I would really like to keep my cheeks dry today

Alot of the time i find myself not wanting to be alive.  More times than any sane person would consider normal when you have depression.   

The first time i can remember feeling like life just wasnt for me was when i was about 12 probably.  I use to pray i wouldnt wake up in the morning.  I would pray so i hard i would cry.  I would literally beg God to take me in the night.  I couldnt imagine having the courage to do it myself.  I didnt like life most of the time.  I still dont.  Being an adult sucks.  Sure, i have my days and my moments where i like being alive, things are good.  I wish i had more of those days.  More of those days would be nice so i could really enjoy my time on this earth.  

After my overdose i started to think more and more that i should be greatful and happy that i was alive.  Part of me does want to live, i truly do.  I always tell myself life is similar to a roller coaster, you peak and have great days and you plummet and have really bad days.  You just have to stay on the ride waiting for those wonderful peaks.  But then there are those days that i tell myself something completely different all together.  Those are the days i wish i could have left this earth with my grandmother.  When she was alive every time i would sink low i would tell myself that i couldnt possibly take myself from this earth…what would that do to her?  Well it would have killed her, thats what.  And i couldnt possibly be the cause of that much pain to someone i loved so much.  Someone who tried everything and would do anything to make me feel better when i would call her upset and hating myself.  Now she is gone.  What now?  Surely there must be people in my life that would hurt if i took my own life.  Yes, there are people and yes, im sure i would cause pain if i left.  The thing is, there really arent that many.  There is only one in my life that i am with everyday and talk to everyday, my boyfriend.  I feel like i already disappoint him all the time and never do much of anything right.   I hardly talk to the rest of my family.  I feel like most people just dont see me.  And the ones that do see me, dont understand me.  

I know that depression is one of the reasons i could never be a casual drug user.  That first hit just wasnt for fun, i had found something that soothed my soul.  I had finally found a new friend.  A friend that took away the pain, physically and emotionally.  This friend understood me.  It got me.  Heroin was always there.  When i had no one to talk to heroin listened.  When i was happy heroin celebrated with me.  When i was horribly depressed heroin gave me a hug.  When i wanted to get something done heroin was there to cheer me on.  Heroin was with me for every moment for years.  It literally became a part of me.  

However, this great savior was a judas.  Heroin didnt fix my problems.  It made them worse.  It has made me worse.  I have wasted a large portion of my life.  I have never worked at actually fixing my problems, i just covered them up.  How do you dig yourself out of a mountain like that?  Where do you even begin?  I still find myself a sad girl, not knowing what the hell to do, who feels alone most days.


If i can find the time i am going to keep writting about my experiences tonight.  The suboxone is working so good.  I feel great..alive even.  Thats a feeling i havent known in sometime.  Work has been keeping me busy.  I enjoy writting so i will make time this weekend if not tonight.


The smell of death

I open my eyes and the first thing that wakes my senses up is that smell.  That awful, putrid smell of pain, sorrow and death.  The smell of detox.  It lingers.  It gets stuck in your nose.  No matter how many showers you take, it comes back. A reminder that every part of your body knows you dont have heroin.  Even your sense of smell.

For someone who has never been addicted the thought of detox probably brings to mind thoughs like “its like the flu” “let them go through it, they will live”.  Every addict knows that detox isnt to be taken lightly and is like a freight train coming head on…fast.

I lay on my sofa, wanting to die.  How did i get myself into this…again?   Im living in hell.  Why wont my legs just lay still?  WHY? why does the thought of just laying here feel like its driving me INSANE.  If i could just cut them off it would stop.  I cant cut my legs off, not even possible or rational. I scream and kick as i beat my legs with my fist.  JUST STOP!!  Why wont you just lay still!!!!

Now im sweating…but its cold.  Ill cover up, ew, this blanket smells like detox.  Oh well, im hot now anyways.  God this has to stop.  I could call and get a front.  Im broke as hell and in debt but i get paid in two days, yes…he will def front me.  No, no, no i shouldnt do that.  I have suboxone.  Only 12 more hours of this an i can take the suboxone.  12 MORE HOURS!  Every minute feels like an hour.  Time trickles by.  Why did i do this to myself again? 

I can make it.  If only i could just sleep, even for an hour.  I would be so grateful.  Just an hour, please god. Just an hour.  

Why is my stomach cramping so bad.  It feels like knives cutting deep into my guts.  Oh im nauseous.  Dry heaves.  I havent eaten.  Ofcourse i going to throw up that horrible burning bile that comes from deep in your stomach.  My legs driving me insane wasnt enough?  Now i cant stop throwing this putrid bile up?  Just a bag would make this hell stop. Just a bag. 

This blanket.  This damn blanket that reakes of detox feels like its a huge weight cutting into me.  Just get off!!!  Dont touch me.  Nothing touch me.  I feel like an alien in ny own body.  I want to peel my skin off. Thats crazy, cant do that.  Just deal with it.  It has to be almost time to take my suboxone.  It has to be.  ONLY 15 minutes has gone by.  Jesus.  Just a bag would stop this.

My brain itches.  An itch i cant scratch.  I just want to cry.  Jesus christ, how can not having a drug do all of this to my brain and body.  Just kill me.  Im a fuck up anyways.  I have imprisoned myself in a cage of pain and ill never get out.  Just kill me.  Only 11 more hours….

#detox #heroin #survival #dailypost #pain 


Blood is thicker than water

They say that some people are more prone to an addictive personality, like a sleeping dragon waiting to be woken.  I truly believe that fact, and the way i was raised, created the perfect storm that is my addiction.  

I was born to a bipolar mother and a father that left before i was born.  For the first 7 years of my life i was the only child.  One of my first memories is being locked out of my mothers room, with wet pajamas,  sitting on a heater trying to get warm.  My mother wasnt the worst mother out there, but she certainly wasnt the best.  She either cared to much and punished to hard, leaving bruises up and down my back and legs or she would just stay in bed as i ran free.  Im sure you can imagine the confusion this would cause for a small child.  One day watching the little mermaid was perfectly fine, the next day it was evil, i was a bad child for watching it and i deserved a spanking.  

By the time i was 9 i had two little brothers.  I learned very quick how to take care of them when my mother could not/would not.  Looking back on it all i had to grow up fast.  It wasnt all bad.  My mother had her good days where fun was to be had, home meals cooked and it felt like a normal family.  Unfortunately those days did not out number the bad and the court system removed me from my mothers care around the age of 12 and placed me with my grandmother .  

My grandmother. Without her i may be dead this very moment.  She was the light in a very dark tunnel in my young mind. 

 My grandmother played the role of mother and father for most of my life.  When i was with her it felt as close to normal as i could imagine.  No “you are going to be bad today anyways” spanking, no screming, no days spent laying in bed.  Just normal.  Just happy.  

I lost her this past July.  On my mothers birthday.  Even though they hadnt really spoken in years i knew it had to hurt my mother.  Loss is a knife that cuts deep and never heals back to the perfect state that was.  As this loss cut a hole out of my heart, i filled it with more and more heroin.


Im not bad, im just drawn this way.

My eyes opened to a man starring at me with a concerned look on his face.  Who is this guy?  What does he want and why cant i move?  Looking around i see a vitals monitor and an iv bag.  Shit, he is an EMT.  Shit, i am in the back of an ambulance.  Shit, shit, shit…i must have O’D.  

I didnt try to fuck my life up by using heroin, it just kind of happened.  I havent royally screwed my life up, i have a decent job, a car and a roof over my head.  It could be worse.  I have, however manage to blow through a small fortune, cause worry to those i love and most of the time im just keeping my head above water.  Heroin is why i cant have nice things.  Heroin is also the reason i almost died today.

There is a first time for everything and this was my first overdose.  In 15 years of using it had never happened to me.  Heroin’s deadly kiss had touched many people i knew and cared for, and for some it was their last kiss.  

I tried to convince the EMTs and police to let me out of the ambulance, i was fine.  I just wanted to go home.  Get in my car i was pulled from in a gas station parking lot, and go home.  I felt fine, hospitals arent my thing.  Besides, i had a boyfriend at home who was dope sick and needed some of the half gram in my purse the police somehow did not find.  I was being forced to go to the hospital…so off i went, strapped to a gurney.  

Overdosing for me wasnt like i thought it would maybe be like.  I had always thought i would feel it coming on, like some kind of warning would alert me.  Nope.  I got in my car and all of a sudden darkness.  Total blackness with no warning.  I could have died and i wouldnt have known the difference.  You would think an experience like this would make me stop. You would think i would wake up and realize the deadly game i was playing.  Nope.  Thats the thing with heroin, you dont think.  Its a friend thats always there.  Its a warm blanket when your cold.  It can make everything ok.  Until you have no more money to feed the beast, then it truly rears its ugly head, more on that later.  

I made it home to a very worried boyfriend and needless to say, we consumed the half gram, afterall why let good dope go to waste?