the one woman show

i feel like i’ve been so busy lately. i don’t know if that’s true, or if my life speed is just slower than reality right now. i’m finally rejoining society after a six month hiatus in junknation. (you know, that place you stay at when you are living rock bottom)  while you’re there it’s like real life doesn’t exsist, you watch people go to and from work, go shopping, do family things or go out with friends, and it all seems so foreign.  because in junk nation, your full time job is being an addict, you divide your time into hustling money, copping, getting high or getting straight (which are two totally different things) and being sick. that pretty much takes up every day.  all the people you know are marks for hustles, kids you cop with, and dealers. it’s hard to do anything else, like help your mom at home, or find a job, cuz you’re too busy working your habit. time passes, and before you know it, it’s been six months, and you have not moved an inch.  there is a list of things i wanted to get done in my life. its small and very simple, requiring about 500 dollars total.  i havn’t done one of them, it’s been almost a year.

so, suffice to say, i was lost.

now, i don’t know how anyone here feels about the methadone clinic, but the way i see it, recovery comes many times in many different ways to everyone. and if you see a possibility for some clean time, take it, no matter what. that’s progress.  if it gets you on the bus and out of junk nation, it’s a good step. so i got on the clinic here, the closest one is about 15 minutes up the highway from home.

things have improved dramatically in only the short time it’s been. i finally found a job and love it. i am working with people again, which is what i love, and there is a good chance they will pay for me to finish school.

but just as things are starting to look good, something always comes down on me to make it hard again. my mom’s car, which she’s been generously letting me use, got repo’d the other day. so now, even getting my clinic fix is a struggle. finding rides, or missing doseing all together, which means using dope that day, cuz you can’t go without. (every program has it’s bad points, right.) so i’m doing my best, but it’s not easy, i’m already one step away from being on restriction, because i keep missing programs. can you believe that, i finally want to commit to this, and they want to kick me off cuz i don’t have a ride.

the kicker is, on my life of things i want to do but don’t, there is the car.  casey and i have a car sitting in the yard that needs about 200 bucks to put it on the road, we just don’t ever do it. now the pressure is really on.  it’s funny but it’s really just sad, because i can’t complain, i did it all to myself.

the weirdest part of all of this is the way i feel. coming out of a junky sebatical isn’t easy, because everything you were running from or avoiding or pushing down inside is standing there, in a big crowd, waiting to be dealt with. and you have all these feelings that have been numb for so long, and it hits you all at once. i’m thinking about things i did so long ago that i never really thought about. people i hurt, scams i ran. i figured i just didn’t care anymore. well, i do, i just didn’t know it. and it sux. that shit does’nt go away when you get clean, it comes on, quite vivid. you feel scummy and mean, you don’t even know yourself. i wonder sometimes how it will be, once i’ve got some good clean time.

you know, like when someone gets into a car accident. it takes time, and they recover, but they are never quite the same. i wonder what kind of permanant damage i caused.

and i can’t shake this feeling of being so damn tired. like i’m running the show all alone. casey has been working so many hours. he has a suboxone appointment next week. this has been tearing us apart lately, cuz i’m really trying to work the clinic, and he’s been using all along. i mean, what can he do? he was buying suboxone off the street and he was clean almost two weeks, but those run out, and he did start with dope again, but i know he’s committed to his program, we just need to ride it out til the 29th. it’s just hard to see him high, you know.  so i feel sortof alone in this right now.

and there is something really weighing on me, something that scares me alot, that i haven’t really talked to anyone about. my mom. casey and i have been living at home for a while now, and mom has been super understanding about our addiction. she doesn’t wanna see it, and she takes our word that we’re clean ( i don’t like to lie, but i know she prefers it.) so mom just got out of the hospital, she hurt her back at work. now i’ve been in the game long enough to know how it starts. there are three common roads to being a dope fiend. you are already a druggie, and you just progress there in time, you are introduced by your loving significant other, or family member, or you get hurt. my mom’s been in a lot of pain for most of her life, and she usually just endures it. she hates to bother other people, and hates to look like a weak person, but she’s got two herniated discs in her back, and this pain is too much. her doctor started her on vics, which we all know are the equivalent of pill pez.  after her stay in the hospital they’ve moved her up to morphine. but i know the signs. she gets patches from my gramma, (who has the same problem, and spent the summer in rehab to get off oxycontin) and she’s been asking me more and more to find her pills for sale. i see her everyday, and she gets more and more fuct up looking. i feel sick to my stomach because i’m explaining to her that it’s normal to be itchy off opiates, she’s not allergic. and i’m torn because i know she’s in pain and the last thing i want is to see my mom hurt like that. but i know what runs in our family, and i know she uses meds to cope. she has a heavy benzo habit too. so now i feel like it’s my JOB to make sure she doesn’t get hooked. but how do you do that? can you stop someone? especially someone who doesn’t get it. you know the type: it’s okay because i get it from my doctor. it’s okay cuz it’s for my pain. i’m not an addict because i need it for a real reason.  and she doesn’t listen, cuz i’m a junky. you know, a real one. i can’t be trusted.

so here i am, powerlessly watching my mom skipping down the lane to opiate dependance.  i always said i know what it’s like to be a junky, and i know what it’s like to love one, but this will be a whole new type of pain. i don’t know what the fuck i’m gonna do.

riddle

how do you accept a truth you don’t want to know, but have known for quite sometime. how do you stop from making the same mistake over and over, a mistake you could avoid if you would just accept the truth you deny? how do you force your heart to follow your head.  how do you shut off your emotions and do what’s best for you. how do you help yourself, when it hurts so much to do it. how do you finally admit it won’t ever change, it won’t get better, it won’t end. how do you learn that you just have to walk away.

my methadone romance

i’ve gotten some comments on my blog (i deleted them) accusing me of being a lost cause.  i’ll never get clean cuz i really don’t want to, calling me pathetic, and stupid…yada yada yada. but, honestly, isn’t that part of being an addict? getting to the point where you don’t feel you can fall anymore? hopeless, helpless? isn’t that part of being at the end of your rope? i’m sorry if i’m the only junky that makes excuses to get high, or makes mistakes. i’m sorry if i don’t learn from it all  the first time. all i can do is try my best, and take it slow.

so yesturday was aweful.  my karma kicked in again  full force. i went to the clinic (methadone) and finally got my first dose, after waiting for almost two months. i’ve been pretty down the last couple weeks, so i’ve been using more and more. self medicating, you know the drill. so i wasn’t feeling as hopeful as i’d like, and on the way home from the clinic, the phone rang. it was kristi. “come give me a ride, i’ll get you high.” and instead doing the “right thing”, i did the “kaia thing”, and picked her up. you just got drug tested and came up positive,” “there won’t be another random for days” “they expect you to use while you are finding your correct dose” i know, all retarded excuses to stick myself. i was wrong.  and i know it. and i’m ashamed of it today.

the day was just an long drawn out self punishment. everything i hate about being an addict: we were out on the hunt for hours, this guy’s not home, this one says wait 45 minutes. then we got coke, i did one shot, and spent the next 2 hours geeked; uncomfortable and emotional, waiting for someone to hook me up with dope, cuz i was broke, of course. retarded. i didn’t get any of my own errarnds done, because i was at the mercy of my dealer all day. i owed her, for the hookup of course.  i got in trouble for bringing the car back late, i got into a fight with kristi for selling three bags for another kid instead of giving the sale to her, i was left at the house alone for two hours while the kids with money went out to score rock, and it goes on and on. all the shit that you go through day in and day out, all in the endless struggle for the unatainable high.

then, once i finally got home; the plot thickens. like a fucking idiot, i fronted three bags from kristi (after we hashed out the “stepping on her toes” fight) and when i got home, casey was excited to see the dope. so i started to set up the shots, and somehow THE FIGHT started again. now, THE FIGHT is the endless argument casey and i have been in for the past year and a half, it only starts when we get high, and it’s always about getting high, being high, not being high, copping drugs, getting clean…etc.  it’s a bloody, ruthless battle, and i fucking hate it. it comes out of nowhere, and it takes no prisoners.

i was finished my shot, and i sat back, jammed as hell, but not feeling good at all. i felt that same sad empty failiur  feeling. shocking, huh? at this point i started to cry.

“casey, i really can’t do this anymore.” i said, sniffling. he was still struggling to hit a vein, so he really wasn’t paying attention to me.

“uhhuh.”

“i don’t know why i even got high today. it wasn’t fun, it’s never fun. i don’t even get high. i’m miserable the whole time, i hate the whole routine of it.”

“uhhuh.”

“and the lady from that job interview called today while i was copping, and i think i may have that job.”  i thought the interview had gone well, and i was really hopeful for this job. this company will pay for me to finish school, and maybe i can finally get my degree. “but now i need to make sure i get a coverup for the pisstest, i don’t want them  to know i’m on methadone.”

“don’t get ahead of yourself, kaia, you don’t even know if they want you.” casey said, cleaning the blood off his arm.

“well, that’s not very supportive.” i said, a little offended. “i’m trying to be positive, i want to do this right. no more dope, i wanna work the clinic.” this concept wasn’t dawning on me for the first time, but i was realizing the gravity of it. “i want this job. bad. i want to fix the car, and move out. i want us to finally do something good.”

he just looked at me. “sorry if i don’t jump for joy, sweety, but it’s hard to take you seriously after i just watched you shoot two bags.” he’s right.

the aggrivated atmosphere was compounded by the holiday.  it was halloween yesturday, and we were supposed to see the disco biscuits in boston with our tour friends. i’ve written about this crew of kids in other posts.  i wrote about how these shows and these friends were a much needed connection to the world beyond heroin, and how much it meant to me to still be able to hit these shows; it’s how i knew i wasn’t totally consumed by the addiction.  well, needless to say, after the last weekend we spent with these kids (casey and i spent 88% of the time locked in our rooms) our tour friends called up last nite, to break it to us easy: they can’t a) keep picking us up and driving us to the show b) keep lending us money for tickets and c) let us crash in their hotel room for free. it’s painfully obvious, we fuct up so bad, we took advantage, and now the one thing in our life that resembled normal fun is lost. in order to resurect our tour life and our friendship with these people, we need to be able to support ourselves.  until we can get our own tickets, ride and hotel rooms, we are not welcome. i understand, and i respect their decision. it’s probably the best thing they could do for us, we need to see how fuct up we really are.

but, at that exact moment i was not thankful to them, i was incredibly sad and angry. because we were at home, doing heroin alone again. nobody’s fault but mine.  i fuct up everything today.  and i have the chance, the clinic, this was my first day, and i fuct that up too.  and now i look to casey to give me a little “is okay, kaia, we’ll do better tomorow.” and instead i got a “i’ll believe it when i see it” it’s all so discouraging.

 all fault aside, the acumulated occurances were weighing on me heavy.   i couldn’t stop crying, i wanted to believe i could do this. i wanted to believe i could make the positive change. i wanted to believe in myself, in this new beginning.  but i feel like i don’t really deserved to be believed in. and apperantly, neither did casey.

“i just want to make this into what it’s supposed to be, a second chance. you know what i mean?” i aksed.

“you know what you sound like, kaia. you sound like you’re superhigh right now. and everyone’s always into recovery when they’re blitzed. i think it’s really convienent for you to wanna get clean now. it’s hard to take you seriously.”a

my eyes were stinging, my throat tightened up. i feel this way so often now. empty. alone. useless.  the further down this dead end path we go together, the further apart casey and i get. we barely talk, unless we are in THE FIGHT, we are not supportive of each other, trust is an issue… everything is an issue. there’s this wall up, and a cold air hangs between us. the tears just keep coming. 

“you need to calm down. what good is that doing. just stop.”

“now i can’t even cry. why do you have to have a say in everything i do? if i need to cry i need to cry. this is the first time in so long i actually FEEL something. don’t tell me not to feel it.”

“oh jesus, so fucking dramatic. is this what methadone does? make you this blubbering mess?  i don’t think i like this” his face was completely emotionless, flipping through the channels.

“damnit casey, i am so alone in this.”

“we’re both alone in this. isn’t that fucking hilarious?” he laughed. “i want us to make it through this and come out on the other side, together. but alot of this journey, we will be alone. don’t hate me for it, it’s just the way it is.  you have to take care of yourself.” he grabbed my hand.

we turned the light off and went to bed. all the same thoughts came trickling into my head. thoughts that barely mean anything anymore, but could mean something if i put some heart back into them.  i want so bad to get clean. i really hope i get this job. one day at a time…put the car on the road. take better care of casey. and the were the thoughts that lulled me to sleep.  slowly growing relivance again.

it’s a little after 11:00 right now, the morning after; i’ve gone to the clinic, made some important phone calls, cleaned up the house, and turned down dope twice already.  take each moment as it comes, don’t let the small shit get me down.  don’t listen to the shit talkers, even myself.  this methadone shit’s not a miracle, but i will get out what i put in. so that’s what i’ll work on…put my fair share of work into my life. that’s what missing in this romance, my fair share.  i’ve just been tagging along, contributing nothing. that’s why i feel nothing, that’s why i feel empty. because i am.  hopefully, over the next few weeks, these thoughts will morph into actions, these feelings will become  movements. and i will get out all i’m putting in.