I just answered a comment in which someone misunderstood what I meant. I don't always explain myself as well as I would like to . I am not as articulate as I am in my head. Oh well. But for anyone else who may get the wrong idea.
When I talk about things with my mom. It fucked me up in the head for awhile but I have recently come to terms with alot of the shit ana I am much happier for it. But as far as my choices in life. They are MY choices. I get high because I want to, because it feels fan-fucking-tastic. Not because my mom fucked me up, lol. I love when I put the needle and register that blood. Like when I wath intervention and i see ppl shooting. When I see that bllod my stomach gets all tight and I get antsy. I think they may be one of the more beautiful sights in the known universe. And I have a thing for hydrocodones to. Love the way they make me feel, love the energy, just the whole goddamn high is great.
I didn't put a needle in my arm til I was 28 years old. I was scared to even try coke til I was 22. All I did in my teens was alot of acid and weed. If I was gonna use over my childhood, I should have started with the heavy shit at 14. So that's it, just wanted to make that clear.
And Shelley, much love girl. You speak your mind and I have to fucking respect that. You don't bash, your not rude, you just tell the truth. And that's something you rarely find in people. And those are the comments I love even if someone doesn't agree with me. :)
Showing posts with label the past is so far gone now. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the past is so far gone now. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
International Drug User Remeberance Day
Today is the day to remember those no longer with us. My mother is not dead, but she may as well be. I wait for that call. The one where they ask me to ID her body which I will proably hardly recognize. The following is a VERY condensed version of things. I would be here for weeks trying to write it all down.
I used to carry alot of guilt for turning my back on her when I use also. But contrary to popular belief, there is such a thing as a responsible drug user and I am one. Functional addicts, the ones who go to work, pay the bills, make sure the kids are cared for.
Anyhow, back to her. No matter what, I always loved my mother. She bought me tons of toys, all the pretty dresses and anything else I wanted. But all I wanted was her love and attention which I rarely got. I also never got her recognition. I only ever wanted her to acknowledge, just once, everything she subjected me to and maybe even say she was sorry, I could forgive it all. That was hard to let go of. Then I had to deal with the guilt of turning my back on her, feeling as if there was no other way.
She eventually got so bad that she burned down my grandmothers house nodding out. She woke up to a small fire on the bed, threw some water on it and went back to sleep. She woke up again to a lady screaming and beating on the door. I had alot of sentimental things in that house, along with my grandmothers and uncles belongings. My grandmother had just passed away a few months before.
After that, she sold my kids christmas presents for crack and told me 3 different stories about what had happened. Claiming to be robbed. I had her commited for a psych eval after her boyfriend called and told me she swallowed an unknown amount of xanax. But they let her go after 3 days. The doctor said she needed detox but there was nothing he would do because she had to go on her own. they released her with a purse full of prescription methadone and hydrocodones that were not even hers. They were not even in pill bottles. She told them they were hers and they did not even check. She was my hydro supplier when I went through a period of heavy binging.
Before and during this time, within a year I lost all three of the granparents who helped raise me. My nana died of cancer, only after it tore her down leaving her a shell of the beautiful strong woman she was.
Anyhow, I just could not do it anymore. She would sit at my house and nod out and burn my couch and herself in front of the kids. One night her ex was chasing her down the street because she was having some sort of crack freak out and some SUV ran them over, my mother was basically fine except for some bruises. her ex was really fucked up and stayed in the hospital for 3 weeks. She didn't even care.When they called me to pick her up I refused to go. So my bf went, he still wanted to try and talk to her, to help her. He had to stand there while my mother screamed at the doctor to give her pain meds. They had refused because she had coke, marijuana and opiates in her system. Finally the doctor gave her some pills just to shut her up. My bf told her I love her but I can't watch her do this shit anymore. I told her on the phone a few days later that when she was ready to get help I would do all I could.
My mother was a beautiful woman, who always wore designer clothes, who always put on makeup and looked her bestbefore leaving the house. Her appearance was important to her. She was smart, strong. I don't know the woman she is now. She was the type of woman who would never let a man bring her down...normally. Until she met Shannon ... and crack. Now she is a homley old street walker.
One day I will get that call.
I used to carry alot of guilt for turning my back on her when I use also. But contrary to popular belief, there is such a thing as a responsible drug user and I am one. Functional addicts, the ones who go to work, pay the bills, make sure the kids are cared for.
Anyhow, back to her. No matter what, I always loved my mother. She bought me tons of toys, all the pretty dresses and anything else I wanted. But all I wanted was her love and attention which I rarely got. I also never got her recognition. I only ever wanted her to acknowledge, just once, everything she subjected me to and maybe even say she was sorry, I could forgive it all. That was hard to let go of. Then I had to deal with the guilt of turning my back on her, feeling as if there was no other way.
She eventually got so bad that she burned down my grandmothers house nodding out. She woke up to a small fire on the bed, threw some water on it and went back to sleep. She woke up again to a lady screaming and beating on the door. I had alot of sentimental things in that house, along with my grandmothers and uncles belongings. My grandmother had just passed away a few months before.
After that, she sold my kids christmas presents for crack and told me 3 different stories about what had happened. Claiming to be robbed. I had her commited for a psych eval after her boyfriend called and told me she swallowed an unknown amount of xanax. But they let her go after 3 days. The doctor said she needed detox but there was nothing he would do because she had to go on her own. they released her with a purse full of prescription methadone and hydrocodones that were not even hers. They were not even in pill bottles. She told them they were hers and they did not even check. She was my hydro supplier when I went through a period of heavy binging.
Before and during this time, within a year I lost all three of the granparents who helped raise me. My nana died of cancer, only after it tore her down leaving her a shell of the beautiful strong woman she was.
Anyhow, I just could not do it anymore. She would sit at my house and nod out and burn my couch and herself in front of the kids. One night her ex was chasing her down the street because she was having some sort of crack freak out and some SUV ran them over, my mother was basically fine except for some bruises. her ex was really fucked up and stayed in the hospital for 3 weeks. She didn't even care.When they called me to pick her up I refused to go. So my bf went, he still wanted to try and talk to her, to help her. He had to stand there while my mother screamed at the doctor to give her pain meds. They had refused because she had coke, marijuana and opiates in her system. Finally the doctor gave her some pills just to shut her up. My bf told her I love her but I can't watch her do this shit anymore. I told her on the phone a few days later that when she was ready to get help I would do all I could.
My mother was a beautiful woman, who always wore designer clothes, who always put on makeup and looked her bestbefore leaving the house. Her appearance was important to her. She was smart, strong. I don't know the woman she is now. She was the type of woman who would never let a man bring her down...normally. Until she met Shannon ... and crack. Now she is a homley old street walker.
One day I will get that call.
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