Saturday, December 5, 2009
" Shawna's Crystal Meth Carol" ~Ghost of Tweaker Past
I have decided to challenge myself to something very real. At this time of year we are filled with glee and joy, sad and hurt of what it "should be," or a mixture of both. My friend xxx at SPIRIT IS MY DRUG just took this amazing journey, as did Ebenezer Scrooge in his own life, and I think it will help me.
I would also like to challenge anyone here, as it so applies to your condition ( sex, food, drug- addiction, codependency, recovery, etc.) to do the same.
"Ghost of Tweaker Past"
Tonight my stern new acquaintance leads me through the warm fresh night air. I hold on for dear life. We settle upon my old neighborhood. We descend to the house that we presently refer to as "The house on Saratoga." My ghostly companion nudges me over to the window. I look down and see myself, and Bryson, asleep in bed. This is what happens....
I sleep unaware of even my own existence, lost to the world, in what is often called a "tweaker coma," I awake to my same old bedroom, my same as always situation, and quickly look to find that little tiny bag ...the one that brings me to life... the one that allows me to get out of bed. I do not usually even sleep, but obviously the drugs ran out, cause I am waking in a bed- strange? I do not even wonder how long I have been asleep. I have no idea where my 5 and 8 year old children are. I assume I took care of that before I passed out.
I hurt. I think for a split moment that I should try to get out of bed... that I should think of SOMETHING.... ANYTHING other than getting high. The room is fuzzy. I still don't know where my children are. Perhaps I should go find them. I try to stand and it HURTS. My back hurts, my neck hurts, blinking does not feel so good.
I sit back down and I look at my little stash box and I open it, hopeful. PLEASE tell me there is some dope left! I look in and find nearly a teener! Holy wow! God must love me today! I don't even think back to wonder how I got so lucky. Glass pipe? check! Lighter? check? 2 minutes later I feel no pain. Life is great and I have "clarity."
Well DAMN! would you look at that? Bryson just happens to be laying next to me? didn't notice him before. Poor guy. I bet he will wake up and feel like crap. I better get him up and let him know that somehow we have so much dope left and that he can feel better too!
10 minutes later we are two overly confident and motivated individuals. I look at the clock and it says 6:15. We are in the basement, and in our room, where there is purposely no light. Who wants to acknowledge LIFE happening? I can now remember getting here at 4:00 in the afternoon and I think... Right ON! I have only been "out" for 2 + hours. I didn't do too bad.
I walk out of the room to where there are windows, and it is still dark. Hmmmm dark at 6:15 at night? ) I look in every room and in every "hiding spot." maybe there is more dope or even MONEY in one- we do hide it from ourselves and those tweakers. No luck, so I look for my children. Upstairs, I find... The kids both asleep in their beds. Bryson's mother also asleep in her bed (she has been our dealer and babysitter/roommate for a while now.) I think that all is well and head downstairs to smoke another bowl so that I can do laundry and call Bryson's Uncle P (our BEST dealer) to line up our next deal.
I am so ahead of the game- I have like two hours 'til the kids need to be at school! I just might deserve to smoke ANOTHER bowl! I can make a couple fake checks for people to cash and buy some more dope to sell, and THEN I can even (gasp) make them breakfast! Life is GOOD!