Friday, October 2, 2009

Addiction - As I Imagine It

Living with yourself while your addicted child is incarcerated.

This is my imagination at work. To recovering addicts if I am not exactly accurate, please forgive me. To parents of addicts if I am too graphic, please forgive me. This is just my imagination at work.

Caution: Adult language ahead. This is a fictional story that I play out in my mind when I begin to feel sorry for myself or for my addict while he is in jail.

I told dad once needing to use is like breathing, sometimes I think using is more important than breathing, or at least just as.

God, I can't stand it, answer the fucking phone, answer the phone. Shit nobody wants to answer. Yea, I'll call her. Yea, are you holdin'?

Yea I got some, what ya need.

I need 80's can I come in to get 'em?

Yea, but listen mother fucker don't come showing up again with a fuckin' old Barbie doll from the 1960's in the orginal box with your goddamn mother's name written on the back of the box in crayon. What do you think I am a fuckin' toy collector. You ain't got cash then fuck off.

OK, I'll bring cash this time.

What can I get this time, they don't leave shit for cash in this house any more. Dad's stuff downstairs. Yea, this will work, a DeWalt Saw. Shit this thing is brand new.

Evan, you gotta come over, take me to KCK. I need to pick up some stuff.

OK, I'll be right over.

Hey, glad you came fast, I'm hurtin'. We got to stop at the shop on the way, you know the one on State.

OK, no problem.

What can I get for this saw? It's a Dewalt and it's new.

Where'd you get this? Did you steal this?

No, I work construction. It's my saw I just need some cash. Give me $25.

No man it is only worth $10 in pawn. Grinning because he knows the kid is strung out and needing.

$20 and you got a deal.

OK. Quickly handing over the cash for a tool he knows cost nearly $150 new.

Hey, I got 20 give me what you got for 20.

You cheap ass fucker. Get some real money from now on or find somebody else to dick with. The guy she is living with is on couch sitting there stretched out. It must be uncomfortable with gun in his belt against his gut but he isn't somebody to fuck with.

Come on Evan let's get outta here.

We're home, get your kit man your in bad shape, I gotta go, outta here bye.

OK, upstairs. Back downstairs, where are those fucking matches. God damn it they ain't in the drawer. Oh yea, dad grilled steaks last night, look on that table next to the door to the deck. Yea, here they are.

Light the candle, get the water. Come on baby, don't burn the shit, don't get it too hot man. That's good, that's good. Pull tight. Sure glad that dad saved all his old worn out belts...........


There are 2 endings to this story. This is like some of those new DVD's or computer games where you can choose your scenes. It's your choice, pick the one you want to read.


ENDING #1

It's a good vein. They ain't all gone yet. Slow and steady, watching the needle press against and then puncture the skin. Pulling back to draw a little blood into the syringe and then a slow push of the thumb. A calm peacefulness settles into his face as the syringe empties. The anxiety is gone, life is calm and right. Relaxing, man this good. Breathing is settling into a normal pattern now. this will hold me for a while. Gotta pick this stuff up.

Blow out the candle, stash this stuff behind the tupperware storage box in the closet. Grinning, I bet dad doesn't even miss this old belt.



ENDING # 2

It's a good vein. They ain't all gone yet. Slow and steady, watching the needle press against and then puncture the skin. Pulling back to draw a little blood into the syringe and then a slow push of the thumb. A calm peacefulness settles into his face. His head droops towards his chest, cocked to the side, his jaw open slightly. His body slumps and his chest moves in a very shallow irregular pattern. Soon there is no movement. His eyes half open, blank, no blinks. Nothing there to even take out the needle. The candle slowly burns down and out, the flame flickering its last life.




Hi babe, it's me. Are you out of work early today? On your way home? Half way there? I'm just leaving the office now, I'll be there soon. See you when I get there. Bye, love you.

_________________________________________________

This is what enables me to sleep at night while my son is in jail. One day I know he will beat this demon but until he is ready I want him in a place where I know he is watched.


2 posts in one day, be sure to read CDC Report also.

11 comments:

Athena said...

Me too... Me too. I related to your scenario, as you know from my recent blog. One of the homes that was burglarized was the home of my daughter's "boyfriend's parents" - the other grandparents.

According to news reports, one of the addicts (all are) stole a gun, and then a few days later *called* the victim on the phone to tell him if he wanted his gun back it would cost $100.00!! Oh - and they had already traded the gun for drugs.

It is insanity.

clean and crazy said...

no apology necessary, you pretty much nailed it with both graphic endings. these should be posted on the front page over every newspaper until we stop the ridiculous insanity of this. it is a war on drugs and we need help to fight it.
i really love how you guys are using this venue to help so many others.

Barbara(aka Layla) said...

Excellent "story", what parent of an addict (especially opiates) can't relate to this? I read my son's text messages and wanted to throw up - the desperation of texting dealer after dealer, the "I'll meet you on the corner" or "I'm right outside" or "how much?" "Im sick man". Every item he every owned of value is gone...his expensive Peavy amp, his bass guitar, his PS2. Plus all the money he stole and my sister's rare coin collection.

That's how desperate these addicts are. Few people can understand this unless they see it first hand, so thank you for this story, I hope people that don't have addicts read it and get an idea.

Also, when cleaning his room this last time I found my pink fuzzy robe belt. He used my pink fuzzy robe belt! The pink fuzzy robe I have worn to hold him in my arms. His tears, not long ago, were soaked up by the pink fuzzy robe. It symbolizes me and my love for him - why did he use my pink fuzzy robe belt? He could have used a friggin shoelace.

Sorry. I'm a bit erratic today. Great post and must read for everyone, I'll link to it but I think all my readers read here anyhow :)

Annette said...

Deep sigh. Pretty accurate if you ask me. :o(

Carol said...

Good post. And exactly the way I am thinking now that my addict is incarcerated. The longer he stays in there, the more of the shit gets out of his system, the better.

Good news! He has been interviewed for "Drug Court". We'll find out in about 2 weeks whether or not he is accepted. Step one is 90 inpatient rehab. Not sure what happens after that, as this will be our first experience with it. Do you know anything about this? I'm loaded with questions, and nobody to ask.

Praying...

Dad and Mom said...

Carol,

I don't know anything about drug court. We don't have that here in KS, at least not in the jurisdictions in which I am familiar. If you have more questions my e-mail is on the blog under out picture.

Anonymous said...

I am a mom who lives with senario number 2. Maybe no one on this site wants to hear of the heartache. I wish my son were in jail and I had more time with him. The heroin out there can be so pure...I was gone a couple of hours, he was going to his best friends house for dinner and had a life plan. He thought he had kicked it or convinced me of that. Gone in a flash. Brilliant musician, great athlete and friend to hundreds. Why did you have so much pain. I think the biggest reason kids turn to this is underlying pain. Ian had been 19 for 1 day. My heart is bleeding. It has been 3 weeks and one day.

Dad and Mom said...

Anonymous,

I am so sorry. So so sorry.

Syd said...

This almost makes me sick. I read about those dying and those who have lost ones that they love. It seems too much.

Midnitefyrfly said...

That is pretty much the exact process. It seems so sickening to look back on now- but at the time I was using, it was so much easier than thinking, feeling, and daily functions. The reward always felt great and worth it. Sad.

BMelonsLemonade said...

Good post, Dad. I breathed a heavy, heart wrenching sigh of relief at the end when you explain this helps you sleep with your son in jail. I am glad Alex is doing better these days.