Friday, January 4, 2013

The Rabbit Hole- Heroin Diaries part 3

Its been a while. Ive sat down so many times trying to make sense of the wonderland i got lost in. Ive sat in front of this blank screen for hours struggling with shame and recovery. I've been told recovery happens a day at a time but some days its minutes at a time.Perhaps however that is best left for the end of my tale. I promised that this would be the truth from start to finsih and i believe i was somewhere near phoenix. We started having problems that september around the same time J was diagnosed with pretty advanced MS. He got a little bit more distant everyday. The paralysis came and although it was temporary i watched his spirit die a little every day while i hooked up his iv and sponged bathed the man i loved at the age of 24 and 26. I worked 60 hours a week took care of J and served on the pta and managed to pick up a second job working extra odd hours. But with every added stress and activity came more pain and more stress and more drugs. J became emotionally abusive at first when he didnt need me he would culture me with lonliness refusing to speak to me for days at a time or cutting off all my contact with the world. I grasped on so tightly to the unraveling strings of my life so tightly but when i opened my hand it was empty like i was trying to catch smoke. He didnt start hitting me until we came home to portland. And it was never directly. The more abuse there was the more drugs i consumed. My final memory of j was the last day we spent living together. He started to yell at me about going to the store and i just walked out of the bedroom crushed five or six fifteen mg oxy railed them and went back out to face the music. I made the mistake of sassing him back when he told me to go up the stree to the store i was behind him on the couch in just enough of an opiate daze he grabbed me by the troat straight up over the couch and onto the middle of the living room floor. He squeezed harder and harder and in the moment when i knew i would die all i could say was his name. It was barley a whisper from my lips. He let go as i passed out when i came to he was back on the couch with a playstation controler in his hand he put it down slowly came over to me put one hand on my neck and whispered into my ear.
     "remember that i could kill you with one fucking hand" He threw a wad of cash at me and i dodged out the door went to the store and came back crushed another hundred mg of oxy and got into the shower. I was trying to wash off the fresh brusises on my neck i never even heard him get in. My face slammed against the tile and i tasted the blood in my mouth. He raped me twice but i felt nothing. He let me crumple onto the shower floor and i sat there until the water got cold got out and went to bed. He was sweet and wonderful for a week after that but we died that day on the living room floor and in the shower. I packed up mia and we ran, never looking back but at the same time not dealing with any of it especially my growing addiction that within the next six months would go from oxy to coke to heroin...

Hmm besides my amazing best friend that is the first time that memory has become real and valid and spoken. Part of recovery at least for me is confronting the memories of horror that i allowed to happen. The tradgedy that lead to my drug abuse. Justin was part of that tragedy. That best friend who was my light in a dark place for so long hates the memory of him, I would perhaps do it again if i hadnt had Mia. Those stretches of happy were so amazingly intense that the sad and abuse was almost bearable if i could just hope tomorrow we would be okay. I learned self respect out of the disrespect i endured, i learned that drugs kill even the strongest of love and that if i dont love myself and take good care of me, i simply will never be able to do it for anyone else. I got clean seven months ago today...until next time:)

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