nightmare

sleep is welcome after a day like this.  as it closes in, a familiar feeling comes over her. she feels herself slipping, losing her grip on conciousness. tumbling toward darkness. but something’s not right. no, not this, not now… she opens her eyes and looks around. in bed, still awake. she breaths a sigh of relief and goes to sit up. what the fuck? she can’t sit up. she can’t even move her head.  paralyzed. completely motionless. hello…. she can feel him laying next to her, his chest moving up and down, mechanically.  she tries so hard to touch him, nudge him.  she’s not awake, but she’s not asleep. she’s in that place right before you fall asleep.  that place where you always end up falling…falling…only to jolt just before contact.  she’s in nocturnal pergatory. 

nonononono….wake up wake up. honey, help me, please help me. this happens alot to her.  just when your body gives way, surrenders over to oblivion…but she gets stuck.  stuck in this nowhere, her body has fallen asleep, but her mind is still awake, rushing, as a matter of fact.  physical self in sleep induced paralysis, and her mind in full blown panic.  this is worse than any nightmare could ever be. trapped inside your own head.

FUCK.  screaming inside her skull, knowing nobody hears her.  putting every neuron in motion, move your head.  can’t do it.  and that’s the weirdest, scariest part of the whole thing.  she’s not paralyzed at all, she can feel every inch of her body, she’s just powerless to move it.  she feels her body, laying on her back, facing the ceiling. she can see the walls around her, she even sees him laying next to her. she sees her arm resting on his stomach. but he may as well be in a phantom.  it’s like i don’t exsist.  the world lives around her, but she’s not there anymore.  she’s just an aparition, a bad dream. wake up wake up, don’t get stuck here. she’s flailing, trashing back and forth, writhing. in her spirit, though, not her body.  every second that goes by in this place feels like an eon.

wake the fuck up. wake up now. help me. goddamn it don’t do this. wake up.

she jolts forward, like she just woke from a nightmare.  but you have to be asleep for that.  the feeling of being fully concsious flows over her like warm water. “damnit” she whispers, mostly just to hear her voice out loud.  she reaches out and touches his arm.  there you are. so close, but so far away.

relief. to be out of that limbo.  but she’s so tired, and to get to sleep you have to pass through that place once again…hopefully she won’t get stuck again.  so tired…

at a loss for words

i haven’t written in so long, here or in my personal journal.  that is so not like me (whoever that is)  it’s mostly due to the fact that i  took an unscedualed sebaticle from reality.  i have no idea how we’ve been perpetuating it, but i can’t seem to get off this spun out merry-go-round.  every time i turn around, there is another person, another party, another shot…  along the way i aquired a habit yet again.  just when you have it down to a chipper, one good hard weekend, and i’m worrying about a bag for the morning.  ironically, i find myself here, in part, because i made it on the clinic.  there has been two week gap since my intake interview, and when they will start dosing me, next week.  during that time i need to be a) positive for opiates and b) negative for suboxone.  i didn’t know they checked that, but they do, so…as they string me along waiting for a spot, they strung me out. hehehe.  better than fiction.

i am working on some other posts, but i just don’t have it in me right now.  i’ll have to get back to you when i start thinking and feeling again.  for now, i’m just along for the ride.

whatever gets you off

 after the meyley  of molly and the follower’s mass exodus, the rest of wedenesday was quiet.  i made my way downstairs with alyson for dinner.  it’s funny, how like high school detox can be.  we each had our little group of friends we hung out with, we each had our tables we sat at at meals. it was a little cliquey, if i do say so myself.  molly was gone, but we liked matt, so he took her place in our little circle. 
as i began to eat, we were talking about people we knew back home you could cop from, and i noticed a noise next to me.

nobody sits there.  i looked over. curtis. he sits with his roommates. not today.

“kaia, now that molly’s gone, i don’t have anyone to talk to.  alot of the people here are assholes.”

“well.” i took a bite of mixed vegetables. “you look like a smart enough kid.  weed out the people you think suck, and focus on the ones that make your day go by.  that will make this process as painless as possible.”

“well, i guess i’ll just stick with you then.”  he smiled. he was blatantly flirting.  but that’s to be expected in places like this.  sober for the first time in how long?  the first thing to come back is your sense of the things around you. when you are on a hard run, you don’t really see things or people, you are so busy getting your jam on, none of that shit matters.  so you come out of the fog, and you start to engage in your environment. add to that the fact that you spend 18 hours a day locked up with one small group of people, crushes develop naturally. he was harmless, and i liked talking to him. so i spent lunch doing just that, bringing up casey at opportune moments. didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, right?

after lunch me and my detox crew went back to the tv room, and matt started talking about his girlfriend back home.

“you know, i really love her, i even asked her to marry me.”

“how many days had you been up for, speed freak?” lynn giggled. i had been right with my first impression, matt was a tweaker.  tweaker dope addict, good combo.

“very funny, it wasn’t like that, i really do wanna marry her.”
”gotta kick the diesel first.” i said, thumbing through a christmas cosmo.

“i know, and i feel really bad, cuz i got her started on the whole thing.”

“what, dope?”

“yeah,”

“ouch.” lynn said. even though she and i both had succumbed to similar fates. both turned onto the glamorous world of heroin by guys we were still with to this day.

“she must’ve know you were down with junk before you started dating, right?” lynn asked.
”did you know kurt was a junkie?” i asked, dumb question, everyone knew kurt, lynn’s boyfriend  was a junky. he’d been one for almost half his life.

“all i’m saying is she knew what she was getting into.” lynn said.

“yeah, she knew, she really wanted to help me get over it, too.” he said, looking sad.  “all she wanted to do was help me get clean, and where is she right now? smoking crack under a bridge at home. .”  that does suck.
“oh, so she’s one of those chicks.” lynn asked.

“what do you mean?”

“she’s into being the savior.  always getting in over her head with guys she wants to fix but cant.”

“you know.” curtis said. “everyone has their type. one certain thing that keeps popping up in relationships. something that you dig on in the opposite sex that you wish you could get over.”

“like me.” lynn said. “ i always get into it with the bad boys. motorcycles and bar fights, cheating, shit like that. it’s always fun at first, and after that its just  misery. but i can’t help it.  like kurt now, he’s the nicest guy i’ve ever dated, who just happens to be hooked on heroin.”
just like me.
“and me.” curtis said. “i always end up with these high maintenance chicks. at first it’s like i like to treat them good. i like to show girls places and things they don’t get to see otherwise. go on vacation, go shopping, to shows and shit. but i always fall for the girls who are materialistic under the surface.  sometimes there is no under the surface. my ex didn’t even care that i was a dope addict, as long as i kept my job and took care of her.”

“let me guess, that didn’t last.” i said.

“what tipped you off.”
i was intrigued now. “isn’t it weird, how the you fall in love with determine so much in your life, and you are completely helpless to it.”

“well, you can stay away from the people you know fit your profile.” lynn offered.

“have you ever done that? stopped and said ‘i can’t do this, you’re a bad influence on me.’  you can’t help what you like, or who you fall for, it’s ingrained.”

“so,  how about you kaia? what gets you?” curtis asked.

“addicts.” i said, without even thinking.  i was even caught off guard by it.

“nice.” he said. everyone laughed, but not me.  it really made me stop for a second. why the hell did i say that?
it was true. that’s why.  looking back on my life there is an overabundance of childhood traumas and assorted psychobabble to support this theory. my type was addicts.  from my father to my step father to my brother, all the men in my life i grew up with, loving and admiring, were junkies, drunks and cokeheads. 
when i was 12 i had a morbid fascination with kurt cobain. that was the year he died, and i was completely in love with the idea of him.  he was so perfectly tragic and poetic. damaged, just like me.  the drugs didn’t seem like a part of it then, but i see it now.  the struggle, the helpless feeling, the urge to just give up, let the drugs decide.
my exboyfriends read like a roster here at detox: coke dealer, rave promoter, two heroin addicts, and the abusive binge drinker.  i’d always just been drawn to it. the danger, the excess, the complete lack of responsibility. it was me and him against the world, living this counter culture life that nobody else understood or cared to. we were too cool for them anyway, right?
“and now.” i said, talking more to myself than lynn or curtis. “now that i’m a junky, it’s taken on a whole new, twisted version of attraction.”  now, i probably should’ve just stopped there, but i never know when enough is too much.  “now, junky guys actually turn me on.”

“what?” jacob had to sit down for this conversation.
”yeah, i don’t know when it started, maybe that’s the way it always was. skinny, subculture guys.  pale, with bleached hair, sickly looking kids.” a quick run of all the guys i’d dated scanned my memory. yep, that’s pretty close. “and now that i’m actually there, it’s taken on a whole new level. a level of understanding. i mean, what other person is really going to understand you?  everyone you meet, once they find out you’re a smack addict, that’s always how they’ll see you.  and why not, it’s true. but with another junky, that shit’s an afterthought. it’s common knowledge.  besides, i’ll admit it, i’m still too in love with the whole scene. meeting a guy, going on a completely out of control run.”

that keeps coming up…out of control. “

“you just like to be that far from reality.”  you know, that connection you think you’re making, it’s not real.” jacob said.

“reality is subjective, kid.” i said. “the whole idea scares me too.  i feel like i was fuct from the start. like my whole life was just a set up for me to be a junky and to be surrounded by them.  but if i meet a kid.” i looked at curtis. “and make a connection with them,” i put my hand out. “and i look down, and i see he’s got tracks.” i ran my fingers across his scars. “i do, i like it. i like him more because of it.”
everyone just sort of looked at me for a minute.
i don’t know, maybe i am fuct.  maybe i’m too far away from reality.  too wrapped up in getting high, having “fun”, sharing some sick junky bond with someone.  but you don’t know unless you’re there.  i like the fact there’s no need to explain yourself or make excuses.  and if it’s all you know its all you know. that’s why these vicious cycles perpetuate themselves. it’s human nature.
“that’s really too bad, kaia. i feel bad for you.” jacob got up and walked away.

“fuck him,” curtis said. “whatever gets you off, girl.  you can’t help yourself.”
i put my head back, and we watched tv. “no, i guess i really cant.”
 
 

suspended animation

 i got a comment on my blog a couple days ago that got me thinking. 
”why do you keep referring to yourself as a kid, aren’t you 22 or 23?”
the fact of the matter is, i’m 24, and the question opened my eyes to a phenomena i see every day, but never really noticed…. suspended animation.
i know you’ve either lived it, or seen it in action.  how life just seems to stop moving once you pick up dope.  you can blow coke and eat rolls, you can blaze weed and hit the bar scene every weekend. life keeps moving, sometimes erratic, sometimes faster than you’d like. but once you bring heroin into your life, life leaves you behind.
you either lose your job, or get stuck in some dead end job that was supposed to be “just til i get my shit together.  you lose your apartment, move back in with your parents.  you lose your car, or you license, or both. suddenly find yourself begging for rides like in junior high.  your cell phone gets shut off, and you feel like the only person in america that uses the payphone.  you haven’t had money for anything but dope in so long  that you’re wearing the same ratty hoodie you got for christmas senior year.
and you look around, and it’s not just you, your whole life is stuck.  the world spins on around you, but your life, your whole scene, is on pause.
my friend marc has been using since he was sixteen.  that’s 12 years.  looking at his life is like looking at a photo;  he’s never had his own apartment, he’s never had more than this minimum wage job he got out of high school.  he hasn’t had a girlfriend in ten years.  he lost his license when he was seventeen, and just never got it back, never had a car.  no bank account, no cell phone.  it’s like he just got off the bus, and it went on without him.
all the things i was trying to accomplish before the junk, they all got lost in the shuffle.  i put all my goals on the back burner, so i could focus my effort into my real ambition: to get my nod on.  now that i’m coming out of my coma and seeing all the damage i have caused, it seems so overwhelming.
so you start to think it would be easier to just start over. an easier, smaller, lower scale life. you are a junky after all.  certain things are just not possible anymore.  so, the shitbox  car is better than taking the bus.  the slummy apartment is better than mom’s basement.  a job is a job, even if you’re cleaning hotel rooms.  your goals are different, what you expect, what you deserve. 
you’re not an adult, you’re not a kid. you’re a junky. somewhere in between, where you trade your credit cards and atm card for the foodstamps card and the needle exchange card.  where the future seems so far away, and a good life is asking too much. 
so you hold onto whatever you have, because it’s all you have, until you pawn it or trade it. then you’re left empty handed again.  game over.
so yeah, i do call myself and my friends kids.  because we’re more kids than adults.  we are stuck, depending on others to help us survive, unable to take that next step
i got a postcard in the mail today for the class of 2000/2001 5 year reunion, and it reminded me of a joke we made alot in detox.  “sitting in the window, watching the world go by.”  because that’s what we do, as addicts.  sit back, with that needle in my hand, and watch the world go by.  watch life go by without me.  people graduating college, joining the army, people getting married, having kids.  i have friends buying houses, getting promotions.  and here  i am, worse off than when i was 20. 
so i can go to the reunion and say “not too much has changed, i’ve tried, but failed so far.  the only thing i’ve got to show is 30,000 in debt, hep c, and some killer stories.  in school i was gonna be a writer, a big one.  it was the one thing i thought i was good at, and i lost that too.  this blog is the first time i’ve written in years.
so for now, calling us kids fits to me.  and until the day i stand on my own feet, make my own money, control my own feelings, confront my own demons, i guess that’s the way it’s gonna stay.

domino effect

a few days had gone by since my arrival at chc detox, i was starting to consider myself comfortable there.  people came and went at this place like they had a revolving door downstairs. it was incredible to me how few people really completed. most often the case was that someone left ama (against medical advice) or got kicked out, and in either case, went right back to using. not your typical fairly tale ending, but cinderalla wasn’t a heroin addict, was she?

it was early in the morning, and at quarter to six they called morning dose. which was obviously, my favorite time of day.  i got out of bed, and made a pajama-clad bee line for the nurses station, leaving aly and molly sleeping soundly.  after my sweet medicine, i went to the common room to watch the news.  in reality, i liked the front row seat i got for the morning chaos that ensued each day like clockwork. i didn’t know what was going to happen, but i knew something would happen if i waited long enough.

it was about an hour after they started dosing, and they were finally done. this means everyone on the floor has been woken up, and my dose was working me over good. this is why i enjoy mornings here. i was sitting in the dark, contemplating the morning news, when i saw oldguy walk by. now, i don’t know everyone’s name in a place like this, nor do i care to. i usually pick an obvious nickname, to make identification simple as possible. i usually don’t call people these names to their faces, for reasons clear enough.  oldguy and his girlfriend short-n-blond had been there a couple days. they stuck to themselves. it seemed like they were serious about getting clean, but who knows really.

next thing i know here comes trollnurse down the hallway. she was in a rush, but i didn’t know why. trollnurse was everyone’s least favorite staff. she was midget short, had hair so curly it looked like she licked the inside of a toaster, and a voice that could peel paint.  having her around this early in the morning made me a little nausiated.

“come over here right now, ” she screeched at oldguy. they stopped right in front of me. see, i told you. we know drama.

“i smell that you know.” she snapped, pulling on his flannel shirt.

“smell what, you psycho.” ooooh, oldguy was pissed.

“you know very well what, ciggarettes.” trollnurse was pissed too.

now this is a practice i’m not in favor of,  the no smoking policy on the detox floor. i don’t smoke, so it doesn’t directly effect me, but i see my roomates and friends suffering, and i think its pointless. they are already trying to kick dope, why spring this smoking thing on them too.  not only that, but i was amazed at the black market that has sprung up as a result of this rule. people getting 3 dollars a piece for ciggarettes, even more for a lighter. it was a very lucrative business, if you could get in on the ground floor.  i even watched two kids attempt a covert mission to a bodega down the street, only to be found out when fatkid forgot to open the door back up and let them in. they were booted from the program immediatly.  it’s so funny, how kids who get away with armed robbery on the outside, get popped for smuggling butts in detox.

 and then, of course, there was this early morning drama unfolding.

“i haven’t had a butt all morning, bitch, can’t you tell.” old guy was visibly irritated.  “i’ve got nothing.”
“empty your pockets, simon.”

apparently, oldguy’s name was simon.

“fuck you.” straight forward enough.

“empty your pockets, or you can leave right now.”

“alright. go to hell slut. i didn’t come up here to be serched like i’m on the inside. you got nothing on me. you wanna boot me, go right a fucking head.” and with that simon oldguy was out. down the hall to pack his shit.

i was confused, cuz trollnurse really didn’t have anything on him. i was sitting right there, and i didn’t smell anything.

about that time, molly was up and about.  i ran over to tell her all about the nurse’s rampage and the subsequent casulties.

“well, kaia, that little troll has been making it her job to make life hell here for as long as i’ve been coming here.” molly said, rubbing sleep from her eyes.  “why would you even work here if you don’t want to deal with addicts.”

“secret vendetta against an addict father, or maybe she’s just too shitty a nurse to get a job, unless it’s in an underfunded, forgotton hole in the wall methadone hotel.”

“well, whatever it is, i’ve watched her kick almost ten people out of her, in my illustrious three visits.”

“stay the hell away from her. what else can you do.”

“go tell short-n-blond her man just got tossed.” molly said, smiling per usual, and ran down the hall.

 

i resigned myself to watching the detox world go by, and a few minutes later, molly and short-n-blond came out of a room at the end of the hall. molly stopped at the opposite end, at the door of a room occupied by two new kids. they had arrived the night before, and almost didn’t make it through the night. they too, had had an altercation will trollnurse. now that i was actually thinking about it, she was often times on someone’s case.  these two, glasseskid and angrydude were sharing a room, much to the dismay of trollnurse. i guess they had come in off a pretty hard run, which had ended with glasseskid’s mom dying. they were trying to clean up together to get it straight for funeral and shit. well trollnurse wasn’t gonna let them room together, and they weren’t staying unless they got their way. often times is the case in these microcosms, such small details become life or death end alls.  alyson and i talked them down, and staff leader let them room together. so, now trollnurse was on the warpath.  staff is nothing if not in control.

i had started to notice her additude more now that i was looking for it. rumors were swirling about oldguy getting tossed, and trollnurse was a junky hater.  you really did have to wonder, what brought a person like that to a place like this.

 and who made the real decisions, who stays, who goes, who gets help today and who gets put back on the street.

as i sat, pondering detox politics, i saw molly still standing outside glasseskid’s room asking him for a lighter.

yet another smoking related contraband item. way to make a big deal out of such a little problem.

about the time i was thinking that, trollnurse came shuffling down the hallway again, and grabbed molly by the back of her sweatshirt.

“what are you doing in  this room,  no girls in boys’ rooms. you know the rules, little miss popular.”

“i wasn’t in the room.”

she wasn’t.

“i was in the doorway.”

she was.

“that’s it, you  are done here.” troll nurse started walking back to the front desk.  molly was two steps behind her.

“what, you’ve got to be kidding me. i’ve got the inplant appointment in five days. you  can’t put me out on 15mg of methadone.”

“you should’ve thought of that before you broke the rules. now it’s your problem.” trollnurse was having none of it.

i couldn’t believe what i’d just seen.  trollnurse was gonna kick molly out for something she didn’t even do. i was right fucking there.

don’t get involved, this is none of your business. you’re going to jeopardize your own place for someone you met four days ago.

i had that thought as i was approaching the front desk.

“–i had to walk in and pull her off the kid’s bed.” trollnurse was talking to head of staff. straight up fucking lying, i might add.

now, i’m a grownup, or i’d like to believe that, and lesson number one in grownup school is “don’t believe everything you hear.” so i tried to be objective over trollnurse’s reputation. but i saw her lie to her boss, to get a girl she obviously didn’t like put on the streets.  vigilante nurse dispensing her own version of junk justice.  like she was just waiting for the opportunity. why is it, the smaller the environment, the bigger the drama scene?

here we go. “that’s not true. i was sitting right there. molly never went in that kid’s room.”

trollnurse just eyeballed me. wonderful.

“of course she’s going to say that, she’s the girl’s roomate.”

“oh, so now you’re calling me a liar. isn’t that ironic?”  i could play the stare game too.   seeing as i was five inches taller than the bitch, for once, i looked fierce. 

“okay, kaia, go back to the common room, you’ve done all you can.” my caseworker, karen, was also head of staff today. “don’t get caught up in the domino effect.” she put her hands on me and lead me back to the common room. i never let my eyes off that bitch nurse.

the domino effect is a coined phrase used in detox and programs. like any other place on earth, you stay there long enough you develop your own language.

example:

domino effect: you leave, i leave, lets all get high. one person gets kicked out, and three or four follow suit. everyone wants to get out, everyone wants to get high.

spin dry: the term used to  define a stay in detox not meant to keep you clean. when you go to take a couple days off, when you go to get off the street, when you go for a bed and three meals a day. when you go to get your head about you, knowing full well you are going right back to using.

detox nation: the microcosm that is detox and program life. the people you meet, the life you lead there. the seperate, completely unreal exsistance that is sober house living.

whatever. i walked back to the common room, just as simon oldguy and short-n-blond were signing out.  it all just seemed so fuct to me, to kick people out, people trying to get help; over something so petty. 

the next couple of hours were a complete clusterfuck.  molly took full advantage of her dilema, making as big a deal of the whole scene as she could.  now glasseskid and angrydude were gonna leave if she got kicked out, in protest of course.  sure, it had nothing to do with the fact that she was gonna cop as soon as she got off chc property. 

domino effect in full swing.

i watched everyone pack, watched them fight with the nurses, talk up each other, go on and on about being a second class citizen, ‘you don’t treat cancer patients like this’. standard shit.  and it just struck me, we are supposed to be her for one thing; to clean up. but that seemed to be the furthest thing from anyone’s mind. we were all caught up in meeting new people, making new connections, planning our post-release runs. what a fucking joke.  defending our honor to these played out staff, protecting each other from inflated wrong doings. it was all so plastic.
when all the dominos fell, six people left. 
i stood at the nurse’s station, saying goodbye to molly.

“good luck, girl.”

“yeah, right.” she shrugged.

“you’re really leaving with those guys?” curtis pointed to glasseskid and angrydude. they were fidgiting with their backpacks, eager to get on the elevator.

“yeah, they know a guy uptown.”
”they always do,” i said, sighing.  “be careful, please. you don’t really know them.”

“i’m a big girl, but thanks.”

you’re really not that big.
and with that, they left, down the elevator and gone forever.  she left with those two kids cuz she needed a place to stay for a couple days. so her parents wouldn’t know she’d gotten booted from detox again.  it all just perpetuated the problem.  let’s get ready for one more go-round. just one more ride, one more run.  it all left me feeling really drained.

but the dominos fall both ways, and six empty beds means six new bodies. 

i went back to the common room with curtis, and we ran into the first new kid of the day.  he was short, with short hair. my first impression of him that of a tweaker. this kid’s gotta be a methhead.

“hi, i’m matt.” he said

“i’m kaia, this is curtis.”

“so, what are you in for?” curtis asked as we all sat around the big table.

“i’m kickin the clinic.” matt said.

“what? the methadone clinic?”
”yep.”

“how’s that? i thought the whole purpose of the clinic was to get you off drugs, to get you clean.” curtis asked.

“that’s where they got you, man. the clinic was bomb, but they got me on a megadose, and i pissed dirty. so i got booted, and coming of the clinic is just as bad as dope.”

“so you failed a drug test?”

“yep, for coke.  so here i am, haven’t done dope in almost a year, and i’m kickin one of the worst habits i’ve ever had.”

you learn something new everyday.
we sat around for a while, getting to know each other a little better.  over the next three hours, i also ran across the daves on my floor. the daves are two kids from my hometown that i used with on a semi-regular basis.  they were best friends, shared the same first and last name, and a moderate dope habit. no relation, though.

small world.

“so matt, do you wanna come down and meet my roomate alyson.”

“alyson from central mass?” matt asked.
”yeah, why?”

“blond girl, chinese symbol tattoo on her wrist.”

“yeah.”

“no way, i used to run with her up here in the city years ago.  wicked cool chick. she used to have this boyfriend that scared the shit out of me.”

smaller world.
as we came down to my room, alyson was on the bed, with lynn.  yes, lynn, the girl casey and i had stayed with over the summer, while we did our short stint as homeless kids.

this is just fucking weird now.
“oh my god, matt.” alyson got up and hugged him.  what followed was a very heartwarming scene, hugging and reminicing.

“lynn, what the fuck happened?” i asked, “what are you doing here?”

“i could ask you the same thing.” she laughed.

“hey, “ matt, looked at lynn. “don’t i know you?”

“yeah, i live right down the street from you.  you cop from allen?”

“yeah, that’s right.” matt smiled. 

i guess that’s all part of it, in life, and this life especially.  people come and go so quick.  you don’t ever really get close to anyone.  you’re always using people, being used. you share your deepest secrets, most personal stories with these kids, but it doesn’t ammount to anything.  and once you look around you and see that everyone you really do know is gone, and you are just surrounded by drug buddies.  here in the last two hours, were five people i use with at home.  you can’t escape it. and now the chances of completing treatment, and not using went from slim to none. everywhere you look, there it is.
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

living in the public eye

The answer please, Will not occur to me
The secrets of our lives, Are there for all to see
The innocence of our lies, That come so naturally,
So how to get out of…
Livin’ in the public eye?

She came to me last fall
I was drinking Joe and smoking Strikes
Now I moved out of the hall, but now Java, switched to lights
Time’s a ticking, this charade
Hidin’ clues left and right
Didn’t know that masquerade, was hiding them all out of sight
So how to get out of…
Livin’ as a private eye

When dreams escape reality
They never get where you need them to be
Distorted views of what we all see
How should we except the plea?
Forgiving as the days go by.
Forgiving as the days’ goodbye.

Just like that I’m on the run
But my past out to play.
I’m still chasing the sun,
For yet another day

db-spy

the great denial

time goes by so slow in detox.  most of the time all you have to do is talk.  you really get to know these people well.  it’s a very unique dynamic.  very surreal.  you are dropped in a controlled environment, with people you don’t know.  your real life seems so far away, all the problems you left behind.  this new world is all that matters at the time.

so, as i sat in the common room, coloring in my journal with crayons, a kid i’d seen around the halls sat across from me.

“so, what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

oh, here we go, 101 cheezy addict pickup lines.

“uh, coloring.”

“nah, i’m just joking around, my name’s jacob.”

“hi, i’m kaia.”

he made himself comfortable, and started talking to me about molly and other happening since he’d arrived.  he seemed nice enough, so we made conversation.  a couple minutes later, molly and curtis sat down, and we all started swapping mundane facts about ourselves. but, as is so often the case, the conversation ultimately turned to drugs.  we all have our war stories, and soon we were all laughing, i liked these kids.

“so curtis, what about you, how long have you been using?” i asked.

“about a year.”

“really, me too.”  we were all about the same age, and were fairly fresh junkies, so we had alot of experience to relate. except for jacob. i hadn’t noticed it, but he was just sitting there, with his arms crossed, listening.

“it’ll tell you what i’d kill for right now.” molly giggled. “a nice fat shot of dope.”

there she goes, opening that door.

“oh, no darlin.” i can’t help myself. ” how about a nice heavy dose of cocaine for your head.” i get all tingly when i think about it. “that thick, yellow tinged water filling up your barrel…that feeling in your stomach right before, that pinprick you feel on you skin.  that little rosebud of blood you see, and how it all burns away as you push down. that ringing in your head, the pounding in your heart, leaves you slack-jawed.”

i stopped talking and looked around. the table was silent, these kids were practically drooling.

“i’m a speedball kinda kid.” curtis said, but before we could even address that subject, jacob finally spoke.

“what is up with you guys?”  he asked, but was looking right at me. 

okay, what the problem here?

“you act like its cool to be here. you act like its all a big joke.”

“come on, jacob, part of being here is talking about it.”

“like its a free vacation, and not a crippling disease.”

“okay, captain recovery. you’ve been here all of three seconds. we’re not perfect, we’re still new at this too.”    feeling a little offended here. who the hell is this guy to be all judgemental on us?

“i’m just not all about drugs, like you guys.”

“okay, so if you’re so against illicit drug use, what landed you at this dayspa?”

“what is that supposed to mean?”
“okay, i’ll start slow for you; hi,  my name is kaia, and i’m a heroin addict.”

“hi, kaia!!” the rest of the table piped in right on cue.

“now it’s your turn, kiddo.” we laughed, he didn’t.

“fine, whatever. pills. i do pills.”

“okay, that’s a good start. so how long have you been an addict, junky, whatever.”

“i’m not a junky.”

“um, okay, i thought you just said pills. oxycontin, right?”

“yeah, mostly.”

“and you are on methadone here, right. how much?”

“60mg.” twice my dose, coming in on a gram a day habit.

“so you’re in detox to kick opiates, on a decent dose of methadone to keep you straight, but you’re not a junky?”

“whatever, it’s not the same.” he went on to explain: he’d gotten into a car accident (a fairly common, and sad story i hear) like lots of people, he had chronic pain and a long recovery, which ended up in an unexpected addiction.

 

that sucks, and i really did feel for the kid.  

the rest of his story was also really familiar to me. i had also started on pills. not because of an accident, but innocently enough.  with him it was just for pain at first, then he started to see that he functioned better on them, felt better.  because when you first start eating pills, life is great.  you can work harder and longer. people actually comment on the effort you’re making.  you are more fun at parties, you have more sex for longer periods.  you’re never tired, you’re never bored.  you wonder how you ever got along without them.  then one day you see, you can’t get along without them.  you feel a little shitty when you skip a day.  then you start to get a little panicked when the pharmacy doesn’t have your script. finally your doctor cuts you off and you hit the streets, on the hunt, just like me.  but you can’t be a junky, they’re just pills. 

that is about where jacob was at.  oxycontin denial.

“i was just like you, man. don’t judge me, and i won’t judge you. okay?”

“but, you see, that’s where you’re wrong.  i’m not like you. we may have started in the same place, but i won’t end up where you did.  i choose not to let it go any further.”

“no kidding.” jacob had a friend in here, jenna, also a pill popper. i had seen her sitting with him at meals and in groups. but had never spoken to her, until now. “what you do is so disgusting, sticking fucking needles in your arm. you are gross.”

this statement was not just aimed at me, and i wasn’t about to let her insult everyone in the room. “excuse me?  where do you get off saying that shit to us?”
“whatever, you brought it on yourself. i don’t know how you could ever do that shit.” she pointed at me, and then molly. “otherwise normal looking girls, with those revolting tracks on your arms. i mean, seriously, heroin? who does that?”

“uh, kids who used to pop pills.” curtis said, he was getting pissed, and i could see it.

“newsflash, jen, you’re in detox. you are withdrawing from opiates. you are here for the same reason we are.  i’m confused, how do  you figure you’re better than me cuz you snort lines and i use a needle?”

“i’m obviously more in control that you are.”

molly got in on this one. “oh, okay, so you think one day i stopped with my head over a couple lines of OC and said ‘duh, i should really just cut to the chase and get myself some heroin, cuz i know i’m headed there sooner or later.  nobody does that.”

“none of us is in control, that’s why we’re here.” curtis said.

i just wanted her to understand, “all my life i had that additude. ‘i can do a little coke, or eat x once in a while. but never too much. and never go too heavy. never heroin.  you get into pills real slow. percs, vics. OCs come later, and that’s okay too, as long as it’s in moderation.  then one day there are no pills around, only dope.”

“see,” she snapped. “i won’t put myself in that situation.”

“you are already there.” i said softly. “you don’t see that?”

“don’t you have any self control?” jacob asked.

“why, is that what got you here, your stellar self control?” molly laughed.

“nobody plans it.”
“well, we’re here now, and this is it for me.” jacob said.

“i really hope so, man” i looked around, “raise your hand if this is at least your fifth attempt at detox.”  i got about six hands out of the room. “raise your hand if you started on pills.” i raised my hand, as well as almost everyone else in the common room. “and last but not least, famous last words:’ okay, i’ll try blowing it, but no fucking needles.” every junky in the room raised their hand. i wasn’t trying to be a bitch or make them feel stupid, i just want them to know the statistics.

it’s sad, but we’ve all been there. we always want to think we’re the exception. i’m gonna be the one to get better. i’ll never be as bad as that kid. i can party once in a while, and it will be okay.  but the truth is, there is always a chance you could fuck it up.  if you put yourself there, you may stop one day and wonder how you got that needle in your hand.

“so what are you saying, we’re doomed to be heroin addicts, like you guys?”

“chill out, jen.” jacob said.

“no. all i’m saying is that the more you deny what you’re problem is, the more vunerable you make yourself to the whole thing.” i looked at jacob. “as long as you deny that you’re a junky, opiate addict, whatever, the further away from recovery you get.”

“you don’t know us.” jenna said.

you don’t really know each other either.

“no, i don’t. but i do know your addiction.”

it’s funny, how even people who have so much in common still try to find away to put themselves above those around them. it seems ridiculous now, but that was me a year and a half ago. ‘i pop pills or whatever, but at least i’m not a heroin addict.’

the sad part is, you can try to tell them nice, or be an asshole about it. it does matter. people will always think you’re nuts. they won’t believe you, they won’t understand, until they are there. and then it’s too late.

i hope i’m wrong. i really do.