Going in
Tomorrow's The Day. Check in, 9am. Duration, 2 weeks. It's a spin dry. And I need it.
At least it feels like summer is here. At last. Walking slowly in the sunshine, soaking it up. The little things make me happy. My chocolate milkshake, each inhale of nicotine, my boyfriend's smooth strong body next to mine. Entwined in each other.
We're entwined in addiction too. Yes, he's bad. But not to me. To me he's soft and lovely. Used to associating with criminals, he wears the mask of tough guy- don't piss him off, don't get too close. His deep dark secret is his sweetness. What a secret! It's a topsy-turvy world, but the more I learn him, the more he shines. He's good for me.
As I clean up, so will he. And that's when reality will close in. Like going from crooners on the record player to a skipping heavy metal CD. From candle-light to harsh fluorescents.
I expect it all.
I want it all.
I want the track marks on my hands and wrists to heal. I want to wake up without the aching and the sneezing. I want a short sleeved summer. Messy orgasms. Change at the bottom of my purse. Clarity.
At least it feels like summer is here. At last. Walking slowly in the sunshine, soaking it up. The little things make me happy. My chocolate milkshake, each inhale of nicotine, my boyfriend's smooth strong body next to mine. Entwined in each other.
We're entwined in addiction too. Yes, he's bad. But not to me. To me he's soft and lovely. Used to associating with criminals, he wears the mask of tough guy- don't piss him off, don't get too close. His deep dark secret is his sweetness. What a secret! It's a topsy-turvy world, but the more I learn him, the more he shines. He's good for me.
As I clean up, so will he. And that's when reality will close in. Like going from crooners on the record player to a skipping heavy metal CD. From candle-light to harsh fluorescents.
I expect it all.
I want it all.
I want the track marks on my hands and wrists to heal. I want to wake up without the aching and the sneezing. I want a short sleeved summer. Messy orgasms. Change at the bottom of my purse. Clarity.
posted by tui at 11:16 PM
14 Comments:
Hey Tui,
Good luck! And Happy Halloween! I love the writing in this post -- particularly the line about candle light to harsh florescents. The nature of all relationships, I suppose, with or without drugs. The ending paragraph is amazing as well.
i guess i will bare my woman naivete-does H make the orgasms cease to be ... ummmmm - warm and wet like a summer afternoon shower??? or do they cease completely? I would have been able to give up all opiates a long time ago if they made me lose the ability to have a man-gasm :o)
"His deep dark secret is his sweetness" how true is THAT of how many guys..?
Darling I had to do an awful lot of reading between the lines... when I last read your blog (last week excluded!) you were all methadone-clean and just about to take your last dose!
A lot can happen in a few months, tell me about it...
ANYWAY... I take it you were talking about going into treatment? You weren't too clear about it: 2 weeks is an awfully short time to clear up a drug habit that's been going for years...
Are you planning to go into rehab afterwards? Are you able to?
Beware if you're in a relationship with a user a lot of places will pressure you to split you up. Or try and make it sound reasonable to split up in the short term... just watch out!!
You're wasting yout time just like lsat time. Your problems go much deeper than drugs- you're one of those pathetic girls that healthy men can spot a mile away as they run in the opposite direction. You cling to any scum who will be with you and convince yourself that you're in a real relationship. Newsflash: your violent criminal "boyfriend" has no intention of staying clean and no intention of staying with you if you do. So what happened to your well paying ad job?
tui, i dont care what you do. as for all people, i wish for u to be happy. and i would like you to continue writing. best of luck!
An old friend broke horses the old fashion way, climb on them till he was thrown off and then he'd climb back on. Eventually the horse figured out that my friend was dumber than the horse and just let the rider stay on him.
Breaking your horse may take a few tries to, keep at it.
I'm in a 'spin dry,' too. Going on day 12 of a 30 day program. Needed it, for sure. I really need a good brainwashing, my wife said. She's right. Anything to escape from this prison that I've wrought on myself. I missed Halloween, missed trick-or-treating because of this insanity. I hope you're doing well. Praying for you. One prisoner to another.
Civilians have no fucking idea.
"Civilians have no fucking idea."
See, that's the problem with so many junkies. They keep telling themselves - and each other - that heroin and the relationship they have with it is special. That others couldn't possibly understand. This in turn helps justify the learned and increasingly self centered behavior necessary to keep shooting dope.
The only special thing about heroin is how quickly it changes people in such profound and lasting ways.
I've finally scrounged up enough change afford enough internet cafe time to allow me to read your blog from start to finish... fucking love it all... isn't it sick we thrive off reading others stories of struggle?
best of luck with it all...
I hate to comment on here cause I haven't seen you in so long, since you moved to Montreal.
I agree with anonymous #3. And here's why.
I once was in a depression so severe I dreamed of killing myself every day. I cut myself. I cried on the subway on my way to work. I wasted away. I was light and heavy and black and holy. Speaking was an effort.
You're sad Tui. You killed it with a poppy burnt to blow your mind. But it's temporary. The killing.
Your friend took his life. It's not your fault. As you know, I have two people who are very dear to me commit suicide. It hurt so bad. It still hurts.
Heroin will not take that away.
I have never done heroin. But I resent drug users calling me a "civilian." I'm strong and I have been through hell and I found my way back. There is always a gentle field and a rocky egde. Yeah sure. I dangle my feet but I mostly play in the field. Sometimes the dandelions are soggy and rotten, but it doesn't last too long.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that drugs aren't that romantic. They aren't true You haven't seen the light. It's an illusion. Aren't you sick of illusions? Don't you want the truth? I think you do.
You're a smart, talented woman. Fix yourself. Fighting this sadness and the drug you choose to treat it .
I'd trade anything to be able to say I was a 'civilian,' if it meant I'd never shot smack. Don't be resentful, be thankful. Of course there's nothing special about addicts and their relationship with their drug of choice--'special' implies something positive or good. Heroin slowly infiltrates its way into your life; one day you wake up and whatever is left of your identity realizes you've lost your soul. And it sucks--because you know you'd go back and do it all over again. Heroin becomes God--and if you're lucky--really lucky--you survive. I apologize for the melodrama but if you're an addict, you know very well: there are no words to do it justice. It's not special, and no, 'civilians' have no idea when it comes to the price that we addicts pay. But it's not a bad thing, not knowing the cost. Celebrate your freedom and pray for the prisoners. It's not easy realizing you are powerless. It's even harder realizing that you're eager and willing to remain a slave. I'd give anything to go back and stop myself from shooting up that first time. I'd trade my soul, if only I still had one, to change it. But I can't because I don't. So instead, I'll just give it all up to Mr. Brownstone. It's easy enough to be pissed and outraged at us junkies--world knows we've betrayed our friends, family, and ourselves, for starters, and we of all people know we deserve it. But don't for one motherfucking second express holier-than-thou outrage or resentment because you don't understand what an addict loses, what they give up, what they PAY to 'earn' that scar. You resent not being in our club? You resent being a 'civvie?' Pick up the needle, help yourself. 'Club Junkie' is always looking for fresh blood.
TUI--good luck. you're not alone (if there was ever any doubt). I wish I knew the answer; but if I did, I wouldn't be here where I'm at. Find some help before it's too late! This is a life-threatening illness--you are a wonderful, unique creation. You matter (listen to me sounding all Jack Handy on you). Don't throw away your uniqueness--don't throw away
your life--no matter how seductive that siren song is. I fight every day. I wish I could say it gets easy or that it goes away, but it _doesn't_. Only you can beat this, only you can initiate the change. I'm rooting for you. --Graiv
You all don't actually believe these stories are REAL do you? Tui, you have an active imagination and write fairly well. But you aren't kidding anyone with these cliched junky stories. It's no cooincidence that JT Leroy is one of your favorites. She was a con artist too :)
^^To the last anonymous- I often get these comments, and I don't really know how to respond. I guess I just wish my cliched junky story wasn't real.
And Claudette, thank-you. I don't know how you found this page. But I'm glad you did. Much love- t
Much love to you as well Tui! You are a beautiful writer and I want you to do well. I believe you will.
xo
c-dette
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