⚠⚠⚠ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠⚠⚠
This is very descriptive. Detailed drug use and sex.
🔹🔹🔹 Reminder: These are my thoughts and feelings from ten years ago. My intentions are to explain the transition in my brain from trauma to addiction. 🔹🔹🔹
I had been oppressed for over seven years, victimized, assaulted, sexually assaulted, brutalized, and emotionally abused. And then I suddenly wasn't any of those things. I was safe. The price? My daughters life. That price was too high. One daughters life and two daughters horror. To live with that was going to take guts. What I didn't realize was that, yes, I was safe from Damion, but I was not safe from myself. I developed a racing mind. Too many thoughts per second. My shoulders were always up to my ears and I was always looking over them. I had panic attacks if I didn't know where my girls were every second. If they were with a friend I needed to know when they left to come home so I could time them and make sure I knew if they were one second late so I could send out a search party. If they were late my mind pictured them laying in a ditch, getting hit by a car, or kidnapped. I started responding to my fear by telling myself "It's okay.....they are okay....." out loud while shaking my head to try to stop the racing thoughts of horror. I was very aware of my behavior but I couldn't control it. I lived in so much fear and anxiety that I developed fear of my fear. The only thing that turned it off was pills. The xanax mixed with the opiates. Well, it didnt turn it OFF, but it slowed it down. My night terrors became an anticipation for all three of us. The girls learned that the second they heard me screaming to try to wake me up......however they could and whatever it took. If I wasn't woken up I was trapped in a horror movie usually opening Poppy's coffin and seeing images that I don't want to describe. My screaming was me screaming in the nightmare trying to wake myself up. Over the years I learned how to scream loud enough that I actually could wake myself up if the girls weren't around. If I ate or snorted pills the racing thoughts and horror movie playing constantly in the background of my mind would slow. If I shot up a load they would momentarily disappear. If I shot up more they would disappear for longer. The physical aching would disappear all except for one thing. Since the moment Poppy died my arms have ached. That never went away. Still to this day.
The girls found comfort in their friends. We lived in a town with a population of 900 people. A beautiful historical town. They walked all over.... to and from friends houses and hung out at the skate park and the park. I loved their friends and their parents. We were always like a small town family. One night all the kids at my house the next night at their friends. Ger and I were hanging out alot. I started school at the community college. I bought a car with one of my financial aid checks. Things were going as well as they could be ...but always with the constant horror present in my mind. It was a battle every day to push that horror back further and further. By what ever means necessary. I was either taking my dad's pills or going to the Block and buying them. If I was with Ger I would shoot up, if I was alone I would snort them. As time went by it was getting harder and harder to be okay with just snorting them. Ger was out of work and living in a hotel. I would go stay with him once in a while. The act of getting the spoon and the rig and everything prepared for a load was just as intoxicating as doing it. I had never hit myself because there was something erotic and intimate about Ger doing it for me. I would lay back and watch the process....then he would come at me....gently take my arm and feel for a vein. He always sweet talked me during this time and spoke quietly and gently. He would tell me to lay down and tie my arm up and ask me if I was ready. Yes. I was ready. Here it comes, baby. Draw back, push in......close my eyes. Then he would take my arm and put his mouth on the injection sight. He would wait for blood to start dripping and lick it up slowly and suck on my arm. The addiction that was building inside me was equally to Ger as it was to drugs. They came as one.....hand in hand. One always with the other. When the ritual was over we would indulge in sexual fantasies until we could do nothing but sleep. The excitement was beyond anything I had ever experienced. Those times.....from beginning to end.....accomplished my desperation of getting rid of all the horror in my head. I craved pills, needles, Ger, and the sex....all as a packaged deal. It saved me. It was enough of a rush to make me forget the abuse ...... and my dead daughter. I was still in such shock from all that had happened that I didn't even have the ability to see red flags. If something took away my memory and pain....even temporarily than that's what I tried to hold on to. Life is short and I knew that all to well. I adapted the idea that having fun and feeling happy was all that mattered. We are all going to die at some point. Maybe even today so why waste time not enjoying life to the fullest? I taught my girls to know the same value. If it makes you happy and it feels good....do it, don't waste one second. Smile. Smile beautifully. Though I couldn't see the warning signs fully, I did know that I was spending alot of time trying to make that scenario (the hunt.....the score....the ritual, the rush, and the sex) happen as much as possible. Ger told me that he got sick if he didn't have pills every day. I understood that but not fully. You can't describe to someone what real withdraw feels like. I mean you can, but until it's experienced personally there's no way you could fully comprehend the nightmare. I was using alot and I wasn't getting sick. I didn't feel well if I skipped a day, but I certainly wasn't dying like he described. Besides, if I did get to that point, wouldn't it be sort of erotically romantic? His ole lady laying in bed, sick from the lack of morphine, needing something to flow through her veins and Ger coming to the rescue and saving me. What a dramatic thought. I wasn't worried because I knew it would end in the way I wanted. A needle, a pill, and sex.
My brain was fucked. Fucked from all the abuse and fucked from losing my baby and fucked from the guilt I carried from the pain I had exposed Collette and Holly too. The transition from that to Ger and all that came with him was intense to say the least. I had to go big or go home because what could match the level of trauma I had been through? Not much.
On a whim I decided to go on vacation.
I told the girls to pick one friend each, pack up for a few days and we were outa there! Collette brought her boyfriend, Dylan, and Holly brought her little boyfriend, Jayson. I brought Ger. No reservations, just drove until we found the perfect place. We ended up at the beach and found a beautiful little A-frame cabin right on the ocean. It was two stories ...the upstairs was an open loft. Kids upstairs and adults downstairs. I told the girls,
"Don't forget I can hear everything that goes on up there!!!! Girls in one bed and boys in the other!" Ger added, "Boys, I don't want to have to kick some ass tonight!" , in a joking yet parental tone. I have to say that moment was something for me. The kids all laughed when he said that and Holly said "You and Mom have to sleep sometime!". More laughter. My girls were being themselves. They were laughing and comfortable and not afraid. Had Holly said something like that to Damion, the whole trip would have been ruined. He would have yelled at her and reminded us all that he was the powerful one and none of us were to forget that. She never would have said that to Damion.....she would have said "Ok" to anything he said with no argument or joking what so ever and she would have been afraid to even try to have fun. So as you can imagine, my heart was overflowing for this moment. The kids were loud, obnoxious, and had the time of their lives. And they were allowed too. So, with all of that, how could I feel that any of this was wrong? There was laughter in the house. No one was walking on eggshells, Ger and I had our adult get down that the kids weren't aware of and it wasn't hurting anyone. Just like two adults having some drinks, right? This life felt off the charts compared to the abusive life from before. This was freedom. For all of us. Freedom to live without fear. We had a great time. We built a fire on the beach and made s'mores.
We all stayed together and I never had to ignore the girls to tend to Ger as I would have with Damion. It was all I could ask for. Except for one thing. One daughter was missing. I would start to feel guilty for having fun without her but that was solved by another trip to the bathroom.
School was going well for me. I enjoyed my classes and I really enjoyed the reading and writing, it kept my mind occupied. I went to school, hung out with the girls, and hung out with Ger on the Block. One day I drove to meet him there and a bunch of his buddies were there. There were three main houses on this block. The main house where an 18 year old kid lived with his parents, his name was Evin. The apartment behind Evins house where Gers best friend, Matt, his wife and kids lived. Matt was the dealer. He had a pocket full of pills at any given time. Blues, greens, D's, sometimes 80's. You name it, he either had it or could get it. Then the house across the street where Matt's sister and her boyfriend and kids lived. They were one big family all with the same interests. The block, the "hood" of the city, was located in what us locals called Felony Flats. There were about four other houses spread out a little further but all within walking distance that were all tied in as well. All friends, all partying. I walked up to Evins house which is where everyone mostly hung out. His bedroom was at the front of the house, so there was always at least 4 people sitting on the bed and others standing, usually waiting for Matt to show up and bless them with his pocket full of goodness. He would show up and in a matter of two minutes exchange enough pills for money to walk back out the door with $500 in his pocket. So I walk up and the boys are all sitting around talking about a job. A job in another state. "Hey guys.....hey baby......what's going on?". Ger informed me that their buddy Bobby got word of a job that they are all going to take. They were leaving in the morning. For good. Oh.......um.....wait, what? But we are having so much fun...... Okay, Missy, keep it together....be cool. Ger tells me that he's been out of work for too long and this is a great opportunity for him. He's never traveled and really wants the experience. I get it. Life is short. Do what makes you happy. It's been fun and we will talk on the phone and be friends. I can live with that. It HAS been fun. Travel, baby, make money, and live your life. My heart was bummed but not broken. I still had.......pills. I mean that's what puts a smile on my face every day, so it still will. I stayed the night with him that night at a buddies house where all the guys were getting ready for their departure in the early morning. We did our thing as best as we could with a friend and his ole lady four feet away from us doing their thing. And we said goodbye. I Drove home feeling somewhat dismayed, but also thinking about the adventure of getting my fix on my own. I was friends with the boys, Matt wasn't leaving, so I was golden.
I started looking for a house. It was time for the girls and I to get out of my parents house. I found one very quickly. It was a beautiful little three bedroom home in the same town as my parents where the girls went to school. So it was perfect. We signed all the paperwork, paid the deposit and first months rent and the girls and I were on to our next adventure.
The house had a pull down stairway to the two upstairs rooms. It had so much character. We loved it. The girls had friends stay the night more often than not. Holly had a friend that lived next door and was always over there or they were at our house. We quickly found out that it felt haunted. And I'm not being funny. There was something in that house. If the girls had friends stay the night they would sleep upstairs, if they didn't, they would sleep with me in my room. Most of the time it was a "fun" scare, but there were a handful of nights that were beyond my ability to handle it. One evening around 8 pm, or 9, I'm not sure but it was a warm night and it was allready dark outside, Holly and I were sitting on the couch in the living room which opened up into the kitchen. (The house was an open concept layout) we heard a scratching sound coming from what seemed like the refrigerator. The refrigerator was at the end of the kitchen right by the back door that opened up into the garage. A.....mouse? No......the scratching was long and slow....like something dragging their nails down sandpaper slowly. Umm.....what the FUCK is that....okay, okay, there has to be a logical explanation. We focus on the movie we were watching. A few minutes later we hear it again. DUDE....that is NOT a normal household sound. I get up and cautiously walk towards the sound....I can't see anything ....or hear anything anymore. I'm about four feet away from the refrigerator now and I tell Holly I don't see anything. All of a sudden the freezer door bursts open with so much force it hits the wall. Holly and I screamed so loud! I ran as fast as I could grabbing my keys and yelling at her to go get in the car. We couldn't get out fast enough! We left the front door wide open and drove to my parents house that night and slept there. When we returned home the next morning we went to check out the freezer. The freezer door was shut, which it could have shut from hitting the wall so hard but inside the freezer our two cartons of ice cream were in the same place I had put them but they were upside down. I remember saying out loud "Okay, you got us. Very funny. We were scared." I don't know who I was talking too but I guess the ghost who messed with the fridge and liked to scare us. There was never a dull moment living in that house.
Trying to deal with the boys at the block without Ger came with some problems at the beginning. The first time I went straight to Matt's apartment and asked him what he had. He said he was waiting on some 80s and I could just chill for a while until he got the call. So I did. I sat on the couch and visited with his wife and played with their kids. Some guy showed up and Matt took my money and said he would be right back. I can't remember how much ....I want to say like $45 or $50. He returned and handed me half of an 80. He said that was all he could get. So I wanted half the money back. He got mad and told me to leave. I was so confused. At this early stage in the game I was very naive. I didn't realize that he was ripping me off, taking advantage of me. Ger had always done the buying. I was alone and Matt knew that I knew nothing. Half an 80 is better than no 80. I sat in my car and hit myself. I sat back for a minute with my head against the seat and then I puked. I was high as fuck. I was used to Ger giving me 30 mg. It was a good thing I got ripped off or I may have overdosed and died right there in my car. I was going to save the wash for the next day but I ended up doing it right when I got home. I was turning into a junkie. Starting to lose the battle with finding my will power. My second lesson in "Junkies for dummies" was getting a phone call the next day and responding to it. One of the guys from the outskirts of the block, everyone called him Knox, called me saying he got a great deal on some D8'S. He said I could get 7 for $75 and just wanted one for a kick. Okay. Sounded good to me. He told me to meet him at a store in a half hour and give him the money and he would have the guy be waiting down the street and be back in less than 2 minutes. Okay, sweet. I did what he told me to do. Two minutes went by, five, ten, a half hour. I called I texted. Nothing. He never came back. Okay......I'm getting it. I'm learning....we are all friends but we are not friends. Pills come first. Period. I can play this game.
This is very descriptive. Detailed drug use and sex.
🔹🔹🔹 Reminder: These are my thoughts and feelings from ten years ago. My intentions are to explain the transition in my brain from trauma to addiction. 🔹🔹🔹
I had been oppressed for over seven years, victimized, assaulted, sexually assaulted, brutalized, and emotionally abused. And then I suddenly wasn't any of those things. I was safe. The price? My daughters life. That price was too high. One daughters life and two daughters horror. To live with that was going to take guts. What I didn't realize was that, yes, I was safe from Damion, but I was not safe from myself. I developed a racing mind. Too many thoughts per second. My shoulders were always up to my ears and I was always looking over them. I had panic attacks if I didn't know where my girls were every second. If they were with a friend I needed to know when they left to come home so I could time them and make sure I knew if they were one second late so I could send out a search party. If they were late my mind pictured them laying in a ditch, getting hit by a car, or kidnapped. I started responding to my fear by telling myself "It's okay.....they are okay....." out loud while shaking my head to try to stop the racing thoughts of horror. I was very aware of my behavior but I couldn't control it. I lived in so much fear and anxiety that I developed fear of my fear. The only thing that turned it off was pills. The xanax mixed with the opiates. Well, it didnt turn it OFF, but it slowed it down. My night terrors became an anticipation for all three of us. The girls learned that the second they heard me screaming to try to wake me up......however they could and whatever it took. If I wasn't woken up I was trapped in a horror movie usually opening Poppy's coffin and seeing images that I don't want to describe. My screaming was me screaming in the nightmare trying to wake myself up. Over the years I learned how to scream loud enough that I actually could wake myself up if the girls weren't around. If I ate or snorted pills the racing thoughts and horror movie playing constantly in the background of my mind would slow. If I shot up a load they would momentarily disappear. If I shot up more they would disappear for longer. The physical aching would disappear all except for one thing. Since the moment Poppy died my arms have ached. That never went away. Still to this day.
The girls found comfort in their friends. We lived in a town with a population of 900 people. A beautiful historical town. They walked all over.... to and from friends houses and hung out at the skate park and the park. I loved their friends and their parents. We were always like a small town family. One night all the kids at my house the next night at their friends. Ger and I were hanging out alot. I started school at the community college. I bought a car with one of my financial aid checks. Things were going as well as they could be ...but always with the constant horror present in my mind. It was a battle every day to push that horror back further and further. By what ever means necessary. I was either taking my dad's pills or going to the Block and buying them. If I was with Ger I would shoot up, if I was alone I would snort them. As time went by it was getting harder and harder to be okay with just snorting them. Ger was out of work and living in a hotel. I would go stay with him once in a while. The act of getting the spoon and the rig and everything prepared for a load was just as intoxicating as doing it. I had never hit myself because there was something erotic and intimate about Ger doing it for me. I would lay back and watch the process....then he would come at me....gently take my arm and feel for a vein. He always sweet talked me during this time and spoke quietly and gently. He would tell me to lay down and tie my arm up and ask me if I was ready. Yes. I was ready. Here it comes, baby. Draw back, push in......close my eyes. Then he would take my arm and put his mouth on the injection sight. He would wait for blood to start dripping and lick it up slowly and suck on my arm. The addiction that was building inside me was equally to Ger as it was to drugs. They came as one.....hand in hand. One always with the other. When the ritual was over we would indulge in sexual fantasies until we could do nothing but sleep. The excitement was beyond anything I had ever experienced. Those times.....from beginning to end.....accomplished my desperation of getting rid of all the horror in my head. I craved pills, needles, Ger, and the sex....all as a packaged deal. It saved me. It was enough of a rush to make me forget the abuse ...... and my dead daughter. I was still in such shock from all that had happened that I didn't even have the ability to see red flags. If something took away my memory and pain....even temporarily than that's what I tried to hold on to. Life is short and I knew that all to well. I adapted the idea that having fun and feeling happy was all that mattered. We are all going to die at some point. Maybe even today so why waste time not enjoying life to the fullest? I taught my girls to know the same value. If it makes you happy and it feels good....do it, don't waste one second. Smile. Smile beautifully. Though I couldn't see the warning signs fully, I did know that I was spending alot of time trying to make that scenario (the hunt.....the score....the ritual, the rush, and the sex) happen as much as possible. Ger told me that he got sick if he didn't have pills every day. I understood that but not fully. You can't describe to someone what real withdraw feels like. I mean you can, but until it's experienced personally there's no way you could fully comprehend the nightmare. I was using alot and I wasn't getting sick. I didn't feel well if I skipped a day, but I certainly wasn't dying like he described. Besides, if I did get to that point, wouldn't it be sort of erotically romantic? His ole lady laying in bed, sick from the lack of morphine, needing something to flow through her veins and Ger coming to the rescue and saving me. What a dramatic thought. I wasn't worried because I knew it would end in the way I wanted. A needle, a pill, and sex.
My brain was fucked. Fucked from all the abuse and fucked from losing my baby and fucked from the guilt I carried from the pain I had exposed Collette and Holly too. The transition from that to Ger and all that came with him was intense to say the least. I had to go big or go home because what could match the level of trauma I had been through? Not much.
On a whim I decided to go on vacation.
School was going well for me. I enjoyed my classes and I really enjoyed the reading and writing, it kept my mind occupied. I went to school, hung out with the girls, and hung out with Ger on the Block. One day I drove to meet him there and a bunch of his buddies were there. There were three main houses on this block. The main house where an 18 year old kid lived with his parents, his name was Evin. The apartment behind Evins house where Gers best friend, Matt, his wife and kids lived. Matt was the dealer. He had a pocket full of pills at any given time. Blues, greens, D's, sometimes 80's. You name it, he either had it or could get it. Then the house across the street where Matt's sister and her boyfriend and kids lived. They were one big family all with the same interests. The block, the "hood" of the city, was located in what us locals called Felony Flats. There were about four other houses spread out a little further but all within walking distance that were all tied in as well. All friends, all partying. I walked up to Evins house which is where everyone mostly hung out. His bedroom was at the front of the house, so there was always at least 4 people sitting on the bed and others standing, usually waiting for Matt to show up and bless them with his pocket full of goodness. He would show up and in a matter of two minutes exchange enough pills for money to walk back out the door with $500 in his pocket. So I walk up and the boys are all sitting around talking about a job. A job in another state. "Hey guys.....hey baby......what's going on?". Ger informed me that their buddy Bobby got word of a job that they are all going to take. They were leaving in the morning. For good. Oh.......um.....wait, what? But we are having so much fun...... Okay, Missy, keep it together....be cool. Ger tells me that he's been out of work for too long and this is a great opportunity for him. He's never traveled and really wants the experience. I get it. Life is short. Do what makes you happy. It's been fun and we will talk on the phone and be friends. I can live with that. It HAS been fun. Travel, baby, make money, and live your life. My heart was bummed but not broken. I still had.......pills. I mean that's what puts a smile on my face every day, so it still will. I stayed the night with him that night at a buddies house where all the guys were getting ready for their departure in the early morning. We did our thing as best as we could with a friend and his ole lady four feet away from us doing their thing. And we said goodbye. I Drove home feeling somewhat dismayed, but also thinking about the adventure of getting my fix on my own. I was friends with the boys, Matt wasn't leaving, so I was golden.
I started looking for a house. It was time for the girls and I to get out of my parents house. I found one very quickly. It was a beautiful little three bedroom home in the same town as my parents where the girls went to school. So it was perfect. We signed all the paperwork, paid the deposit and first months rent and the girls and I were on to our next adventure.
The house had a pull down stairway to the two upstairs rooms. It had so much character. We loved it. The girls had friends stay the night more often than not. Holly had a friend that lived next door and was always over there or they were at our house. We quickly found out that it felt haunted. And I'm not being funny. There was something in that house. If the girls had friends stay the night they would sleep upstairs, if they didn't, they would sleep with me in my room. Most of the time it was a "fun" scare, but there were a handful of nights that were beyond my ability to handle it. One evening around 8 pm, or 9, I'm not sure but it was a warm night and it was allready dark outside, Holly and I were sitting on the couch in the living room which opened up into the kitchen. (The house was an open concept layout) we heard a scratching sound coming from what seemed like the refrigerator. The refrigerator was at the end of the kitchen right by the back door that opened up into the garage. A.....mouse? No......the scratching was long and slow....like something dragging their nails down sandpaper slowly. Umm.....what the FUCK is that....okay, okay, there has to be a logical explanation. We focus on the movie we were watching. A few minutes later we hear it again. DUDE....that is NOT a normal household sound. I get up and cautiously walk towards the sound....I can't see anything ....or hear anything anymore. I'm about four feet away from the refrigerator now and I tell Holly I don't see anything. All of a sudden the freezer door bursts open with so much force it hits the wall. Holly and I screamed so loud! I ran as fast as I could grabbing my keys and yelling at her to go get in the car. We couldn't get out fast enough! We left the front door wide open and drove to my parents house that night and slept there. When we returned home the next morning we went to check out the freezer. The freezer door was shut, which it could have shut from hitting the wall so hard but inside the freezer our two cartons of ice cream were in the same place I had put them but they were upside down. I remember saying out loud "Okay, you got us. Very funny. We were scared." I don't know who I was talking too but I guess the ghost who messed with the fridge and liked to scare us. There was never a dull moment living in that house.
Trying to deal with the boys at the block without Ger came with some problems at the beginning. The first time I went straight to Matt's apartment and asked him what he had. He said he was waiting on some 80s and I could just chill for a while until he got the call. So I did. I sat on the couch and visited with his wife and played with their kids. Some guy showed up and Matt took my money and said he would be right back. I can't remember how much ....I want to say like $45 or $50. He returned and handed me half of an 80. He said that was all he could get. So I wanted half the money back. He got mad and told me to leave. I was so confused. At this early stage in the game I was very naive. I didn't realize that he was ripping me off, taking advantage of me. Ger had always done the buying. I was alone and Matt knew that I knew nothing. Half an 80 is better than no 80. I sat in my car and hit myself. I sat back for a minute with my head against the seat and then I puked. I was high as fuck. I was used to Ger giving me 30 mg. It was a good thing I got ripped off or I may have overdosed and died right there in my car. I was going to save the wash for the next day but I ended up doing it right when I got home. I was turning into a junkie. Starting to lose the battle with finding my will power. My second lesson in "Junkies for dummies" was getting a phone call the next day and responding to it. One of the guys from the outskirts of the block, everyone called him Knox, called me saying he got a great deal on some D8'S. He said I could get 7 for $75 and just wanted one for a kick. Okay. Sounded good to me. He told me to meet him at a store in a half hour and give him the money and he would have the guy be waiting down the street and be back in less than 2 minutes. Okay, sweet. I did what he told me to do. Two minutes went by, five, ten, a half hour. I called I texted. Nothing. He never came back. Okay......I'm getting it. I'm learning....we are all friends but we are not friends. Pills come first. Period. I can play this game.
Comments
Post a Comment