OCD, Heroin, literature and music how my addictions are connected... - Part 3

By Ginger87 · Sep 4, 2014 · ·
  1. gust 9th, 2014 Posted by Ginger Write comment
    I believe I’ve always been an addict but I will address the latest blip and lamentations of how I went 360 and ended up here, again.

    I had been clean of street drugs 18 months an was on 5ml of methadone when I went to a detox centre, I was released after a reduction and I was let out two days clean. Which I could have done, I wanted to be somewhere for the first week of being clean but alas it wasn’t to be. With my other illnesses the rattle made keeping up with appointments etc nigh on impossible.

    Hot as hell inside , with the devil himself taking time to ruggedly shove a red hot poker right up my arse into my stomach,
    My skin as cold as the artic tundra, sleeplessly wanderingwith barely the energy to stand let alone walk but sleep wasn’t forth coming, oh no, not even sleeping pills would knock me out.
    So I took codeine, just to ease it up a bit, give me a days rest but it set me back to day one and forlorn and lamenting my stupidity and all them days of hell for nothing – I continued to take the pills.
    You can guess the rest, I was using heroin and crack again within a week so to stop my 18 months of sobriety being lost I did what I said I wouldn’t and went back on methadone again to stop myself feeling I needed to use to keep that damn silver back off my back.

    I never stopped using, I drank a lot – (the posts here in the blog are proof of how desperate I had become)
    I was taking methadone, heroin, crack and alcohol daily and lorazapam, valium, fentanal, speed and weed regularly when I checked into rehab. It was that or die, I knew that and something
    deep inside didn’t want that. I made sure the rehab wasn’t 12 step or too hardcore in its daily routine but the main factor was it could take me the following week, 5 days, I agreed.

    But my luck prevailed and my rehab was flooded, but they found me a place somewhere else nearby that they highly recommended and they had a place on the original planned date.
    It was everything I said I didnt want. We were woken at 5.50am with a bell, 7am group was announced with a bell, breakfast 7.45am the bloody bell. Somewhere inbetween that we were expected to be washed and dressed for the bell at 9am for yoga. You had to attend meals even if you was not eating and meds were 6-9am so you had to get that in too.
    The whole day was like that, lectures on higher powers, 12 step groups, NA or AA shares, life stories, p&c’s which is basically saying what a complete cunt you are accompanied with a story then your peers slag you off. Tedious, predictable, enraging, emotional and utterly pointless. I’m no longer there so I can gossip about these people and what they did ;

    I was enraged, barely able to contain my anger listening to a pregnant, ex prostitute being very blasé about leaving a 3 year old with down syndrome and a 2 year old with no food or water so she could go out whoring for crack. She didn’t ring her mum or the child’s father to watch them as she didn’t want them to know she wasn’t coping. She smoked crack through all her pregnancies, left the children alone, hungry, or in dirty nappies often, sold their clothes… My blood boiled, this was one of my room mates! If it was I in that position I’d have to have someone take the children on, I couldnt make them suffer as she did. I believe she only kept them for the child benefits.

    We also had a young boy, lovely lad, very understanding and funny but afflicted by having a brain which, like mine, was against him and had a great hatred for him and made anything positive nigh on impossible. My only solace was John and Rupert, maybe Pelham a 50 year old disabled alcoholic with the temperament of a 10 year old. Music was banned but John had his guitar, he played for us whenever we had a chance, Bowie, The Smiths, The Beatles, so many songs I didn’t know before or had forgotten, it was balm for the soul.

    I, like a caged bird knew that I was not meant to be here. I knew that my home was not where I was laying my hat and spending time here, learning fuck all transferable and spending long, tiresome days talking about drugs.
    I could not imagine spending my days in Weston, NA meetings…
    If I am to be clean I will do it my way, I have learnt many things but coping outside was not one of them and I was never going to learn until I left. So, I packed and left like a thief in the night, saying goodbye to nobody through fear of being talked out of it. John just happened to be having the same idea and we hot footed it out of there, wild, happy, bloody ecstatic! Sat outside the train station, drunk on half a can, sat upon a stoop playing tunes it never occurred to us we had just fucked up in a big way. We decided to score, so had to leave London bound – only once mind, for old times sake, to celebrate our freedom, to stick it to the man!

    In London we scored, Irish was appalled and amazed to see me, not John so much – until they bonded over their music, had a little jamm together.
    And I sat there, banging up. I had been clean 8 days and I learnt a great lesson, as I layed heaving my guts up on the floor of Irishs toilet. I learnt that I tried bloody hard to get addicted to heroin, it took nights of this; retching, ear ringing, shaking. The buzz, oh the sweet beautiful comfort of heroin kept pulling me back but it did not come free, nor easy. It took time, I persisted and that is something I had forgotten. It was something that needed to be remembered but unfortunately this time I was still in withdrawal and I was sent right back to addiction and 12 hours from withdrawal.

    I in my thoughts then never considered between the drugs, hugs, music, laughing and party atmosphere what would occur 12 hours later. Despair. Utter fucking despair.
    I awoke first in the dirty flat, the smell of dirty engrained upon the mattress I was laying on,
    Sin bins of dirty needles littered the turntables along with special brew cans and the last of my hope. I can’t believe I was so in the moment, so foolish, so so ME! Irresponsible, childlike, self serving and selfish. I cooked up a snowball, hit up swiftly as a doctor and set out for the shop, I was ravenously hungry and needed a drink. As I entered the small Londis I had something in my mind tell me to check my account, though this morn I had ample coinage to make my purchase and behold, mon petit Cherie , £4967.26p… A blessing, a bitter bitter curse.
    I was not going to stay clean with this cash, I was tempted to throw it in the Thames. I seriously considered it humble reader, as I was phoning my dealer I am ashamed to say.
    The last few months of my blog have detailed my fall from grace,
    Tis not ground I wish to go over with you again. The money was back pay, I spent 95% on drink and drugs. I luckily stopped myself from falling back into alcoholism, but my crack and opiate addictions prevailed. I tried, many days to stop and I’d at best get to three days.
    Withdrawal I believe is like giving birth, your mind hurriedly forgets or nobody would bloody do it more than once!

    Four months, a few begging stints, a TK maxx ban, inability to enter anywhere that sells Ray Bans for fear of arrest and a NFA after 24 hours with the biggest gang in England the police service, I decided to get back on a script. I swore never ever, I couldn’t keep it up anymore but methadone was my only option being lactose intolerant Subutex was a no no.
    So that’s me, that’s how I done a 360 and started back where I began, poorer, sicker, no wiser and a hell of a lot older- mentally it felt more than two years.


  1. curiousonlooker
    I enjoy your writing, I will read it! :) I don't have anything to say, as you seem able to express yourself verbally and from your writings appear to have friends and family around--- though it seems you're looking for more, I just am not sure what yet,an know I wouldn't be able to help you if I did, that whatever it it you will have to be able to lift and wield it yourself.
  2. Ginger87
    I can't cope anymore, this is too much
    My lifes beyond repair. I get to day three and fail.
    How do I do this? Please? I find myself contemplating suicide if this goes wrong again, I'm not being a self pitying fool I just know I can't last a relapse again. Anyone, please? How do I do this...
  3. Serak The Preparer
    Weird case of deja vu reading this, I read your blog on a website some weeks back.

    In my time in the area I pretty much used all the services at one time or another. I found that the Beresford in Woolwich provided the best care of all so maybe worth a punt (I don't know if you've been there or not)

    You can just walk in there and get seen but you'll need an address in the Greenwich borough (I used a friends address)

    I'm sure you can turn it around with a bit of luck, even I fluked my way back to relative normality!!

    Look after yourself anyway.
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