people, even if you’re using, but i hate myself. and i use to die. i don’t ever want to see my friends like that.

when i read that my heart broke. this girl is only three years older than me, she’s been a streetwalker for probably three years, she’s told me stories that made me cry right there in front of her. and it didn’t have to be this way, but it is. what can you do, except keep writing, cuz at this point it’s like holding the hand of a terminally ill friend. you know there’s nothing you can do, but be there, and try to make their last moments hurt a little less.

hold onto this one

some incredible moments today. it was a beautiful day today. we went up to the ocean, and i just soaked it all up. i felt really close to nature, which wasn’t easy due to the hundreds of little kids and clusters of litter strewn across the beach. but i managed to block it out and really embed myself in the feel of me and the scenary. the wind on my skin, the water on my feet as i walked up and down the lowtide sandbar. i could filter out the screams and horns honking and just hear the soft rush of the ocean and the cawing of the seagulls. it was a much needed escape from the hustle of everyday life. and now that i’m home, slightly sunburnt and risidually elated, it’s a good feeling.

and the best part, to me anyway, was that i was completely clean. i took my suboxone this morning and i haven’t gotten high all day. to be able to just feel and be in the moment, it meant alot. to spend a day free and clear of dope, free of being on the hunt. i know it’s not alot, and we did a bundle last night before bed.so it’s not like i’m on a “sober living” kick. but i would’ve rather done it all last night, and had this clean, spiritual moment on the beach, than have taken bags to the beach and been numb all day. life is just a bunch of little moments strung together like beads. some are gonna be fuzzy, or bland, and some will be vibrant. this one here will be a nice one.

always tomorow

i was thinking about some of the negative comments i got on my “sad conclusion” post. i still think it’s retarded to think you can throw stones, but i do feel the need to stop making excuses and get back on my chosen path.

it’s funny how people can be so mean, and still i can find inspiration is the cruelty. but that’s what you have to do in life, find the good in whatever you are handed.

i have an appointment to see a lady about starting a new school program, for holistic heath and beauty studies. i’m really excited. i’ve always been a “new age kid” if you’ll excuse the terminology. so i’m looking forward to being able to channel my talents into something real i can do with my time to make a living.

i also put in some applications for jobs, while i’m in school. my mom has been really supportive, and i’m happy with the way things are going at home now. it was tough for a while, but i know they are just concerned about me. i really don’t know what they are going through, i’ve never been on the other side of addiction.but we are making an effort to keep the using to a minimum. we got a new suboxone script, and we are only getting high maybe two days out of the week, weekends usually.

yesturday was casey’s birthday. 28 years old. a newer friend of ours, mary, picked us up and got us high to celebrate. we went to the city and scored pretty easy, which was a relief. i did two bags, and it was a little too much. next thing i knew i being pulled out of the car, and casey’s holding my hand, making me walk in circles around the parking lot. they are both looking real worried.

“are you okay, kaia, drink some more water” rubbing my back and pushing the hair away from my face. he hands me the water bottle, and i took a couple really small sips.

i knew i was fine, but i also knew i was close to the edge. i’ve never gone out before, but i think this is how it would feel right before. my heart must’ve been pounding, but i couldn’t feel it. everything looked really fuzzy, and the voices were far away sounds. my body was so hot, my skin flushed. it was a scarry feeling. and i kept thinking over and over. not on casey’s birthday, not on casey’s birthday.

but i came back through, and we drove home. after that first couple minutes it was all good.i felt that mellow good high that we are always chasing. we went back to the house, and just hung around. not a huge 4th celebration, just us, pleasantly high, enjoying each other’s company. out by the pool, talking with my brother and his friends. we had some cake and listened to music.

and that’s what really matters to me, not what anyone else thinks, or what some online asshole has to say. i know i’m doing my best with my life, and i’m thankful for what i do have, casey, my family, and a very few, select real friends, who like me as i am.

we took our suboxone today, and i feel good. it’s not everyday i have the conviction to have money in my pocket and not spend it on dope. but i did it today. i wish i could bottle this feeling.

when you feel like you can really do it. really get clean (or at least cleaner than you were before) and accomplish the other goals you have. when you feel like people are proud of you, and you are proud of yourself. i wish i could bottle it, and take it out when i feel vunerable or sad, weak. then i could remember how confident i was, and maybe not get so down on myself.

but you can’t. so i’ll just live it now, and be thankful i even have moments like this. not everyone has moments like this. they key is to stretch the moments out, make it all happen little by little. then i won’t need to remind myself, i’ll just feel it.

a sad conclusion

i guess it took some time, less than a year, but i’ve finally admitted the truth. there is no glory in trying to be an honest junky.

it may sound stupid, but i’ve always prided myself of being the “true friend” kind of addict. i don’t really see straight up dealers. pull over on the side of the road, “what you need” kind of shit. i’ve got a group of friends, as i like to call them, that i cop with, and its usually their guys. so i spend alot of time w/ these people, and it becomes more than business. or at least i’ve liked to think so.

i was always a believer that if you treat people decent, they will do their best to return the favor. but its not really like that, is it?

i was friends with one kid for months, scoring everyday. at one point in time i owed him about 700 dollars. he was moving to florida and said he needed the cash in a week. most of our friends would’ve kissed him goodbye and been thankful to be able to skip out on the bill. i worked my ass off to get him every sent before he left his driveway. because i promised, and he needed it. this same kid, home now after smoking all the money freebase style, has owed me 30 bucks for over a month. nice.

i have a good friend, a really good friend, who works part time pushing d. we hang out alot, and anytime i cop w/ him i make sure he gets his due. (usually just a bag) and i mean, we help each other out. if i’m sick he’ll front to me, but he always see his on payday. i once owed him $40 for like a week, but that’s the longest it’s gone. twice in the past week i’ve let him “borrow” bags to sell to someone else, and twice he’s left me sick while he gets high at home on what was supposed to be my payback. this from someone i stayed with for a week and babysat his kids.

a kid i’ve been friends with way before dope was born to me, has owed me $120 for almost two weeks now. he knows we needed the money to not only cop, but to live on this week. thank god for foodstamps or i’d weigh alot less that 107 right now. he’s told me he was coming over to hook me up 3 times today, and now his phone is off. i know he has the money. i know he’s putting it in his arm. he knows i’m sick. it doesn’t matter.

i’ve seen people give me water shots after a long night of coke, i’ve seen my boyfriend short me on bags. i’ve seen a friend of mine straight up steal a bundle from a girl who took him off the streets.

i always thought it was good business, to hook people up. so when they can do the same, they’ll think of you. but it really only opens the door for people to shit on you. once kids start lying, cheating, and stealing, no one is safe.

i’m not perfect either, though. i’m not trying to be some junky martyr. i don’t have a job and i feed my habit off my boyfriend. i’ve told my mom money was for suboxone and used it to get high. we’ve owed a good friend 300 dollars since winter, and we used the fact that he won’t talk to junkies as an excuse to not pay.

it’s sad to watch the worst come out in people you really care for. in yourself. and i feel helpless to stop it. you really are a slave. to the dope, to the lifestyle, to your own weakness. those few minutes of bliss will make you turn your back on your whole belief system. what is right, anymore?

so i’ve come to a sad conculsion. there is no honor amung thieves, and there is no such thing as an honest junky.