Girl (no longer) On Gear

Parenting dilema #1 of many

2011-10-19T17:35:00.000+01:00

Happy Smiley Carson

I'm in love and happy with my son and yes, I once used to scoff when I heard such things as "they make life worth living" or "they are the light of my life" but I no longer do. Well, actually, thats not correct, I still do as I think 'come on, can't we be a little more creative?' but I get it now. I understand. Its the truth. I can't put into words what I feel for this little lad. I love my twin nieces and nephew beyond belief, but despite this great love for them, it differs to this. I shall note it is not less. I cannot put my finger on it exactly but I suppose it is because my nieces and my nephew had my sister, their Mum to be the protector. But with Carson, I know he depends totally exclusively on me. There is nobody else that will do that. So I have to be OK 24/7, there 24/7, oncall 24/7... Already things are starting to split me in half. My sister got her degree last year and had been searching for a job for ages but had no luck. The market in the UK didn't hold out much hope of throwing up a part-time job for her so she agreed she would look after my son while I was at University until a space became available at a nearby nursery. As it happens, the waiting lists are either shut or open but with no hope of a place until at least September 2012. So, I'll have to get a childminder, if I can. But that is where the split comes in; although my Nanna was a childminder, who was absolutely brilliant and most of the kids she looked after called her Nan too, in my experience I haven't come across many people with this personal touch. My nan is 85 now and although she does look after family kids, I don't want to make her have the baby. Don't get me wrong, she loves her grandkids and great-grandkids but she is retired now for a reason. My son is just hard work! I'm still not getting to sleep in my bed as he refuses to be put in his moses basket so I have to sit up with him all night, and during the day he refuses to be left alone even for a second while I go take a piss! He starts screaming hysterically! I fuss him like hell (well, cut me some slack, I am his mum!) and in a way, I really don't want to leave him, but if I have to, my sister was first choice. But I'm glad she has got a job. I was actually due to start uni on September 12th, after giving birth on August 5th but University here in Cambridge offer January starts thank god, so I jumped at the chance when they offered me this. I would love to leave it till Sep 2012 but I can't unless I want to pay double as University fees are going up. If Carson werent here I wouldn't care about the debt, but the whole point of me wanting to go to Uni is to get a degree so I can get a good job to look after him and make sure he is OK. So, its stay at home and end up an extra £10-15k in debt or go now and have him looked after by someone I don't know. That thought simply already fills me with dread and makes me sick. I just picture undercover programmes on unfit nannies who maltreat the kids, articles on sex offenders whose inknowing partners were childminders... Ha, I feel like this and I'll only be leaving him one day and two half days a week! So... as of now, I'm madly going around trying to get care. I hope I can handle it, I'm sure I can. Things are going well, but the past is always there lingering, especially like it tends to in small places like Cambridge. I don't know, I'm being applauded in many ways but its like two steps forward, and two back all the time. I'm stationed in this exact place, and I can't seem to move on no matter how hard I try.
Sometimes I wish I was just totally down in the dumps again, thoroughly miserable, hopelessly depressed. Sounds odd when right now part of me can be happy. Though, when its like this, I find it a million times worse. Because before, there were no glimpses of happiness, and it had been so long since I'd felt it, I'd long forgotten it. Now I get the occasional flash, or rush when I'm with my boy and it just brings a wave of sadness right after as I know for me, its unobtainable, as it was for my Dad and many other relatives and it frightens me what affect I will have on Carson as he grows older, or how he might be affected genetically.
I try not to think about it too much. I try and just focus on my boy, who right now is sitting on my lap. He will be eleven weeks on Friday 21st. Judging by all the people from the drug scene in Cambs who have had their kids taken away, kids don't always change you to such a degree you completely change. So far, all my habits have but most worryingly, my thoughts haven't. It's odd, I'm not depressed but I know I'm not cured. There's something in the water still.

quick little hi while he is down!

2011-09-13T09:55:00.001+01:00

I have just put my son down underneath his gym, and while I should take advantage of the rare moments in which he doesn't cry to be held, I can't help but watch him! I've put loads of his toys around the gym, of course, he can't play with any of them yet but they have a variety of sounds. My particular favourite is the Fisher Price Precious Planet Lion Crib Mirror. It is beautiful; a large lion whose body is a big mirror with hanging rattle shapes. I read that mirrors are very good for babies so I purchased it from amazon before he was born. He has been staring at it for the past ten minutes or so. Bless him, making all manner of facial expressions in it. I don't know what age babies smile 'properly' but I still find it sweet to see him do so, whether it be wind as people say or merely him twitching his face. He is a baby that usually hates to be put down but under the guidance of a parenting book, I'm slowly reversing it. However, now he is older (5 weeks) and more alert, he enjoys being put down and he explores. Something he wasn't doing when he was on my chest 24/7! He contentidly lies there observing his surroundings. I take him out in my SleepyWrap which I much prefer to his pram, he hated his pram and would scream as soon as I stopped pushing it, so at the supermarket I would get into a right tizz as I was trying to pack my groceries while people tutted at me because of my screaming baby! The sleepywrap is just a strip of fabric you tie, at first I didn't know how to do it or was more nervous I hadn't got it right, but once I looked at a video on youtube I realised where I was going wrong and cracked it. My sis had a normal babycarrier and she didn't like it, she likened it to a ghostbusters backpack!! Baby didn't like it either. It always looked as if his head was jerking around in it whereas with this fabric, it moulds to his body and supports his head so its not flopping about. It was £40 and I ordered it on the spur of the moment because my wrists were really painful and had seized up, I guess from cradling him all day. Literally, it was hard to move them or change a nappy etc. but because I was the only one there, tough titty, had to be done!! He would scream if I put him down so it was impossible to get in the bath, wash-up, tidy, hoover... if I wanted to do any of this I had to get my mum or sis or friends or babies Dad round to hold him while I done whatever I wanted to get done! I was doing everything one handed but I couldn't cook or use the kettle as I was petrified holding the baby and using my one hand would result in a disaster. So I scanned through Amazon and picked the one wrap and phew, its a life saver. I love and live for Amazon now! So easy! I don't get on the internet much anymore, so I purchased a BlackBerry Curve. Wow...what a piece of shit! I am going to return it to Tesco. I haven't been able to connect to the internet once on my own wifi or any other wifi either. I am on Virgin and I see many people have this problem. Now I'm looking at other phones and I really dont know what to get... my mum has an iphone and says get that but I don't want to commit to that as I'm going to university and won't be on any statesupport so I can't afford such a luxury. i could buy it for payasyougo, non-contract but thats nearly £500 and I could save that money for the house to make it nicer. Basically, what phone should I go for that is £200 or under? I want it for blogging, twitter, facebook and calls and texts. I have a really good seperate camera anyway so I'm not too fussed about that. I love HTC's also. Maybe I should just get a contract? OOOOps, baby is starting, wow, he lied alone for all of ten minutes! I keep on reading these parenting books but no decent advice on how to get a baby to sleep in a crib when he hates to be put down and wakes up as soon as he is! Some say its because he is breastfed, I don't know about that however. Even when a baby is bottlefed, he is in your arms for the same amount of time and getting close to you, so its not as if my baby is held more. Well he is, as he cries when I put him down but you know what I mean. I think I need to go to a breastfeeding clinic and get some advice, as this advice is coming from people that bottle feed. I hate the great breastfeeding -v- bottle debate, it causes some real amniosity between people and heated arguments. Personally, its up to you. My mum for instance, didn't breastfeed my sister or I. Not sure why, she hasn't really given a reason. She was indeed a nurse, but when we were born in the 80s I don't think the BREAST IS BEST drive was that intense. It is very interesting to listen to attitudes regarding breastfeeding. When I was in hospital afterwards, I heard women that simply went "urgh, im not doing that" as if it were disgusting. fair enough if thats how they felt. others werent so forthcoming with their reasons for why they werent going to, but they instantly went for the formula. statistics show that social class is something that affects whether a mother will choose to do so. you would think lower classes, thus with less money would breast feed as its by far the cheaper option but no, upper classes are more aware of the health benefits and go for BF. I definately noticed most people my age formula fed thats for sure. I don't know what makes my attitude so starkly different or anything. I can't speak for everyone, but while Carsons Dad comes around (he bought him so beautiful outfits yesterday) he doesn't live with me and I have the time and privacy to devote to breastfeeding. I know its the most natural thing in the world and shouldn't be shameful, too right, but I know some women find it uncomfortable infront of their partners. Shockingly, a member of my family had her son after previously having a child and desperately wanted to breastfeed, so she put her heart and soul into it. Her partner was so utterly unsupportive. I was round their house one night and went into the kitchen to get a cup of tea while the mother had a nap. I saw the Dad with the baby giving him a bottle of formula and it dawned on me what the cause of the problem was- the mother was in tears that her baby wouldn't feed from the breast. Why? The Dad was supplementing the baby with bottles behind the mums back before the Mum went to feed him, no wonder he wasn't feeding from her he was stuffed. I was gobsmacked. The Dads motive- jealousy maybe? I don't know but it was bloody bizarre. I have heard from others that dads have behaved similarly, have wanted the women to give up as they feel a little left out, whether its because they want to take the strain off the mum or because genuinely they are jealous of the close bond I don't know. I don't have that problem. Perks about being a single parent, at least thats one of them I suppose. Baby Carson was sooooo tiny when he was born but now, wow! When you are with a baby everyday you don't notice them growing. It wasn't until I looked at his suite, one that was hanging off him in the hospital so much we had to fold up the arms and legs, and noticed his feet touched the ends and his hands were far far out of the arms and he had basically nearly outgrown it. He looks far less dinky and delicate now and is getting that lovely baby fat they have! He has a lovely double chin- takes after his mum in this aspect definately!! I realised the other day that I hadn't give him adult music to listen to. He has his toys with nursery rhymes but before he was born I read New Scientist which explained studies had found babies could recognise music they had been exposed to while in utero. Maybe at 5 or 6 weeks I had left it too late (though how would I know? this was my front room not a labatory setting!) but I thought I better give him some to listen to. So, I whacked on some Elvis and Beatles but most importantly, this Ska album that I had played constantly throughout my pregnancy. He seemed awfully puzzled by these new noises, and kept amused for a good half an hour or so. I got some nice Philips speakers to connect to the laptop so I can hear music decently. Carsons Dad is a guitarist and a brilliant singer, I hope baby takes after him and doesn't inherit my singing voice!! I know, I know, my birth story... still have yet to write it! I will! Perhaps this afternoon! Though that probably translate as in two weeks to you guys! I will certainly post new pics xxx hope you are all well

Introducing... Baby Carson!

2011-08-30T11:22:00.008+01:00

...Baby Carson Garry Cave...
...Born 5th August 2011 at 11.19pm, 5lbs 12oz...

my twin nieces and my momma holding baby

sorry i have not posted sooner! i am happy to announce the arrival of Carson Garry Cave. he was originally due on the 10th anniversary of my fathers death which was the 24th, so it felt more important than ever to have his grandfathers first name as his middle one. i am so happy, especially since he was home within a week- absolutely no effects from the medication i take! i had taken it down and down so i was hoping and begging it wouldn't happen to us and alas, it didn't- phew! he had to go on a bilibed as he had jaundice, hence why he was in hospital for a week but thats all sorted- apparently, its quite common in small babies born before 38 weeks, and he was born at 37. we are getting on fine, just fine :) my momma slept over the first night but then i was keen to go it alone and get used to the two of us being together and also, getting used to sleep deprivation! which he has given me a lot of- basically, he hates to be put down, and won't. however, he went down for 2 naps yesterday, 6 hours in total. good, because i was so exhuasted as i couldnt doze off holding him as i was scared id roll ontop of him or something, and i couldn't cook anything or eat anything as one handed it was too tricky! and as for getting in the bath- ha! no way, unless somebody came over to help me and have him while i jumped in. Luckily, i live within 5 mins of my family; sis, mum, grandparents and they have been such massive help. I will post again later, including about the labour! I was given pessary gels for 2 days but nothing worked, then in the afternoon of the 5th they broke my waters and labour progressed thick and fast- it was about 5 hours, or just over. It was fine once I had gas & air and an epidural and hats off to my sister for fainting as my little boy came into the world- she always has to steal the show!!! my momma was torn between carefully lowering her to the floor as her legs buckled from underneath her and watching her grandson come into the world. Well, i'm about to take Carson to the store for supplies, he is just finishing a feed. he loves to scream blue murder everytime im in the store, and people tut and roll their eyes- jesus, he's a baby what can i do apart from locking him indoors so nobody else has to hear him cry? ive just dressed him in his little grey and blue outfit which consists of jeans, a hoodie and a lil grey vest. he looks like a mini-man! ALSO: great news! my university says i can start in january instead of september 12th so i have a bit longer to spend at home with Carson. yay!

being induced on august 3rd!

2011-08-03T07:00:00.002+01:00

OK, after 2 months 19days and 8 hours (80 days + 8 hours) of being aware I was carrying a little boy, I am going to be induced! Wednesday 3rd August, 8am.

For anyone that has glanced at my blog, you'll see my amniotic fluid went up, then down, then back up again! Now its down again. I was originally going to have to have him out at 32 weeks, but things returned to normal and he has held on in there. He was breech till the last minute, but has now turned head down, so no c-section for me no more! I'm going to have to have a natural birth after all... which doesn't bother me too much as I was told a c-section would be very painful for me as they couldn't give me more morphine for relief and my tolerance level meant the standard amount wouldnt touch me!

I still can't believe I am going to be a momma. I have this baby moving inside me, but I can't quite believe there is really one in there, if that makes ANY sense! I have everything ready, including an Eric Carle HUNGRY CATERPILLAR nursery, which also doubles as my room. His name is going to be CARSON :)

His original due date was 24th August, so 3rd August is 37 weeks, which is considered full term anyway. Considering I found out so increadibly late, I've done pretty well. I recently graduated from college, I passed the course, and now have my place at University for September where I will study Social Policy. Luckily, my sis will have my boy. The moment I found out I was pregnant, I stopped drinking and I was abstinant from street drugs and ciggies anyway. Ironically though, I was told I'd of been better off not drinking, and taking heroin instead. Im petrified my baby will have FAS as i was boozing all day everyday until I found out :( I hope not, but I;ll love him regardless. I have decided not to drink for the foreseable future, I don't want to risk it at all. I can't do what my Dad did to me, to my son and I won't. I'm still good friends with an ex chief constable regarding drug policy and the need for change. I don't regret my time as a heroin addict for one reason only; i feel its given me the unique position to assist others and change things for the better. i know that may sound corny, and it is, but its also true. I wouldn't be who I am without those years and yes they hurt a lot of people, damanged my health and took years of my life, but its also changed me for the better in some ways.

Any parenting advice is much appreciated :) So come september I will have a baby, a university degree education beginning... things have really turned around. I mean, they had before, but obviously, my son has compounded this even more. To be told I'd never have children was one thing, but finding out i was 25weeks pregnant was another! I;ll let you know how I get on anyway. I was at the bottom of the pit, on deaths door, had nothing, was so fucking miserable... my probs aint gone away but im much better so im a testimony to y'all that it gets better, and it does.

r.i.p amy winehouse

2011-07-25T05:08:00.000+01:00

To say drugs have been a major part of my life for as long as I can remember, both voluntarily & involuntarily, is probably the worlds biggest understatement. I try to not let that define me, but it is difficult not to at times. Despite realising I don't have to follow a career working with addicts or develop friendships & relationships with certain individuals because my primary motivation is to save them from themselves... it is still hard to divorce myself from all things drug related. I don't know how detrimental that is at the moment- I mean, it is not stopping me from moving on and I'm getting a good political and social education as I am constantly following drug policy in various countries, and drug cultures around the world for example. Though, its inevitable I remain pretty sensitive when people comment on the subject, especially if it is derogatory. When Amy Winehouse was found dead this Saturday 23rd July, the news spread rapidly aided by Facebook, Twitter & texts to name a few. I found out within moments of the news breaking; I turned off my TV, locked up and left for my sisters house a mere 10 minutes away. When she opened the door she asked me "Oh my god, have you heard the terrible news?" and I must say, my stomach knotted as it was the same thing I had been told when I lost my close friend to suicide. She must have picked up on this because she immediately told me, stopping my mind from conjuring a list of disasters that might have befallen one of my family in the time it took to leave mine and arrive at hers. This is the same thing I do when I get a phone call in the early hours of the morning, before I pick up the receiver my mind is racing through a million-and-one tragedies that I might be told in a moment, and I guess its my way of preparing. As I logged online, I prepared myself for the harsh comments and cruel words and I wasn't let down I can assure you. They seemed to outweigh the 'with sympathies'. Maybe I shouldn't expect too much of others who haven't had direct experience with addiction, or at the very least learn to not be so offended. But I can't help it. And I couldn't. I went through a list of them, declaring she was just a dirty junkie that deserved to die. "Good riddance smackrat" was another. "She bought it on herself", "She wanted to die", "So what?" and "What about soldiers dying for our country? Or the tragedy in Norway. Why is she getting all this coverage?" I probably shouldn't have wasted my time but I felt I needed to explain to the person that our culture holds celebrities in extremely high-esteem and they always receive major coverage, and until we find politics more pressing than reality tv stars or singers, deal with it. Or buy a different paper or watch a different news channel. People were saying she got what she deserved, and she wanted it. I very much doubt it. While you are in the depths of addiction, you care little for living and you think little of life and you may believe you would prefer death to it. But once you get clean, that feeling goes instantly in most cases. Others commented that she didn't want to help herself, even though she had access to some of the best. Who knows, if she had lived longer, her recovery may have been right round the corner, or a year, 5 years or 10 years down the line. It takes people a long time to end up like they do, so its only plausible it will take an equally lengthy amount of it to change. An addict needs to hit rock bottom, I know that is a cliche but it is true, and only then do they know things have to change, and they either make the first step or they don't. Up until then, you can try whatever you want and so can they- but it will be unsuccessful in getting them to get and stay clean. Its absolutely awful she will never have this chance. Any loss of life is greatly sad, but it especially leaves a bitter taste in the mouth if they happen to be young, and at 27, Amy was precisely that. When a death occurs at the age of 80 or so, you can console yourself with the fact they had a good innings, and lived to really experience many things... and despite the lifestyle she had 27 is still far too young to go. I am 23, 27 is not that much older, and I don't believe at that age you are remotely wise or mature enough to decide whether you wish to piss your life up the wall until you end it. You may think you want to, but on reflection- on sober reflection, they usually discover its not the case. I cannot begin to imagine for a second how her family must be feeling. As it is so soon, there will be feelings of utter disbelief. Comments suggested it was a long time coming, and her family would be prepared, but thats not true. It doesn't matter how long somebody has been carrying on living a destructive life, no matter how much you think you are prepared for it, when it happens, its surreal and unreal. In fact, the longer somebody goes on with their hard living, the more shocking it usually is because their bodies coped through such abuse, you think it will forever. I know this from personal experience. The grieving process is notoriously difficult. I can't imagine what it would be like with the added pressure of being in the spotlight, and having all and sundry commenting on your daughters life and what you should of done to help her, what you didnt do..,. and of course those comments on how she put herself there and basically deserved it. Poor family. I hope wherever she is now, she is at peace. I know I am totally oversensitive to the topic of drugs, and I probably need to toughen up. I can take it when people say things against me, I have incredibly thick skin, but I always feel more hurt for others and feel the need to defend them. And this case is no different, even though I never knew her. I have to wonder though, would Amy be dead if our drug policy weren't so bloody useless? Maybe not. Probably not.

35 weeks and 2 days

2011-07-21T06:17:00.004+01:00

Since the 15th May, when I found out I was 6 months pregnant, things have changed dramatically in ways I never thought possible. My life is entirely different and it is still early days. Certain professionals around me at the moment (and believe me, there are a lot) are telling me to be cautious and prepare for a sudden dip in my mood & huge stress- both of which they see as triggers for drug use. And they are telling me to be prepared for the fact I will have no incentive to not use, as I will no longer be pregnant. It is hard not to become offended when they say such things. I know I shouldn't think myself exempt from relapse, or temptation at the very least, but what nobody seems to listen to is I had been clean since last year anyway, before the baby was concieved, so I had made changes before. I didn't just find out I was pregnant, then decide to get clean, or have a baby to push myself to get clean. I had enrolled in college, attended (and now completed; got my diploma and am off to University this September for my BA (hons) Social Policy)... something that would have been impossible if I were still submerged in the using culture. If you compare 7 years on, with 8 months off, it doesn't seem that impressive. But I can assure you, during those 7 years I never went anything near that length of time abstinent. Despite what it had done, and was doing, to my life the sickness that a user needs to develop; a sickness of what it does to you, your life, your family and friends, relationships, opportunities, your health was not yet there. But 2010 saw an ephinany of sorts, and I knew it was no longer viable to continue as I was. I really became frustrated, bored and tired with the life I was living and knew I had to do something- which was stop using. Simple as that. Though to suddenly turn your back on 7 years of well, not friends, but aquaintances, routine and living life in a way you had become acustomed to was hard. But easy at the same time, once you wanted it bad enough. Even though financially I had more income than I had ever had in my life at this stage I never once got tempted to use. And I could have done, easily, with more than enough money left over to live and pay bills. Using had run its course. So I try and explain to the professionals I am over and done with it, but they treat me as if I am exempting myself and have my head stuck in the clouds. I don't. I know how unbelievably tough motherhood is going to be. Once I found out I was pregnant, the life I had already put to bed was well and truly dead and buried forever, without exception. I have an obligation to my son to give him the best life I possibly can, and I come second to that now, regardless. I am not being silly, but I know I will not go back and use. Ever. It is done, its over and done with. It already was. But now this just reinforces that. The whole time I was sober, never once did I yearn to use, even when I had a really bad problem. When I found out I was 6 months pregnant, I didn't have so much as a cigarette, or a stiff drink to help with the shock. That moment, I just knew it was over. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I am not in some dreamworld thinking motherhood is going to be easy, and hell, I've seen the best of them break down in tears and say they can't cope. So will I probably. But it will pass, as it does, just not with the help of any substances thats for sure. I have complete faith and trust in myself. I could never ever drink or use when I looked after my twin nieces or nephew, as I knew that was a no-no, an inconceivable thing to do... so I certainly couldn't do so to my own child. What makes it so good is, I feel better than I have in a long long time. Before, the thought of being alone with myself, with my own thoughts and feelings without a buffer inbetween scared the hell out of me. Now, I am completely at peace being sober.

I have reduced my meth to such a level, which is uncomfortable (to put it lightly) but its something I wanted to do. There are many myths surrounding methadone use during pregnancy but the simple truth is it is extremely dangerous and 100% advised AGAINST to stop use. It causes miscarriage and early labour. My doctors were even apprehensive to let me reduce it even. They explained to me when you are pregnant, your level of blood doubles almost, so a lot of women need to increase their dose. This is why I am feeling so bad, my dose is decreasing when my body needs more. I know it can be dangerous, but I don't think I am doing it that way; by the time its the next day and time for my next one, I'm just starting to hit the gagging and puking stage. Saved just in time. Up till then, I am experiencing poor sleep, chronic toothache, bones hurt, sneezing, watery eyes. Its horrid, but the last thing I want to do is to go up. And I am not going to either. When he is born, I am going to carry on reducing, and switch to subutex. During this time period, I am going to apply to go into a detox or save up for Detox5 which is the private option. I wanted rid of the liquid handcuffs, and even moreso now I am to be a Mum. Obviously, I want the 5 day option, so my son can stay with my mum or sister (my family all have our 4 homes within 10 minutes walk of each other, i am the only one thats street isn't directly connected to the others). Though my son comes first, and maybe I shall not want to leave him for even that long, and I have to make sure I'm ok and well enough to look after him, so if that means leaving it until after my university degree (its 3 years long) then so be it. What is paramount is my son, and being well enough to care for him. Thats all.

I had my scan yesterday at 8am and basically, I have them every week. This was because my amniotic fluid dropped so low. Then, it went back up again and was fine. Then it went low again. The scan I had yesterday measures the fluid and checks the placenta and umbilical cords blood flow. Next week will measure babies growth. They don't do measurements weekly as the baby doesn't grow substantially enough each week to make a significant mark on the graphs they plot to determin adequete development. So, a really nice male doctor done my ultrasound, and I was with my friend Tom for support. Everything was fine; infact, the doctor said it was "fantastic". It was sweet, sweet relief. I had a clinic appointment in the afternoon at 4pm, which I was told I didn't need to go to as things were fine, but I thought I would go anyway. I did and the consultant had nothing to say- which was lovely, as previously, there was always some bit of bad news like "this baby will be coming early, prepare yourself". It was all positive. Well, the doctor said the baby is STILL breech and next week I shall be 36 weeks, so if he is in the same position they will try and turn him. This worries me slightly, as when there is low fluid, the cord is less buyoant and there is a risk the cord can get wrapped round the babies neck. So you have to be ready for an emergency C-section which is fine, but they are going to have to put a central line in my neck (which involves a local anaesthetic and them using ultrasound to find a vein to insert a needle into) before so if something does go wrong, they can give me anaesthetic RIGHT AWAY. So, I am wondering if they will. The procedure is called an ECV and is successful in about 50% of cases. I can feel the babies head still lodged well beneath my ribs. He doesn't want to move ANYWHERE! awkard little so-and-so.

Good news on the Dad front. I was really worried his Dad wasn't going to bother with him. I think I jumped to conclusions too quickly, as I didn't really take into account how shocking it must have been for him to hear the big news. It was a shock for me and I found it hard to believe and I was the one carrying the boy and could see it clearer than anything, moving around all day long! Of course, who knows how he will be when he arrives but he calls every day, has come round to see me regularly, and is due to again tomorrow. Its difficuilt for both of us, or well, not difficuilt; foreign. This is for both of us, our first child. Its unknown territory. I haven't asked him for anything- financial, psychological etc. but he has offered, given, supported and if he keeps it up after the boy is born then great. He treats his nieces like I treat mine, and has a very similar relationship. For all our shortcomings, we are fantastic aunts & uncles. I thought the worse, but I have a good feeling. I don't think he is the sort of person that could ignore his own child. I very much doubt it.

My belly casting kit came today :) I just need to find someone to assist me doing it!! I have signed up for another blog under naomicave.blogspot.com and I am just working on a layout. I decided to set it up as it will be from the birth onwards, and while I am not going to gloss over my past and my drug abuse history, I just want to use it also for pictures of my son and I and my life. For a long time after I stopped drugs, I still felt defined by them. Then I realised I don't have to be anymore. I wanted a career working with drug addicts, but then I realised I felt I should do it, as I had inside knowledge and experience. NOTE TO SELF: your past doesn't have to define you for the rest of your life. I will still have this one though. As much as I am not ashamed of what I have been through, I know a stigma is going to follow me for probably the rest of my life. A consequence of that is it will probably rub off on my son. It makes me laugh while simultaneously being angry when people judge me and look down on me for what I was addicted to. An example of this is an argument somebody had on Facebook with my sister. I responded, not offensively or anything, and the person began to throw insults at me like "junkie", "smackhead" and revelling in the fact my family had been hit with such a devestating drug addiction. I wouldn't mind, except, this person takes crack cocaine and has convictions as long as his arm. I've never even been arrested. Yet, in the hierachy of drugs, he is ok and I'm the lowest of the low. Its bizarre- I known coke addicts who have robbed old people and violently mugged others and they and others think its ok, but me... god, no, I am evil. Its a joke really. Cambridge is so incestuous, I just know there will be people who will enjoy telling their kids to tell mine what his momma used to take. By that point, I doubt I will care as I will be working with an entirely new life. I fully believe that. Well, I am 35 weeks and 2 days and boy, am I feeling the exhaustion! At the same time, I feel better than I have in years!

Baby is still in, scan later today though!

2011-07-14T08:31:00.003+01:00

To say things are always busy is a chronic understatement! Once I finished college, I thought great, some time to relax, but no; more, time to sort everything out with not a moment to rest. After being told about my amniotic fluid plummeting to 3, dangerously low, and the baby had not appeared to grow, I was upped to weakly scans and intense monitoring- including of the babies heartbeat. Which by the way, was fine and normal every time I went. I spent the week after being told I needed to pack my bags and be on alert for a c-section, very very fraught. I had to force myself to eat, I was shakey, my muscles were so tense. It was horrible, and the way the consultant spoke to me (he was rushed, under pressure, i don't think he meant to be like that) upset me immensely and made me feel as if it were my fault, and he completely doubted me. I knew I hadn't so much as a touched a cigarette, drink, or drugs. I had my wisdom teeth coming through and they were so painful, I am even hesitant to take paracetomol for heavens sake! ANYWAY....
My good friend Tim came with me to the scan 7 days after I was told about the low fluid level, the steroid injections to mature babies lungs for a premature delivery etc. When she done the scan, she found the fluid level NORMAL! Back at over a 10! I was so relieved. My placenta was working fine, the umbilical cord was shown to be working fine. They were very suprised the fluid had gone back up, as they said it was unlikely that would happen. Looking back to the scan the week previously, the specialist had to call me back in because he had taken the leg measurements wrong and the assistant spotted it when she plotted it on the graph and found it to be noticably incorrect. As I said, they were running an hour+ late and were under a lot of stress you could tell, it was very rushed. I am wondering if he made a mistake at all? Is it possible? Who knows. He told me he hadn't grown. Last week, she didn't measure the baby at the scan, only the fluid and umbilical cord etc. When I asked why, she simply said because in 7 days, the measurements probably wouldn't have drastically changed so it wasn't a good enough indicator to go on, whereas 2 weeks gives enough time to show significant difference (or none at all if baby isn't growing) which will tell them instantly whats going on.

So, I am due to go in today at 12.30pm to get the growth scan. And I will find out if it was just a mistake, or if the baby was having a little slump and hadn't grown much, but has now had a spurt. OR the worse thing, which would be, the baby isn't growing at all. I doubt this is the case, I really do. I have grown so much BIGGER. I will have to get a photo up on here. My bump is so HUGE and I was told his movements might slow down because of lack of space, but no way, he is still moving around like an acrobat in there. My tummy moves up and down in waves and it looks so freaky! I end up cross eyed as I spend so much time looking at it when he is doing it!
Tonight, I have the gradutation awards from College. I could only take one person, so I opted for my 85 year old nanna whom I love to pieces. She was devestated during my time on drugs, as was everyone, but she always had faith in me, faith in me that I would come out of it and move on. And I have. So she was my first choice. She will take some photos there and I will get them up also.

Well, before my scan at midday I am popping out with Tim to get some paint for the house. I am doing the front room, hall, bedroom, kitchen & bathroom. But the living room and bedroom are my priority. As I am sharing with the baby, I am going to go for a HUNGRY CATAPILLAR theme. I got some gorgeous things for him in that style from Amazon. I will pop them up later. I love the hungry catapillar by Eric Carle, its the best. A timeless classic. I'm not into bears and fluffy things so I find the HC very cool, and I would have probably made my bedroom like that even if I didn't have a baby!!!
He is still in there........ come on boy, wait some more. I hope everything is ok today. I believe the babies father is going. I saw him the other day, which I will write about later. Love to you all, thanks for your support! Update no later than tomorrow I PROMISE!

Naomi xxx

p.s THERE IS NO HERO IN HEROIN a blog from a mothers point of view. I came across this entry, written on her sons 21st birthday. It is beautifully written, and the memories are amazing. But at the same time, as with anything related to addiction, it becomes utterly heartbreaking. I suggest reading it. I burst into tears by the end of it, and I cry at NOTHING. A very powerful piece.
http://thereisnoheroinheroin.blogspot.com/2011/07/happy-21st-birthday.html

the shortest pregnancy ever

2011-07-03T10:00:00.005+01:00

I was going to write a continuation on Thursday, after I got home from the hospital, filling in all the gaps of what's been happening etc. but things took an unexpected turn and well, I have only just now had the time to sit down and write.....
On Thursday, I happily went to the hospital by myself for my scan. It was the first time I had been alone, but I was feeling positive so didn't mind. The previous weeks scan had shown him to be 3lbs 11oz which was fine but the sonographer pointed out my amniotic fluid was just above normal at 10.1 and anything deemed to be in this catagory is 10-25. She warned me just incase there was a further reduction. My sister had this issue when she was pregnant with her twins, and they had to be delivered 6 weeks premature. The maternity unit was so grossly understaffed you could tell everyone working there was seriously under pressure. It took me 2 hours to get into my appointment, and I saw a lady waiting 5 hours for hers. Naturally, I didn't mind waiting, but I can see why the others who had screaming kids hanging round their legs did. And I felt sorry for this young couple who had obviously arrived for their first scan, and he (in his soldiers uniform) had to leave as they were running so late, and return to base. Every time I have gone in for a scan, my baby has been so awkard. He never wants to be seen properly and Thursday was no different. As I was such a late booker, I had to have all the abnormality scans etc. which have been made pretty tricky by his position in the womb. The specialist consultant had seen me some weeks prior, and concluded from the ultrasound & 4D scan there were no abnormalities to face, brain, heart, limbs which put me at ease. He couldn't get a clear view of the eyes, so this is why I had to return on the Thursday. But my baby has different plans, and the consultant said he had his limbs infront of his face. When he switched it to 4D, clear as anything I saw these two little feet obstructing the facial area. Last scan, he done an internal and tipped the bed etc. to make the baby move position but he didn't even both doing that this time. Instead, he told me that I should just wait until he is born to find out if there are any problems. This really upset me, I mean, I know they were busy and understaffed and under pressure, but that little bit of extra time he could have taken would have prevented me from being like I am now: a big bag of nerves.

My amniotic fluid has dropped to just below 4. The consultant asked me if I was drinking, taking drugs etc. and I proceeded to tell him the absolute truth: no, not a thing. It was apparent he didn't believe me and told me that "well, it must be connected to something,". I explained I voluntarily give drug tests at both the hospital and my own GP surgery and I have so many people, professionals and non-professionals that can vouch for me. It must seem incomprehensible to him that somebody can just stop drinking, but there was never any discussion about what would happen once I found out about the baby: I wouldn't touch another single drop. And I haven't. I know he is probably used to people not telling the truth, but for the sake of my babies health I was upfront and 100% honest from the start, and have continued to be. As the amniotic fluid drops, it means the placenta isnt working as efficiently, so baby isn't getting all the nutrients it needs. As a result, in that 7 days he had not grown anymore- so in 7 days he went from good sized healthy baby to below weight for his age baby. He explained that the baby might have to be delivered early.

I went to the fetal medicine unit and had a monitoring machine put on my stomach to measure babies heart rate. I was in there once before when I was worried about babies lack of movement, and the same nurse had to be called to deal with me when the awkard baby started playing up again. As he is breech, and in the most bizarre of positions (alternates between sitting up dead straight like a buddha or sinking low low down and lying like you would in a hammock, just alternating that for my pelvis!) they could not get his heartbeat, and obviously without that, they couldnt do the test. They had to send me off for an hour to see the consultant, in which time I moved around up and down pacing to get him to shift. That only made a bit of difference, and I had to press down the monitor with both thumbs to get the heartbeat sufficiently enough, and he kept on moving- which made it difficuilt to press the buzzer in my hand which notes everytime he makes a movement. Its amazing how many you dont notice when you are not laying down focusing purely on that,

So, between waiting for my baby to shift, my momma got off work and came down to meet me. We went into see a consultant, who was really good and thorough in explaining everything. I felt better having my momma there, as because she is in the medical field, she retains information a lot better than I and/or can explain it better for me as if you don't have the knowledge, it can be tricky to take it in. She basically said "We could be meeting this baby very soon, possibly this next week" This to me well... it was shocking but it wasn't. I mean lets face it, in about 2 months I have discovered I am 6 months pregnant, had to accept it, digest it, prepare for motherhood... and now looks like I will be having the baby too! Shortest pregnancy ever I am sure you will agree!

I had steroid injections to mature the babies lungs in preperation for the c-section i will most likely have to have if this Thursday, the amniotic fluid has not risen or has further decreased. I am scared of giving birth naturally, but I'd rather have that than him come out premature via c-section. Obviously, i want the best for him and i want him to hang on a little while longer. I burst into tears when I came out of the scan, as I know he probably didnt mean it, but the fact he didn't believe a word I said (even when it was backed up with clean tests on my hospital notes) totally upset me. And when he added it must be connected to something, I felt so small. I know many women it has happened to, and there is no explination in most cases. Just one of those things. I have done everything right, by the book since I found out. I drink litres of water every day, no caffiene, eat really well, loads of fruit, take my vitamins, exercise... and now in 7 days its gone from "fine healthy baby" to "baby hasn't shown any growth, might not be getting enough nutrients". I don't know how steady weight gain is for babies in the womb, whether it is always at a constant or whether it can vary per individual, with not much of a weight gain one week but the next a sudden surge. I mean, he did increase a lb in 14 days, and had been. Then in 7 days he didn't put on half a pound. I didn't get much time to speak to the scanner, as it was clear there wasn't time. I wish I had, it would have put my mind at ease.

Now, I am really trying hard to relax but I'm so on edge. I finished my mega essay on Marxism, and am just tying up some loose ends regarding college. All our work is marked via the external moderator next week, and we have been told we must be contactable via phone if there is an issue that needs to be sorted. I have told my tutors I could be in the hospital giving birth. That is adding to the load of stress, I feel something will go wrong and I won't be able to adjust it in time and I won't get my university place. EVERYTHING is getting to me. I just want a healthy baby. Thats all. I am being made to count his movements and that is even more of a stress, as babies dont kick all day but they said if you are unsure, get worried etc. come in immediately. I know he goes to sleep for a while, but what if I mix it up with something badly going wrong? I guess this is what motherhood is about WORRYING. A LOT. For the rest of our natural lives. So basically, guys, I may very well have a little baby boy come the end of this week. It is Aidans birthday on Thursday, would be funny if he is delivered then.
All I know is I would not be coping without family and friends. No way.

I'm not religious, I'm agnostic but funny how in times of complete hopelessness you find yourself reaching out to something, praying to something, for help. I find myself doing it, begging someone or something for hope and for everything to be ok.

Little update for now

2011-06-29T08:46:00.003+01:00

The weather here in Cambridge is absolutely beautiful. I'm just sitting in my rocking chair, eating philidelphia bagels and cherries, enjoying the view of the trees outside my window against the bright sunny sky. It is no countryside view, but being born and bred in the city, its what I am used to and I find it beautiful still in its own way; even though fields after fields as far as the eye can see are replaced with houses! But I find something rather curious when thinking of all the people that live in such close proximity to me; thinking of their lives, what they do, how they feel, where they are from... I've always been a keen fan of people watching. I remember every time I went to London I would go upstairs to the Wetherspoons in Victoria Station and get a drink and sit out on the balcony overlooking the departures board. I loved to watch the hundreds and hundreds of people passing in and out, the goodbyes and the hellos after long absences. I love people, hence why Sociology grips me so much.

Speaking of sociology, I am just finishing off my sociology essay on marxism. College has now finished, and I just have to get in my last bits of work in order to pass my course. My last unit in sociology was a research project we had to conduct; I do hope its ok and I pass. It would seriously, seriously break my heart if I didn't. As this was the last project, and due in last week, it leaves the time to amend it should it be rejected at virtually zero. I'm sure I will be ok, I've got through everything else. I guess its natural to be nervous about it, even more so now I have my university place in September, and my son being born days before that month. I had applied for university, and indeed started by course, long before I both concieved and found out I was pregnant, so I will say clearly: I did not have a baby as an incentive to turn my life around! On my last post I recieved a rather curt comment about what a tragedy my pregnancy was, and how babies shouldn't be used to get clean. I know this and I didn't do this, and well, my reply is in the comments section also. Having said that, obviously, I am determined more than ever to suceed at university (and life) and my drive to work and get a career has increased by a million. I think thats natural for anyone that becomes a parent.

I am so busy I seldom get time to stop and reflect on my situation. I don't get time to pause and take in how utterly mad the situation is. With all my symptoms described to the doctors, and being told I had a stomach ulcer and swelling of the liver, I didn't look elsewhere for any other possibilities; especially since I was told pregnancy naturally for me would be pretty much an impossibility. And having never had a period since the age of 17... well, that speaks for itself. I don't remember much from being at the first scan and being told I was 6 months pregnant, especially since I was told I was 4 WEEKS pregnant, so I was expecting that. I don't give myself much credit, if any. But I was told how well I was, and how well I had done; from recieving a shock like that I instantly adapated and didn't have so much as a cigarette (well, I'd given up smoking anyway but people have them when in shock, right?) or a stiff drink. Yeah, I thought, yeah. I know people without alcohol problems who found out and got drunk, so for somebody with poly-drug misuse issues, I think I did pretty well. Again, I was clean from street drugs from last year before the baby was concieved so I didn't stop because of him. I was changing for me, because I was tired of living how I had been.

Before I discovered I was pregnant, things were on the up, but now, its even better. Relationships have changed dramatically; my mum and I get on amazing. We were always close, but my behaviour made things fraught. Not any more. Same for my sister.

I am off out with my Momma to do some shopping, a little breath of fresh air before I have to return home and finish my essay. I have spent so much time indoors finishing off my work I think I am developing cabin fever!!! I kept on telling myself "just finish these essays, then you can RELAX!" but nope, once I am finished I have to decorate the flat, then put up the cot, sort out storage, get rid of some of my clothes, pack up my craft stuff and put it in the attic, finish baby shopping, pack a hospital bag, write my birth plan, decide whether to go to Bradford 24 days before my due date (afraid of going into labour there!!!).... people are telling me I should be enjoying some 'Me' time as its the last I'm gonna get of it, but I can't really, too much to do!

I'll write some more later, more baby stuff, me stuff etc. etc.

so much has happened... just a little snippet for the moment

2011-06-12T08:50:00.002+01:00

It is 5am in the morning, I haven't been to sleep all night, but then I was at Aidans from Thursday so I slept weird hours. Slept all day yesterday and didn't wake up till 9pm, so technically, why would I have needed to bed down? I just done it really to not make any noise to wake my sister or her son, Louis (the twins are at a sleepover). I slept in the girls room and watched "The House Of Sand And Fog" starring Ben Kingsley & Jennifer Connelly. I was going through my sisters DVDs and I had never heard of it, but she assured me it was good. I took it upstairs after we watched 127 hours, about the climber Aron Lee Ralston who got his arm stuck under a dislodged bolder for precisely that long, becoming free only after he had been forced to amputate his lower arm. I remember originally reading that article in the paper and wondering how the hell you could bring yourself to do something like that; I think I would just give up. But you never know until you are put there I suppose- there is nothing more scary than death to most people, so the amputation would be the better option. I tried to sleep, or send myself to sleep by reading but it didn't work, and because I had been without the internet for days I went on that, then I tried the film. Had me glued, I really recommend it. Also had me crying to at the end, which I seldom ever do (cry, that is) EVER. I'd left the curtains open and watched the sun come up in the background.

Lots has happened, I have had 3 scans now and the last one took an extremely long time, as it was done by a specialist. It was in 4d and was to check for any problems etc. indepth as obviously, I've been running about for 6months not knowing I was carrying this little child inside of me. Just by the grace of god, before his conception I had just got my life together, I had come out of hospital where I had had that op and I started to really tire of way things had been for the past 5+ years; which meant no drug usage. So that is one thing the boy hasn't been subjected to, luckily. I am starting to think it was because I stopped using that I managed to become pregnant. I hadn't had a period in years upon years, literally, since I was around 17 or 18 max. So was I just about to, but one of my eggs found a snug cozy lining and inbedded itself in there just by sheer, sheer chance? I have never been pregnant before, and my gp was pretty sure I would not ever get pregnant, hence why they never linked my symptoms (chronic sickness; at least a few times a day, ten+ times at its worse, weight gain, stomach area enlarging which was thought to be fluid retention and swelling of my liver) to that possibilty. I got given a little biology lesson and my midwife told me how once released, an egg only survives for 12-24 hours. So considering I only slept with the Dad once in that month, thats sheer luck (bad or good; you decide. i thought it was bad at first, but cut me some slack, i was told i was to be a mum in less than 3 months). I go again this Thursday. I went last Thursday, the 2nd, which was the scan in 4d with the specialist and one thing of slight concern popped up, though they didn't make a huge fuss about it, and my momma, who was a midwifery student about 6 years ago but has now returned to work as a general Nurse visiting people at home who cannot make it out e.g cancer patients in their last days, folks who have been in very bad accidents and cannot get to the doctors as its too painful/difficuilt etc. etc., didn't either- and she medically, has more experience than I and would have understood it a lot better. So if it didn't alarm her too much, I could gauge from that that I shouldn't either, yet. This is what is up... the third scan showed that he had not grown, and abdominally he had actually decreased in mass. These were 3 scans 7 days apart each. Obviously, this instantly made my stomach lurch, and the happiness I felt at him telling me throughout the scan my baby was appearing perfectly formed and without abnormalities, disappeared as quick as it came. He told me not to worry. Not to worry? You have just told me my baby hasn't grown since last week, and has infact, decreased in size round his waist!!! He told me though, there was probably a good reason for this, so I should chill. The baby was lying in a really awkard position (like he has done EVERY time. the sonographers have got me to thrust my hips, jump up and down, wiggle but he wont move!) so he needed to do an internal scan (a transvaginal- hey, this is pregnancy & childbirth... leave your dignity at the door! lots of probing, poking, etc. to ensure a healthy baby is carried and delivered). This scan which lasted near to the hour was done internally as opposed to the "normal" way you see it done with jelly on the belly. He told me that an internal tends to be much, much more accurate than your basic ultrasound. So he thinks that chances are, he has just had much more time to measure the baby, in lots of different angles and has the measurements correct to the T, whereas the others were off a bit. I hope so. I'm praying. I thought two weeks, I have to wait two weeks!?!? but obviously, there was no point in me returning in a day or so or a week because he wouldn't have grown or god forbid, not, enough for them to realise if its a) or b). I spent the first 3 or 4 days after worrying myself sick, then I thought, come on relax, focus on positive things, because I couldn't see myself lasting for 2 weeks like that. To distract myself I tried my essays & projects, that I have less than a month to finish- pressure! Then tidied and cleaned my house, its a one bedroom flat and I shall be living in it for the foreseable future, then looked at baby essentials I need and tried to plan out my finances a bit better. Then, to cheer myself up, I went to Aidans where like two weeks previously, I spent the time with him doing nothing but giggling and giggling. He told me I was one of the funniest people he had ever met, and I agreed that it was the same for me with him. By far he takes the funniest male crown, my sister the female. I find it fantastic I feel so laid-back with him and we have the same taste in films, shows etc. and we have seen a lot of the same stuff. Basically, he appreciates the things I appreciate and since I'm pretty diverse and odd when it comes to humour and what I find amusing, its unusual to find a match. A match in humours? Is that what you call it? It's great with him, I'm glad I did lose touch with him for a while as I wouldn't of liked to have seen him in the state I was in. No. Way. So happy I have got back in touch with him and picked up where we left off with our friendship. I'm used to having friends that are purely there for their own benefit, and nowhere to be seen when one is really needed. He is an exception to that, by far. Bless him. Not many people would give up their home to a waif and stray undergoing a detox, but he did. And I can't express my apprecation enough. I was thinking of having my sons middle name as 'Aidan' but nothing is set in stone yet.

4 weeks and 2 days without a drink so far. I really don't know how I have done it, I think the first reaction of a "Normal" person, let alone a drug addict, upon hearing the news you are 6months gone would be to have a stiff drink or at least, really really crave one. I have been by myself a lot of the time and have not had the slightest urge to buy a drink. I have eaten lunch out with others drinking, and have not once craved alcohol. I am not gloating to anyone else with alcohol problems, as its not easy at all to do, I am not advocating getting pregnant to stop yourself drinking, because I know a lot of people who carry on regardless... just what with all this stuff I need to sort out in less than 3 months, the last thing I need is to be battling drink cravings. Luckily, they have been completely obsolete. I always knew alcohol made worse my anxiety & depression, but I never really realised to what extent until I stopped. I am much, dare I say it... better? I'm wondering, is this how I will always feel if I stay off alcohol, is this how it is sober? Because I am told pregnancy does some crazy things to your mind, and I'm starting to wonder whether I'm on a mad crazy happy high that will suddenly disappear after the birth. I hope not. But even if it were, I am glad for the reprieve.

So, it is now 8am and I can hear the Louis is awake. 15 months he now is, and he is starting to really chatter away. He is absolutely obsessed with cars! And expresses this by repeating the word over and over and enthusiastically ripping up the motoring sections of the daily newspapers, getting rid of the text so he can be left clutching images of various motors. I am so happy I am having a little boy. Not sure why, as I never wanted kids or thought about having them, so I never even went over the thought in my head as to what sex would I like my children to be should I ever have them. Anyway, I will leave you with this scary picture; the specialist who done my 4d scan printed off about 30 pictures and he pulled off this one and said I could have that one as "it wasn't that good, so he didn't need it". Oh, I thought. You have to pay for the 4d scans and subsequent videos and photos (to my knowledge the hospital don't do it, its independant places, i think they use 4d strictly for medical need only, not just freely as an extra) so I am suprised I got one really, as they are used for medical reports and notes. It wasn't clear enough to be used in said notes, and as case studies are used for practise, revision and to teach future medical practitioners, it was surplus to requirements- so I got it. It was a bad one, looking up from under the babies chin. It looks quite scary, and it looks as if he has a massive massive pair of lips if you look :) hehe. I can assure you he doesn't, look again, and you will see his top lip and find it is normal, but its hard to make out anything bar the nose and yes (again, its taken from an underneath angle so its not great). Oh well. I got to see him on screen for a while again. My momma was there, and the position I was in 2/3s of the time meant it was only her that got to look. She has twin grandchildren, and a grandson but this is the first time she got to see them on a 4d scan. Things are great with me momma and I these days, our relationship is wonderful.

P.S the reason I wanted to write a post was because of something I was thinking about in the early hours as the sun came up. and i totally forgot to write it. maybe thats a good thing, as it means it disappeared from the forefront of my mind where it was getting at me. as i was lying on the bed, unable to sleep, i got my skin doctors pregnancy cream and started massaging it into my tummy. after i have done that, i leave my tummy out while the cream absorbs so it doesn't get on my pjs. i felt the boy start kicking and i looked down... i was captivated, because he was moving and i could visably see it. watching him go from one spot to another, it reminded me of a waterbed and what one looks like when its moving once you have gotten off it. my momma told me she remembers sitting in the bath watching me move from one side to the other, that was at about 8 and a half months, so i didn't expect it this early. it was lovely, and so... weird. i must have watched him move about for about 20 minutes. and then, i got sad. i got sad that carl doesn't appear to give a damn. he stayed in touch after i told him, and we txt one another daily, but it was i who initiated it. i was kind of, making sure he was involved early on so there is a better chance of him being there for his son later on. he never responded straight away, like I would. he would leave it hours and the responses were so strained, like he was really put out at having to do so. he knows the situation with the baby, and how i find out whether he is ok this thursday. i doubt i will hear from him before then. i know it must have been a shock for him too, and i can't say how he will be until after he is born, as who knows- it may change him completely. but from what i gather, this hasnt been the major turning point he needs to get his life together. I know its different for the woman, as she carries the baby, and I had no option but to stop drinking and get my life together (well i did, but not if i wanted to keep this baby and raise him as best as i possibly could), and maybe he will see the boy and it will make him want to change himself too. He hasn't asked about his birth (e.g when he can come to see him, names, how we will share his care) and anything after that. His parents know, and they are nice people, they love their 2 existing grandkids to death, but will it be different with mine as the existing 2 belong to their daughters, this is their sons child. I said to him I don't want any money, thats not the reason I contacted him. I just have this nasty feeling he will carry on using drugs (he said he only occasionally uses but I suspect thats because he runs out of money, not because he is able to ration... but i might be wrong. Though my gut feeling suggests he will carry on leeching off his parents, letting them (well more his mum) baby him and not giving two hoots about his son aslong as he gets his drugs. I just envisage my son waiting for his dad by the window, and him not showing up, frequently or being late and obviously under the influence thus starting an argument as I refuse to let him take him. He has no desire to change I don't think, and why would he when his parents provide him with money, a place to live in the form of his own flat, bail him out constantly and let him steal off them/pawn their possessions and NEVER ringing the police. Oh and they buy him his cars, and pay for them to be on the road, thus giving him transport to get said drugs, and transport their possessions in to take to the pawn shop etc. etc. I felt sad that he was missing out on the little things (such as seeing him move about on the inside/outside.) Not in a romantic way, GOD NO, in a father way, its sad he is missing it. Missing out. Or perhaps its more sadness for my son. And perhaps I am jumping the gun. Anyway, for the lack of him, there are many other people that are witnessing it.... Aidan, Momma, Tim, my sister, grandparents etc. etc. This baby has a lot of people to love him. Already he is one lucky boy.

6 months pregnant

2011-05-25T23:27:00.003+01:00

my doctor said my constant 24/7 sickness was my stomach ulcer....

and the swollen belly my liver damage from alcohol, which was also causing the rapid weight gain.....

but i learnt on the 12.5.11 that i was actually 6 months pregnant (at least)

i have another scan tomorrow, that will confirm exactly the age. everything appeared normal, no abnormalities, thank god. size is good, accurate to the date, but it could have been concieved even earlier and the baby is undersized for its gestation, but the nurse was pretty confident it was not the case. i have completed an alcohol detox, have not drunk a single drop for 11days and believe it or not have no intention to.

i was so shocked when i found out. i had not been with anybody since i split with the dad last year, until April this year. the gp, the midwifes etc. all done examinations before the scans and could feel absolutely nothing, and couldn't locate a heart beat (which the baby doesnt start having until 8 weeks i think) even blood tests, where the hCG hormone levels can determin how far gone you are said i was 4 or 5 weeks. i was so happy, that it wasn't the bastards, whom i cannot call that now. civil. must be civil. my sister came with me to the scan, and i just had a feeling that with my luck, i would have the violent, drug-addicted thief for the dad. and so i did. when she said 25 weeks, i was stunned. i just stared at the ceiling and couldnt comprehend a thing. i was so stunned. when you listen to a gp, who weighs you weekly, tells you you wont concieve with no periods... you dont think pregnancy will happen. i had no idea. they asked if i wanted to know if it were a boy or not, i couldn't speak, my sister did for me but even she could tell it was a boy already as they had switched to a 4D scan. usually, you have to pay for that, but I think the lady scanner was worried i was lacking maternal feelings and wanted to envoke some by showing more than just the grainy black and white images i got above. I was worried I had no maternal feelings, but now I know I do, because I would never have given up alcohol for anyone or anything. But it was as easy as pie. I even had alcohol in the house, went to eat in pubs with my mother (we saw the monkees at the albert hall in london on the 19th, and it was the first time i had had fun sober for years) and just totally resisted and didnt crave a drop. i hope no damage has been done. i pray. and pray. and pray.

i told the dad. i thought he had a right to know. and his parents and both sets of his grandparents. has he bothered? no. he didnt even ask how i was, and i was in hospital as i hadnt felt the baby move for days and his heartbeat was extremely low, and i was in there for about 8 hours being monitored. did he ask, care? no. i sent him the scan pictures and he hasn't even looked at them yet. i got so depressed yesterday, i just couldn't comprehend how he couldn't care about his son. i have this scan tomorrow, and it will show any problems, and he says he cannot come "his car is in the garage". aidan is going with me. im cringing at the thought of them going "oh, is this the father?" and me having to say "ummm.... no," but i need the support. sad isn't it, the babies own father cares not an iota, yet some other bloke does.

so yes, my son, estimated to be born 24.8.11 oddly, the day my dad was found dead. well not that odd, there was a 1 in 365 chance! just what to call him? what goes with CAVE. I love Carson. Everyone I know hates it.

I am going to be a mother in less than 3 months *pinch*

odd. old aidan friend. life.

2011-04-05T00:48:00.002+01:00

when i was 17 years old, i was nothing but an innocent young kid, that had had no more than a little innocent fumbling. one day, i was coming back from college, and i stopped into asda at this mini shopping complex called the beehive (the only remotely insect like thing about it being a steel HIVE sculpture in the middle) to get some soya milk. as i was walking out listening to NIN CLOSER this geeza apprehended me and tugged my earphones and put one in, proclaiming to love the beat or something.... didn't care for that, no, he told me what lovely eyes I had. being a little 17 year old twerp with no self-esteem i was overwhelmed by his niceness. a couple of weeks later, as he lived but about 10 mins from me at the time, i bumped into him again on mill road. we talked, and he asked how old i was. as he was 27, and i 17 he proclaimed to say i was too young which naturally I thought outrageous!!! you never can tell a teenager they are too young. boy was i pissed. but again... i bumped into him later on and well, my immaturity obviously didnt exist or maybe he was just a major perve who didn't care! no, he was not the latter, i was a very grown up teen. but yeah, so he eventually gave me a chance to talk to him properly. not before long, i went round his, and i had sex with him. this was my first ever actual sexual partner. before i had fumbled as you call it, with the crappy attempts at handjobs and whatnot. i wondered if he actually ever believed me. i just kind of let him take the lead.... and in between meeting up with him again id embarrasingly type into google "how to give a blow job" or "how to have sex". lets just say, i shared a computer with my mum so one day she was typing in "how to..." and a multitude of sexual acts appeared. luckily, i had a liberal mum. hell, i wasn't 13, i was 17, i guess she was relieved i hadn't been having sex as a kid and got up the duff or something. anyway.... am i the only person who got to have sex with somebody first time round and they actually were really good and respectful etc. etc. however, i started getting into heroin big time. he would come over and i would be puffing away on heroin, and i dont know how ( i am going to ask him) i just lost touch. i have changed my number like 7 times a year due to my phone getting stolen etc. etc. but he maintained the same one. my mum had it on her phone so sporadically i have sent a txt to him. i sent one a few months ago promising to get in touch and see him. i didnt because i am a cunt. but he text me last week, and i said I WILL see you. and i kept that promise. i went round and saw him friday, and left sunday. it was a really happy time. i told him, admitted everything that had gone on during my heroin addiction as he wasnt there to see an iota of it. if he had, he wouldnt be talking to me now. i should have probably lied and said id had a wicked easy life but hey, thats not what friends do. i feel a bit selfish, i just went on and on about myself. oh well, im sure he doesn't mind. it was so nice to meet him again, because he is like a male version of me (in the sense he understands what it is like to not fit in with society and the general population- he doesnt try to top himself or swallow bits of glass or bleach or anything- at least i dont think). it made me happy to see him. very happy. i am never happy. oh, now i've said that, i remember im not. i was with him until sunday afternoon, this morning, monday am 4am i got up and was vomitting so badly for about an hour, obviously all the bile and crap was up within 5 or so minutes, and the rest i was just retching and retching, spit that was basically blood. it scared the shit out of me because towards the end i just couldnt stand up anymore and had to lie on the floor, i couldnt lean up into the toilet so i just let myself vomit down the side of my cheek, and let it roll onto the floor. pure fresh blood. now my back hurts so much i cant sleep. its 1:08am and thats fine, not late but i cant get comfy, im kneeling on the floor typing on this for some relief. i just feel so ill. i have a lot of tablets, but tablets are risky. the only guarantee is a noose. and train tracks. i am so sick and tired, its going to take so much to get through the next few hours, im not sure about the day, or the week. i have totally had enough. as much as i was happy to see my friend, its just made me realise barely anybody is understanding like him. im going to do a spot of self-harming; im going to now slash my feet and neck (not the jugular, this is not suicide or an attempt) and then go to sleep. ill be happy then. or content, or whatever. im just bored. sad isn't it, most people my age would get off going out and pulling somebody, having sex, an orgasm, a big bar of chocolate, a fight... i just dont get any of those nice sensations unless its at my own expense. 21st century spoilt 20-summits, eh? dump us in an african ghetto and then see how much we hate our lives.

stomach ulcers & knowing heroin will make it hurt less

2011-03-01T02:37:00.003Z

Urgh, junk sickness- that is, for all non-junkies (you lucky lucky things- never touch opiates they are not cool, romantic, glamourous... unless you find sucking off hideous fat old men in their cars down a backalley all the previous) the illness you suffer when you body is in withdrawal from heroin... well, it is curable if you manage to get the money and score more heroin. Whereas, this stomach ulcer, and the constant vomitting every morning, is not curable. There is nothing I can do for it. I stopped drinking for a bit, and I was still sick. Annoying thing is, I am not losing any weight. You expect to lose weight, well, no, you don't if you are back drinking AND taking vitamin drinks to replace lost nutrients. My teeth bother me also. They must be getting a right acid bath. Poor buggers. Filling-less, perfect. Not for long, even on sugar free methadone I am sure.

My momma took me to IKEA on Friday, I had never been there before. I got a load of shit, about £500 worth and we couldn't lift it, so I got shipping. When I gave them my postcode they thought "ding ding ding! posh cambridge people!" WRONG! quoted me £140, and when i said WHAT?! they downed it to £85. ok? no, because i get home to find out my sister got it for £35! Anyway, i needed a bit of bedroom furniture so now i have it. it gets here tomorrow.

Today I met my momma after work and she dropped me on Mill Road as she waited opposite the bank. I used her card (my Visa as its a student account- well, not anymore, but was, and it had a maximum £250 withdrawal limit per day from a ATM, which still is the case as I haven't changed it) so I had to whack £350 in her bank, plus another £150 tomorrow morning. As I was standing there in the massive queue, I saw opposite the toilets (the public ones, where you pay 20p to take a piss, or hit up... and the junkie code means you always leave the door propped open so a dopesick addict can use it after you if they dont have the means to get in and passers by wont donate a 20p piece). and next to that the mental health centre i worked at during my school work experience when everyone else went to sweep hair off a barbers floor or work in a corner shop, was the public phone boxes. Used to be 4, now there are two. I saw four shady figures I knew/know walk up to it and deposit how much it takes to make a public phone box call these days (60p?) talk, and begin striding off with great purpose.

I cannot say I was jealous, or wanting to join them. Ever since I got clean, man, I have nearly 3K saved up already, just since November, but I wanted to just go over and ask them if the heroin drought was over. Why? I don't know, not like I was going to buy any.

Was I?
I don't know. No, my mum was in the car opposite. Im just going to stay away, I don't talk to anyone anymore. I just hate all these programmes on TV, documentaries about heroin.... it was my only friend in the world. Well obviously, it wasn't, its a bloody powder. But it got me through tough times. Now all I have is booze, that causes me to puke up blood and bile each morning.

Life, ain't it beautiful.

Career Burglar Gets Two-and-a-half Years In Jail

2011-03-01T01:00:00.000Z

http://www.cambridge-news.co.uk/Home/Career-burglar-gets-two-and-a-half-years-in-jail.htm

Burglary was Anthony Gawthrop’s career and he was a hard worker, with a CV boasting loot worth more than £130,000 from 114 raids.

The 25-year-old, who said the only thing he was good at was breaking into other people’s homes, was targeting almost one property a week for much of 2010.

But the seven-year spree across the Cambridge area came to an end after Gawthrop tried to sell a pilfered car to an undercover police officer and left his mobile phone at a victim’s address.

Yesterday, Gawthrop was jailed for two-and-a-half years at the city’s Crown court.

Judge Gareth Hawkes¬worth branded him a "professional and prolific house burglar" but halved the expected term of five years after agreeing there were "very exceptional circumstances" in the case.

The court heard the thief genuinely wanted to put his past behind him and had beaten his drug addiction.

Gawthrop, of Arran Close, Cherry Hinton, pleaded guilty to two counts of burglary, and asked for a further 112 to be taken into considera¬tion.

The earliest of these dated to 2003 and 38 happened last year.

He admitted one charge of attempted burglary, and owned up to a further 10 – plus cannabis possession.

Gawthrop was already infamous for vaulting out of the Crown court dock in 2005 and since then had received two jail terms, each of three-and-a-half years, for numerous burglaries and cocaine supply.

John Farmer, prosecuting, said the first of the latest burglary charges dated to April 28 last year, when Gawthrop was one of three intruders who broke into an empty house in Longstanton and made off with swag valued at £3,200, plus two cars, valued at £21,500.

While the raid was in progress one of Gawthrop’s accomplices’ called a police officer who was working undercover and offered to sell him one of the cars, a Nissan valued at £10,000 – and the deal was done for £400 in Milton just minutes later.

Gawthrop was not arrested at this stage to allow the undercover operation to continue and he struck again on June 9, when he was caught red-handed trying to break into a house in Bar Hill with two co-conspirators after a neighbour dialled 999.

Then, on August 28, the home of a Polish family on Minerva Way in Cambridge was broken into, and a laptop computer and mobile phone were stolen.

But Gawthrop left his phone behind, with pictures of himself on.

Mr Farmer said the total value of the goods stolen, including in the offences taken into consideration, was around £130,000, but because the value of items is often not recorded, the real total is likely to be much higher.

Mr Farmer said: "The upshot is pretty well an average in 2010 of one a week."

Georgina Gibbs, mitigating, said Gawthrop had had started committing crime at the age of 10 but had beaten drugs, hoped to move away from Cambridge with his long-term partner, and had a job lined up.

She said: "He describes himself as only being good at one thing, namely burglary, but he was good at it and he started a career in that line of work."

Afterwards, Det Chief Insp Chris Mead, who led the police operation, said Gawthrop’s assistance would help burglary prevention advice to be improved.

safe routes around town

2011-02-20T22:37:00.004Z

pinkpressthreat; geographically, there are certain routes i would always take to ensure maximum visability to other users while on the way to 'the scene' where they would all gather. it was important to bump into others to get the low-down on gear, what was happening, who was looking for you (in a good/bad way depending on what you had done) etc. etc. there are certain areas i now avoid like the plague, but unfortunately it cannot always be done and if i have to pass through, i have to pass through, but i never even linger long enough to tie my shoelaces for fear of bumping into somebody. places where 'we' (that seems to imply unity, a group of friends, a collective... but we weren't, or if we were, it was simply drink & drugs that had brought us together and as little as not paying back somebody £1 for a can of beer was enough to tear you apart) would go included some of the busiest green spaces in Cambridge. These were, and still are, popular with students, 20, 30, 40, 50-somethings eating al-fresco on their lunchbreaks or having picnics at the weekends with their friends- basically, it's for everyone and used by everyone. my friends from college go here, my other friends from outside the heroin scene go here, but i can't bring myself to with them, for fear of bumping into old faces. I cannot be bothered, and one person has a real big problem with me, although she is in her late 40s, a mother and I have never ever done a thing to her. its really odd. people have suggested jealousy before and i wonder if it is. its not unusual for certain people in the same situation as you drug addiction wise to envy you for every little thing you seem to have more than them. judging by the way she used to slate my drug-free, professional mum i think she was just very jealous of the family i had. she had never met my family, yet seemed to revel in telling me how awful she thought they were. and you know how it is; you can slate your family, but when it comes to somebody else doing it- its a no-no!

i go through the town centre quite a lot, taking my twin nieces + nephew out, if i need to go shopping or meet a pal and i pass regularly the old faces. in our town centre, which has two shopping malls seperated by a green space, there is one hostel right on its doorstep. another major one housing many, many people is but 15 minutes outside of the town centre, and its residents tend to congregate in the main part of town, begging, boozing with mates, shoplifting to earn money... that kind of thing. i say hello to the people i knew "well" which is actually, not that much. i never developed a deep friendship with anybody, i was just taken advantage of all the time and i was so naive, believing i would definately get back that bag as it was my last one and they wouldn't leave me in the lurch like that, would they? if im in a rush, i just rush past, but if i clock eyes with anyone i know, i never ignore; i smile or say hi. however, just recently, i have been getting a lot of comments as i have passed "stuck up bitch", "she thinks she is too good for us does she" and my personal favourite "once a junkie whore, always a junkie whore". i love the way once you are a girl, slag, whore & slut immediately are paired with another insult to produce a really, extra-hurtful one. i am not stuck up, or too good for anyone. i just cannot cope with being around heroin and crack as its still really raw to me. people don't seem to get this. i got smacked in the face last year for being "stuck up" when i never even saw the person, just whacked for no reason. some of these people are really angry, and bitter and when they get drunk they start on anyone, including their closest "friends". its really out of order, so i just want to stay out of the way as much as possible. why would i want to get into a fight when i am trying to get a job in probation or with young offenders? any conviction for violence etc. and my career prospects would be in tatters. all i know is, whenever i saw anybody get clean, i wasn't jealous to the point i resented them doing the best thing they could possibly do. i was actually glad for them. oh well, hopefully the longer i go, the more people will forget me.

also, pinkpressthreat, i have the BEST knowledge of toilet facilities in Cambridge. people are usually astounded when i give them the rundown of the most local bathrooms in catagories from miles away, cleanliness to peacefullness and whether there is always loo-roll & soap or basins in the cubicles.

Response to Gledwood

2011-02-15T19:11:00.001Z

I will look further into Psychodynamic counselling. Hopefully, they will have it on offer here. I was in full-time outpatient care from 13-17 but at 17 Cambridgeshire Primary Care Trust made major cuts to mental health funding and closed down its Young Peoples Psychiatric Service among other things. It was devestating. Any correlation between me suddenly going from having support to zero and plunging into a world so dark and murky and unsafe that I am surpised I lived to tell the tale. I nearly didn't, at both my hands and somebody who now has the perk of an indefinate jail term.
MEN... I was a late starter and only had a boyfriend once, nothing even serious. I called him that, but he wasn't. Not really. Some would disagree but I believe you cannot seriously romantically love and have a relationship with somebody else while on heroin and entrenched in the lifestyle. Or at least I'm speaking for people my age. It's impossible. Impossible. I never, ever could beg. I just couldn't. I'd lived in this town all my life, was too well-known, but most of all, I didn't have the guts to do it- and some say the looks. I didn't look "down and out" enough, apparently. Don't get me wrong, I did at times, but then I would hide indoors or in the shadows.

Peoples jaws drop when I say I am a heroin addict. It is beyond most people to come face to face with a junkie or a smack head, a skag head & a crack head and find that they haven't been able to detect it already. It is not how I look, or dress, it is my manners, my intelligence, my kindness, morals & scruples... most cannot seem to comprehend somebody like "that" could possess such things. That and when they think of junkies, immediately the stereotypical physical characteristics spring to mind- if you don't match them, they seem to think you didn't have "that much of a problem" and "it couldn't have been THAT bad" still, interestingly, they begin to more tightly hold their purses against their sides and check their phones are still about their person etc. etc. It is done "discreetly" but because I am so used to it, I see it, no matter how small their movements are. What makes it all the MORE ironic is, I have NEVER EVER EVER mugged anybody, stole from my family friends or stranger, or dealt in stolen goods. I know my family members pin numbers for their debit & credit cards, know where they keep their cash... but no, I just couldn't do it to them. Still people think the potential is there. The potential was there for me to get money at my expense, not my family & friends.
My so-called mates who are users have stolen my laptop, my sewing machine, my digital camera, money, mobile phone and sold me fake heroin or cut the bag and given me a .1 for a £20 (over 8 years, not recently!!) I could never do that to them, I learnt quick this game wasn't me, but I kept on thinking if I afforded people the trust and kindness I never was they would change. NEVER DID HAPPEN THOUGH.

Yes, heroin WAS CHEAPER. I used to when I first started take 3 x £20 a day which were a .6 at the very least. People would drive down from London, sell 2 for £35 or 3 for £50. It was usually excellent quality in those days, consistently good from the london lads. Recently, its all over the place, in the past year that is. You could never count on good stuff, but you could so-so to practically crap stuff. Its changed now. Has it got back to normal British people? I wouldn't actually know, haven't spoke to my old heroin pals about exactly what made us pals in the first place (and only thing really). Once it does come back, we are so starved it will be sky high and we will pay for it.

Finally, its happened.

2011-02-12T17:40:00.005Z

I have been far too elusive, I know. Sorry for that. I have been clean now since late October. I would have posted, but to be honest, I didn't because I didn't know WHAT to write. I did not know why I was able to stay clean this time, and I wondered how I might respond if somebody asked me the magic question, "What's your secret?" Before when I have tried... its been an absolute failure, but perhaps that is because I had no real intention of doing it, and certainly did not have a plan, or the tools to do so. But having said that, it doesn't seem as if I have specifically gone out of my way to abstain from brown & white. When I get my money, before, I wouldn't have been able to resist going out and scoring. Then a little bit more, then just a little bit more... until my money had gone the day I recieved it. I had all the best intentions, and would genuinely believe I would start saving next week for whatever I had thought of next; my clean, sober life perhaps. But it never happened. Obviously, I was an addict for a lot longer than I knew the Ex, but he had also been an addict a lot longer than me, and he was financially supported by high amounts of benefits and significantly high amounts of money from his parents... so we differed a lot. He would spend his/our money in a day, no thought of budgeting, and once it was gone I would have nothing, but he could go and disappear and grab £100 a day off his parents until the next time I got paid and he would let his Mum or Dad off for 24 hours. Not putting any blame on him, but his drug of choice was different, and so I was in a dire situation (cocaine or crack cocaine) as that was so pricey, and I couldn't take his tantrums for money and I'd give it to him. Again, not blaming him, but its no suprise as soon as he went, I suddenly gave up drugs and can save my money. I believe what happened was as soon as he got his money, he spent it on himself, and when I got mine he would nag and nag at me for mine, and it would slowly drain away... and I resented this. He would blow his, and he expected to live off me, and when he scored and got high, it made me angry, so I would want to use aswell, albeit different ones. I wanted some of my money too, so would try to match him in what money he would use up. Terribly destructive. It is quite amazing how when you are with somebody, you firmly believe you love them, and you argue and split for a day and you can't imagine living without them, worry yourself sick how they might be without your care.... but as soon as I got rid of him, it took me about 4 days to realise how good it was. When I went to see some old keyworkers regarding my University funding, I came out to see my old friend Twin Beckie. She told me how happy she was I got rid of him, and she looked me up and down and said "just look at you.... just look at how much better you are," Simple things I didn't realise; him telling me I didn't need make-up, didn't need to wear 'those' clothes, didnt need to go out or do my hair, and god forbid I want to go out without him.... easy at the time to mistake it for love & caring, when really it is control and domination. I can honestly say I don't miss getting my books burnt, being held under a bathtub full of water, pushed, hit etc. etc. I never thought I'd be a "victim" of domestic violence and I hate to mention it, as when its been brought up people roll their eyes as if to say "oh how typical, what a cliche!" I have never felt so small or little in my life, but that is the point isn't it, thats why so many women don't leave or feel they can't.

So many improvements.... my flat is lovely. Got new bookcases to house my hundreds upon hundreds of books, done the whole place out, got my new sewing machine and have been working away. My stomach is still pretty bad, vomitting 5 days out of the week. I went to the pub yesterday and literally stuck to Appletize. That is the first time in about 8 years I have been to the pub and JUST drank a soft drink, its not me at all, so you know I have to be sick to do that! My drinking is slightly better, a bit up and down. I would never dream of walking down the street drinking a can of special brew now, but one thing I can't shake off is that evening drink! I live by myself (which I love!) and I just like to have that "wind-down" drink. It is so hard to stamp it out. Though I want to as I have put on so much weight, well, got a little chubby as I am just boozing and eating whereas on snowballs, I never had an appetite. However, I am telling myself "its ok for the moment, you have been an addict for years upon years, you are catching up on your eating. just join the gym and you'll be ok!" Gym is also good for the mind, all those endorphins it releases. Can you please motivate me to go? I don't seen to be getting myself there. I thought I might buy myself a fitness DVD but I have read reviews and its awkard to find a decent one. Though I know its best to go the gym. Its half term this week so maybe I should just do 10mile walks daily around Cambridge. It takes me 7.3miles back and forth to college alone! But as its been so cold and bad weather, I hitch a ride with my mum to her nurses job.

I have a UNIVERSITY PLACE! Studying Social Policy. I am just investigating the claiming benefits part etc. I want to work but it worries me as I used to work in Evans in the Grafton but my panic attacks & anxiety mean I can't even walk about the street by myself, so what hope do I have dealing with the public in an assertive manner? Exactly, I don't. Still, I'm just focusing on the happy news. When I joined college I was having to score drugs thus missing class, drink to get up, at lunch, at breaks and I had panic attacks if I had to speak infront of the class, literally, so bad even though I was on beta blockers (prescribed for high blood pressure). To think I went from that to this in such a short while.... I have been trying for years to turn it around. I prayed for it, begged for it... then all of a sudden, I just managed it. Not solely, but I do attribute some of my success to a) not having to go to the methadone clinic with all the other (mostly) significantly older clients b) not hanging about with ANY other users c) not going to places where I might see said users d) not talking to said users over the phone. I just got a new phone, so didn't save dealers or other users numbers but I had them right up until last week. I could have rung them ANYTIME but didn't.

On Monday I went for an assessment with addaction that deal with me for the methadone prescription, but as this was for alcohol, it was a different half of the staff. It was just going through the said form which staff roll their eyes at and seem to hate it more than the client, but as they say, it HAS to be done. It may seem a little impersonal to some but I understand why they have to do it. When it got to asking whether I had a criminal record and I replied "no, not at all" she gave me a whooping congratulations! and wow! thats so rare! brilliant! She told me she would present my case to the rest of the staff and they would decide what to do with me- i.e whether I am in need of treatment and if so, what kind, and who with. I hope I get something.

My doctors and case worker are very happy with me but I have been kind of pissed off with them, when I was off the rails they said there was no point in giving me any type of counselling, therapy etc. as I was intoxicated, well now I'm off it, they still won't give me a god damn thing. I think it is dangerously niave to assume I have cracked it all of a sudden, surely, they should be giving me therapy to try and develope the skills to cope me with the issues that cause me to use drugs and alcohol. I sometimes think alcohol is more dangerous, as when drunk, I lose my inhibitions and decide to go score, like I did when I was a few months clean from methadone, done a big snowball and ended up on life support. Still, nothing. I'm not acting as if I'm special, like I should jump to the top of the list but I have been promised help for so long, and it angers me my family have been dumped with caring for me. Yes, thats what family are for but there is a difference when they work full-time and have to dedicate every spare minute to you. Its so stressful for them, and I hate to do it to them.

Anyway..... as I always promise, I won't leave it so long next time.
Seriously, I will try not to. If i do, drop me a message on twitter or fb or something :)
I have noticed some of my old blogs I followed have become obsolete, if you have one, let me know.

Love Naomi xxx

Lovely start to the morning

2010-12-30T19:09:00.000Z

I'm not using drugs, I know I have HepC but the heroin I was using IV was the worse most terrible thing I could possibly do, I was told. After all, thats why its illegal, isn't it.
I have cut my drinking down a lot.
But this morning my nan went out to do some shopping, I had had my methadone about 40minutes before and I felt sick. I went to the toilet, too slow, as some went on the floor, and I puked up. It didn't hurt, I didn't retch at all as I had drunk a whole bottle of mineral water with lemon flavouring. So I didnt retch... so this is why I got scared....

Usually being sick hurts as I have nothing in my stomach and I'm dry retching and brining up bile. This wasn't the case.
As I first was sick I tasted saltyness,
and there in the toilet bowl was bright red fresh blood. Not clotted, brand new, beautifully red. About 3 tablespoons full from what I could tell (I got a container and picked it out the toilet bowl water to check, so this is excluding the sick and blood on the floor). My mum is a nurse so when she saw this she was scared; she thought I was overexaggerating.

Not good. I thought all my problems were over when I stopped taking heroin.
Turns out, they are only just beginning.

Happy Christmas

2010-12-25T13:30:00.005Z

I am quite aware I haven't posted for a long long time. I am at college now studying for an Access to Social Care Diploma (my topics are criminology, psychology & sociology) which is for 19 year olds + who take it for a year to bring them up to university standard. The day we broke up, we had a fantastic christmas meal and drinks. When I originally joined the course I was so nervous, I thought I wouldn't get on with anyone because I had been an outcast in society for so long. However, I have got on just fine. There is a real mix of people, a lot of older people with children, and a lot of people who have experienced problems not too disimilar to mine. Its a great supportive environment and we all get along great. I will be sad to leave. The last day of term was the deadline for our UCAS forms which are our university applications containing our personal statements (effectively, an A4 sized piece of writing telling your prospective university how fantastic you are and why it is essential they let you in. naturally, i found this part very hard. saying complimentary things about myself does not come easy). As I wrote it, I remembered a lot of things I had done previously, like volunteering at a mental health centre, doing journalism experience with the BBC and working for a charity. I have applied to take a degree in Social Policy. Fingers crossed I get in. My sister took the Access course, and later went to University. She graduated this year, her third term. A degree in Psychosocial Studies she now has. I don't know how she done it, after all, she had a baby last December and already had twin girls who were 8. Amazing job. Louis my nephew turned 1 years old on December 23rd. Here he is; I am now single, and all the better for it. If I have learnt one thing, it is I probably cannot deal with being in a relationship with another addict who doesn't have the desire or capability to do something about his situation. Life is good. I have my own little flat which I stay in, and I am going to decorate in the New Year. Get a new TV, paint the walls, get furniture... I don't know what scheme I am going to go for. I thought about a 50s style pad or 60s, or a pink and zebra print theme. Who knows.

In hospital November 2010

I saw the Manic Street Preachers on the 1st November with my sister. By this time I had a huge abcess on my arm (you can just see it on the right, I tried to hid it). The next morning I went to the doctor and they instantly rushed me into Addenbrookes. I had to have a general anaesthetic and I was in there for a week. I had to wait 3 days for the op and I eventually got into theatre at midnight. Obviously, if they have car wrecks etc. etc. and need to operate urgently you are put back. It didn't bother me, though, but I had to be nil by mouth so I couldn't eat or drink even water, and on the third day of having to do that from 9am-11pm I felt pretty crap. I had my own room and bathroom on the plastic surgery ward and the staff were brilliant. I have nothing but admiration for those people who work there, from the cleaners upwards. When you have an abcess they obviously cannot stitch it up as there is still potentially pus and bad stuff in the wound so it needs to be left open. The day after my op, the consultant came round and removed my bandages to look at it, it was the most biggest hugest hole I had ever ever seen. Very unsettling. I had to stay in for a week. I was put to sleep with gas before they gave me the anaesthetic as they would have to search for a vein and they didn't want me to get uncomfortable, well, more than I already was that is. When I woke up they had ripped my surgical stockings (To prevent DVT) and put it in my feet. This sucked, as I couldn't walk and had to be pushed in a wheelchair down to the concourse to the stores, cafes etc. Talk about milking it!!! I missed a lot of college which worried me sick, but I just had to study hard to bring myself up to scratch. The twins (Right) and my sister (their mum) came with my Momma to visit me.

Clean
I have been clean for a couple of months. My addaction worker is exceptionally proud of me as is my doctor. But especially, to top all of those, is my family. My nanna is 85 bless her, a wonderful lady. She loves a tipple with me and she has done everything for me and the rest of the family. It broke her heart to see me on heroin. Now, she is so happy. I feel guilty about all the pain I caused her but I just have to tell myself to focus on improving my life and keeping up the good work, not dwelling. Same goes for my mum. She is a fulltime nurse and she is just so much happier. I spend a lot of time with my sister and her kids, which I love beyond belief. Considering I don't really want kids at all (or is that because I just assume I cant have them and am trying to reduce potentially hurt at having to find out I cant concieve?) I love to spend as much time as I can with them. For some reason, I just suddenly got turned off heroin + crack cocaine (snowballs). As if overnight a switch was flicked and I went off it. Its been a long time coming though, believe me. Its been a great couple of months. In that time I have had shit loads of money now I no longer have to buy drugs. I take much better care of myself and you should see the amount of presents I got my family today. I haven't done that in years as obviously, drugs won over buying gifts. I am...dare I say it... HAPPY :)

I got a brand new pink and white laptop as an early christmas present from my momma and she took me to SCRUFFS, a hairdresser in cambridge Bridge Street. I saw a senior stylist for a consulation and she fixed my hair. I hadn't had a hair cut in ten years as in 2001 I chopped off my bumlength hair and I looked TERRIBLE. It wasn't what I asked the hairdresser, and as a result I both looked like Annie, refused to go out for 2 weeks and then developed a phobia of the hairdresser. Its actually a lot nicer than it looks here ---->
But the best thing is its no longer the frizz ball it normally is. Oh and, the REAL best bit was Scruffs the hairdresser served me beer as I had my hair cut. My kinda place for sure!

I am so glad I finally got another computer. I really need it for college. I got a new sewing machine too, as the ex stole it. His parents didn't want me to call the cops so they purchased me a new one, even though it was nowhere near as good as the old one. He was in intensive care after an OD of benzos a week or two ago. I'm not heartless but I didn't enquire about him or visit etc. etc. All contact is severed and I'm much better for it. Phew. Should have gotten rid a long time before!

Ok. I know this is a really, really long post but I had to touch briefly on some of the stuff that has gone on. Actually, shit loads more has happened but I probably need to go back and look at some diaries as I have probably forgotten. My drinking is still.... still.... there. It goes up and down but I have a very bad stomach problem, I puke every day and my stomach cant take alcohol. I always have to make sure I leave an hour and a half or more between drinking my methadone and trying to down a drink as I can't risk puking it up. No way. But the good thing is with this stomach problem, its harder and harder to drink and I can't like I used to on certain days. Still thats for the best I am sure as I never felt too clever going into classes with a raging hangover, shaking like hell.

Well I hope everybody is having a wonderful christmas day, or at the very least, one that is enjoyable as it possibly can be. I am at my Nans with my sister, nephew Louis, twin nieces who I haven't seen all day as they are glued to their Wii and my mum has just left to go do her final patient... she was on a ten hour shift (nurse) bless her. Her partner is here too and so is my grandad. I am having a glass of champagne... yes real, not cava. I will definetely try and write more frequently.

Let me know how you all are. BEST WISHES and if I don't speak before, all the best for 2011

Love from Naomi xxx

dirty hits are no fun, no fun at all.

2010-08-08T18:20:00.003+01:00

wow, last night was positively evil. in the early afternoon i went and had 3 pints in the pub, and left to go to my nans where i stayed for a couple of hours. went home around 9pm and did a wash, which resulted in the worse dirty hit of my life. at about 9.15pm i started to get a pounding headache so i laid down while massaging my temples, which seldom helped. the pain increased to such a degree i felt physically sick and all i had time to say was "oh no" and before i even had leapt up i had puked everywhere. vomit all over the bed, myself, the floor. it carried on until my stomach was clear and i was bringing up yellow bile which tastes vile as you know, but also is so painful as you are going through the motions of vomiting but its dry so its unbelivably painful. i continued to be sick over and over every 20 minutes or so. i didn't fall asleep until 4am and i woke up at ten to 6, vomitting again at 7, and every couple of hours up until 4pm. hopefully its done with but i feel bloody awful still. my head is attrocious, and when i get back to mine i have to finish off cleaning where i was sick. i got the worse of it off but that acid smells horrible so i will have to clean it some more with the stuff i just got from the store. the last time i felt this bad was a few months ago when i had that stomach ulcer... over a week spent vomitting, unable to eat a thing, puking up blood but even then i didn't have the pounding head so it wasn't as bad. i never want to use a syringe again in my life. EVER. and i can't because...

i have that new CPN that deals exclusively with alcohol which is mighty important at the moment as there is no way in hell I'm going to even get referred to the Hep C treatment clinic unless I have abstained from alcohol and drugs 100% Heroin I can stay away from, but alcohol is a different story. It is involved in everything I do.... my mothers birthday celebration last weekend, at the pub. Back at college, all social activites are at pubs & clubs, quick get together with a mate I haven't seen in a while, down the pub. its so hard to get away from it. and i find it so impossible to sit there and not drink alcohol in a pub. it just cannot be done. having said that, i have never ever had counselling for either drugs or alcohol (hey, you would have thought maybe my gp would have referred me to some type of counsellor to combat my substance missuse issues instead of just handing me a script for methadone. hmmmm) so i don't have the tools to really deal with it. maybe when i am equipped with them i will change, maybe i wont but i'm going to have a bloody good try. here in cambridge the rate of Hep C infected IV drug users is rediculously high, and obviously, 98% aren't in treatment, or even bothered about it as they are still using and/or drinking. it is not unusual to lose one or two, maybe more a year due to liver failure caused from alcohol and/or drug abuse excellerated because of their Hep C status. i don't want one of those to be me. i realised recently that its no longer suprising to hear somebody has died, its more suprising to hear they are still going. i have though that far too normal and acceptable for far too long.

EDIT: to
Anonymous on dirty hits are no fun, no fun at all. on 23/09/10
you bloody tit, contracting HIV wouldn't save the taxpayer money, it would increase it beyond belief! the medication is awfully pricey, as is the healthcare and nurses, doctors & specialists wages who would have to regularly see me. wow, what a first-class prize idiot you are. give yourself a round of applause.

sorry, i forgot to tell you, you have had Hep C for a year

2010-08-02T18:27:00.002+01:00

my nurse, not even my doctor, came up to the office where I was having my initial assement with my CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) that specialises in mentally ill alcoholic heroin addicts. tell me, what did he have to do to get that qualification?! anyway, 3 weeks ago they took a blood sample off me. it took 34 minutes to take less than 1/5 of a tube of blood. they sat (they being my gp and a nurse) on the floor trying to get blood out of a vein under my armpit. they hoped it would be enough but when it was sent to addenbrookes, the blood was so small (remember, most blood tests provide them with 5 tubes of blood not 1/5 of 1!) it had congealed and was untestable. anyway, i thought damn, i wont find out if i have any bad bad liver problems and diseases. WRONG!

The nurse comes into this meeting and breaks the bad news "I am so sorry, but the blood test you had taken last year in May, it came back positive for Hep C but nobody told you"
Basically, I was running around for a year boozing like there was no tomorrow, hitting up crack and smack everyday, not knowing I had active HEP C which leads to Cirrhosis, Liver Cancer, Liver Failure.... So basically, why did they do a blood test if nobody bothered to read the results? They had been on my file for a year and 2 months before somebody noticed. Not even an apology. Sick. My mum is a nurse, when she takes a blood test and gets the results, if she didnt read them right and ignored a serious illness for a year she would be struck off. Click above for the story.

Anyway, I am still suffering from my stomach ulcer and my Hep C is causing really bad problems. I am in constant pain and my body bruises so easily. I accidently stepped out of the way at the local pub (no I had just walked in, I wasn't pissed) and hit my knee on a table and the bruise is there 3 weeks later. Nothing heals properly. I am still on heroin, crack & alcohol. Now i have this awful hep C.
great.

I will write again, when things are clearer.

These Girls Fall Like Dominos

2010-04-06T01:23:00.002+01:00

I first self-harmed when I was 7 years old. I remember it, it is one of my first memories. It wasn't because I was copying my father; a manic-depressive alcoholic who slashed himself to pieces on a regular basis (I came back from the cinema with my mum, sister and her school friend after seeing home alone to discover him on our living room floor topless holding a knife, having plunged it into his stomach X amount of times), it was because it was the only way I could stop myself from crying. My mum, a NHS nurse, had so much to deal with, I wanted to be strong, not rock the boat anymore. And this one afternoon when the police rang to say my sister, 4 years older, had been arrested for shoplifting, I was sitting in the front room with my Mum and Dad on my blanket playing with some teddies and Barbies. My Mum started crying. I hated seeing her upset and my Dad was upset too. I was going to cry. I didn't want to so I suddenly without even thinking about it picked up this needle from a cross stitch kit I had been given to make a blanket for my Barbies bed and scratched it over and over on my wrist. I was angry I was feeling like crying, and the pain helped. From that day, its the only way I knew how to deal with being upset. Or anything negative.

My self-harm is very personal. I don't show it, anywhere. My boyfriend will see it. It is 1:28am right now. I don't know why, I wasn't drunk, quite happy. Just got back from his sisters in Oxford. I just felt awful and I picked up my razor, ripped it apart and slashed at my chest. Right above the heart. Its split open very deep. It seemed apt to do it there. I will regret it tomorrow, as that is 1 year at least of not wearing low cut tops (not saying I like to display my cleavage; just im too fat for polo necks etc). I don't know why I have returned to self-harm. Before I started on heroin I was doing it everyday, and was getting more and more extreme. I think heroin saved me. Or maybe I just stopped self-harm with a razor or ciggarettes, or bleach, pills & vinegar (used to drink bottles of it) with a needle? Who knows.

I feel better after I self-harm, but not that better. I want to slash my face open. But I go as far as my neck, I have twin nieces, a nephew, family. I am sick and tired of it all, I really am. I can't be bothered. I am so stuck in a rut, and its not even mine. I don't want to do this anymore, and its not because I am distraught. This place just isnt for me. Never has been. I'm not sad about it, I've known it for a long time. I hate it. I know there is no afterlife, I have clinically died enough times to know. I just want to do what we do when we all die; switch off.

online at last

2010-03-25T13:14:00.003Z

Yesterday, Virgin finally came and installed my trio package of Broadband, Landline Phone & TV. I don't know what I am more happy about; being online 24/7, having a home phone instead of having to rely on a mobile all the time or having more than 4 channels to watch all the time (those of you in the UK will know, channel 5 can be a very iffy one to get, so you usually end up with just 4 as opposed to the standard 5). I purchased this laptop a few weeks back and was unable to access the internet anywhere (people have got savvy; they no longer leave their networks unsecured. I was going to leave mine so, but thought to hell with it, nobody did that for moi!). I am right now watching Current Tv watching the most undesirable places to live in the United Kingdom.
My stomach is very much better. What a relief that was. Using has been up and down; it tends to go up when I have willing veins to use. Now, the two I could use easily for a week or so have collapsed and the past 8 hits I have tried to get, I have missed straight away. I have been IV using on an everyday basis since I was 17 24/7 and I started having problems within about 5 months of having started. Veins don't like being constantly prodded and poked and stuffed full of heroin and crack cocaine. I am so odd to look at; I have no visable veins. Not even a tinge of blue on a surface. Look at old pictures of me playing the saxophone etc. and you can see veins bulging out of my hands or pictures on the beach, they are in abudance on my feet. Not any more. Its as if when I even think of injecting drugs, let alone getting a needle in my hand, what existing veins I have left dive under the surface as far as possible away from me and my little friend. I have tried using longer needles, to get deeper veins, but this resulted in me hitting arteries and my god. That is the closest I will ever come to feeling what it is like to be in an electric chair- I hope. Its horrible. Shock runs through ever inch of your body, down every limb, radiating back and forth, back and forthe. Evil, Evil. So I am wasting money. And most importantly, since its a snowball (heroin and crack cocaine in a syringe) you don't feel when you are missing (not injecting into a vein- leaking into the tissue surrounding) as cocaine numbs the flesh. So you happily push the liquid in you and don't realise until after you pull it out and you haven't got the rush that you missed the entire thing. It sucks I tell you. I wouldn't mind spending my money on drugs, but when its a waste- boy that sucks. I would go in my groin again but I have 4 friends with 4 legs each after having amputations. I was going in my groin for a few months and the pain was bad, very bad. Luckily, I diverted to subutex and got off for a while, giving a while for a few veins to recover.

Anyway, the net. Hopefully, I will write a bit more frequently. I am trying to make a better layout for here. If anybody can help, I am happy to pay etc. etc. Let me know. I want a friendlier reading format. Hope everyone is well, anyway.

stomach ulcers

2010-03-12T18:50:00.002Z

I got really ill Sunday night. Monday, I could barely move. It was awful. I had something I hadn't had in years; a period! I have not had a period for years due to my heroin abuse (it tends to stop things like that in their tracks). I thought at first I felt rough due to that, but even though I didn't know what a period pain felt like since I had last had my proper one age 13, I knew that it shouldn't be hurting your chest under your breastbone and hurting your back. I couldn't move, I spent about £200 on heroin and injected it haphazardly in my veins (I couldn't even sit up to get one I was that in pain). Got to the hospital, its stomach ulcers. Ouch. I feel like shit. I didn't drink for 4 days but I',m back on it right now. I don't care. I don't care an iota. On a plus, I am getting broadband internet, cable and a landline on 24th March. That means I will never have to leave my house! EVER.

boi's. violent boys.

2010-02-26T18:12:00.002Z

Today I refused to lie to my boyfriends Mum. He got his money from her yesterday, £120. In less than 2 hours it was gone. So today, he asked me to lie to her to get more. He said he would tell her he purchased furniture for our new flat, and all I needed to do was back him up. I said no. I was lying in the bathtub washing my hair and he began telling me how I wasn't loyal, I was such a bitch. Actually, he said all this. I know, because it hurt so much, it burnt inside of my subconscious.
"YOU ARE AN UGLY FUCKING GINGER MUNTER""YOU ARE A FUCKING PIECE OF SCUM. DIRTY DIRTY SCUM""YOU ARE A SPASTIC. A WORTHLESS SPASTIC""YOU ARE WORTHLESS. A THICK AS SHIT WORTHLESS WHORE"
He told me how thick I was, that I spend all my time reading and giving him no attention. I was rinsing my hair in the bath, on my stomach and he launched into the bathroom and held my head under the water. It was so scary, I kicked and splashed out and went ballistic until he let his grasp go. I don't think he let it go, I actually just struggled so hard I got out of his grasp. As I got out of his grasp, my feet (which were kicking out as I was being drowned) pulled the plug from the bath. I jumped out of the bath after I got my breath back. As I sat up spitting the water out of my nose and mouth, he picked up a towel and wiped the hands he had had to put in my bath water to drown me. He then hit me with it in the bath. I was still coughing. He began to tell me how ugly I was so I covered up my naked body with it. It took me a while to get my breath back. Then I hid in the corner. While I did this, he picked up my books. He ripped them up into little bits and as the last of the water drained out, he set fire to the book fragmenst and chucked them in the bath.
He told me how i spent all my time reading. how thick i was. how foul i was. worthless.
hours later, he is at his mums. they are asking me whether i should let him back. i dont want him to. shall i shouldnt i. he threatens to kill me. should i? when i hear him cry it kills me but he frightens the life out of me. he has been violent ever since i met him. really nasty. not often, but often enough. i am worried he will top himself if i make him go for good. what should i do?

crafting on a sunday

2010-02-21T15:53:00.001Z

Sunday. love sundays. they consist of going round to my nannas house for a sunday lunch. her cooking is lovely, but unfortunately, when i go round (at about 1.30pm) i have just had an injection of heroin and crack cocaine and my appetite is somewhat ruined. therefor, i have a mouthful of peas and a yorkshire pudding and in todays case, pile the rest of the dinner (lamb, potatoes, roasts, veg) onto Carls already piled high plate. i don't pass up the sherry or beer though. anyway, now i am going back home to go through my clothes and put them on ebay. i have a lot of beautiful gothic, punk and vintage wear. corsets too. i don't wear any of it anymore so its pointless keeping it. and now i am sharing my wardrobes and drawers with another person (who had more clothes than me, i might add) i need all the space i can get. craftster.org rocks, by the way, check out the forums and delicious tutorials. mmmmmmm. im going to get the sewing machine out when im home. good times, good times.

chocolate & beige

2010-02-16T18:41:00.003Z

Originally, I wanted to decorate my flat in either a 1960s psychadelic theme or go all out and paint it florescant pink and yellow with black and white ska chequers. However, I thought back to previous similar ventures and had to accept that these sort of outrageous themes never go to plan and I end up with them half-finished (either through lack of money, inspiration or both) and not enough resources to scrap the whole ill-fated scheme and start again. So, I accepted I am 22, getting old, and thought about going with a nice beige and chocolate theme. Yes, beige and chocolate. That doesn't have to be boring, I thought, not with a few signature pieces of lovely antique furniture and some retro items from the local collectibles store. So, there we have it. On Thursday I am going to check out some furniture for the bedroom and I am hoping it is going to be all right. I don't want to get to somebodies house and feign satisfaction when I think the items for sale are fucking hideous, I am the sort of person that is so polite I'd grin and bare it and even purchase the damn things. Luckily, I am taking my boyfriend along to help me out. He is much more able to speak his own mind, and mine for me when I can't seem to. Oh yes, the boy. Here he is, or we are, in the White Swan in January.

Oh yes, my curtains. Chocolate and Teal for the front room and chocolate brown for the bedroom. My Momma comes round to my Nannas to drop them off to me. Earlier on she had a massive go at me on the phone for still being a heroin addict. The proof was in the pudding when she came round to my new flat to see it and spied a syringe or two in a plastic bag. She is a nurse, but que all hysteria about somebody putting their hands in there and pricking themselves (as if my only visitor, my Mother, would come to my house and start snooping round in things that weren't hers... seriously... she would never go through my stuff, ever). I didn't bother arguing. I am doing really well. Barely using and spending 90% of my income on food, utility bills, toiletries & clothes and going out. The other 10% yes I do occasionally score. But it is barely an issue. I sound like a typical denying addict, don't I? But it is the truth, heroin is boring for me now. The only time I do take it is if I have missed my methadone script.

Anyway, as she is giving me the bollocking off a lifetime I doze off and start thinking... how come my Mums collegues and her friends children, well, most of them have criminal records. Most of them find a good night is a pint and a fight. Most of them are rude, horrible louts. I keep myself to myself, I don't have a criminal record, never been arrested, am polite, a good citizen... and yet I am the scum of the earth. Jesus, what would she view me as if I actually did have a criminal record and spent my days fighting and causing trouble? The lady wouldn't know what had hit her. Anyway, must fly, got to get back to my house with my boyfriend. My Grandad is coming to put up my curtain poles tomorrow and I need to tidy. xxx

dare i say bliss?

2010-02-15T17:42:00.004Z

I probably should. I finally got out of the shithole I had to call my home. I lived in this vile block of flats, albeit on the first floor, that stood opposite an almost symmetrical building- the only difference being that one was slightly taller with a few more floors to house more down and outs that couldn't be dumped elsewhere in Cambridge. It was the most horrible, depressing place. The sun never seemed to shine there, even in summer at midday. It was dark, dull and dingy. It was full of junkies, alkies, modern day fagins and people that loved nothing more than to pass the day getting tanked up and picking fights with people that obviously couldn't fight back. I felt so suicidal there, it has taken me years to get moved. And I was given a beautiful place, only about 10minutes away by car but less than 3 minutes from my sister, nieces, grandparents and my Mum in a lovely area of Cambridge, next to my old school, where I was, in hindsight though it didn't seem it at the time, most happy. Almost as soon as I vacated that old hellhole, my mood changed as if I had flicked a switch. I no longer stayed in bed all day, I wanted to get up early, I didn't want to spend all my money on drugs and alcohol, I started looking for a job, for college. I started cleaning the home and respecting it, whereas the other one took all my energy just to wash up a plate after eating. There was no incentive there, it was horrible and filthy, dark, disturbing. There was nothing you could do to improve your situation, so you done nothing at all but try to escape it.
255 people bid on the flat I got. 255. And I got it. I feel so lucky, its the beginning of a new era and I know that sounds corny but I am quite confident that is the case. Its been a couple of weeks at my new property and the enthusiasm is not yet wearing off. I will start posting in my blog again regularly. I want to show everyone whats been happening.... its been crazy since I came out of hospital with my now fiance, who was just my boyfriend in the last posts.

Speak soon.

a quick fleeting visit

2009-11-29T16:55:00.003Z

Facebook. Facebook. Like everybody, I also have a love/hate relationship with it. It does two things for me which is A) allows me to stay in contact and get back in contact with some very important people in my life but on the downside which is B) Shows me that in comparison to my peers, I am an absolute loser and waste of space who has done nothing with her life for the past 7 heroin and crack cocaine filled years. I can't help but feel remarkably inferior as I watch others from my classes at school already settle down into a life of marriage, mortgages, children, fancy foreign holidays etc. etc. Ok, Ok, I am 22 but quite a number already have either married or got kids, or the others are starting new careers after recently graduating from university.
Why oh why did I choose heroin addiction as my two-fingered salute to my mother and other authority figures? Why didn't I just get up the duff instead? Kids are a lot easier to deal with than a habit. FACT.
A member of my family was commenting on how I could have had a really good car, really nice designer clothes, a house even with all the money I had spent on drugs. It made me think that if anything in my life is paved with gold, its my fucking veins. I imagine a little town going on in the channels and arteries in my body with little high-end boutiques, luxury hotels and resturaunts... thats how much money I have pumped into it. If you have a habit, that will make sense. If you don't, it won't. But last year I was spending at least £100 a day on my habit, so multiply that by 7 and times by 52, and well.... its enough to make you sick. I would care but, I don't care for things that make most people happy. The only thing that makes me happy is doing a big fat hit of heroin and crack cocaine and even then the happiness doesn't last that long. Its a bit of a swizz, just like everything in life really.
My sister is about to give birth this December, her due date is the 21st actually. Its a boy, to add to her 7 year old twins. She is still striving on with her university degree, taking care of the kids single-handedly. I have to hand it to her, at 25 she is much more of a decent person than I'll ever be. It wasn't always like that, she was the naughtiest kid going and ended up in care growing up with a long criminal record. Now she is due to be a psychiatrist. How things change. But hey, we grew up in a household with a manic-depressive alcoholic self-harming suicidal father so I think she is more qualified than anyone to discuss peoples problems and help them through it.
DRUGS. What can we say about that. Each days its snowball upon snowball upon snowball. Heroin doesn't cut it anymore, infact I don't even bother with heroin unless I have crack cocaine to go with it. My veins are becoming more and more difficuilt to find. I'm resorting to worse and worse places to inject but after all you go through as a junkie, thats the least degrading thing you have to deal with in comparison to most other stuff.
Christmas soon. Financial, this time of year makes me panic my ass off as my family always expect nice expensive gifts and you have to deliver. Now, I have my boyfriend and his family to buy for too and they are upper middle class so I can't palm them off with something crap, it has to be better than what I'm getting my family. Eeeeh. I don't want to think about it. If it really was 'THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS' I would make everyones presents on my sewing machine but something tells me internally, everybody would be thinking I was being a cheapskate. Never mind the money, its the christmas shopping. It gets so busy at this time of year I nearly have panic attacks, or I do, as I can't bear the crowds. My nan turns 84 on 5th December. I always wanted to get clean for her. Because I don't really drink anymore, people think I'm clean in all aspects. Thats good enough, I suppose. I suppose.

Summer sun, something's begun

2009-08-19T19:34:00.002+01:00

It's wednesday night, it's beautiful out and has been all day. Right now it's Ok because we are indoors; earlier on we had to ride back and forth between Roytown and Cambridge in the trusty Escort being slowly roasted by the sun. It is really muggy, humid... I don't like the heat much at all. But Carl can't stand it and his medication is effected by it. We had the air conditioner on (affectionately named 'the monster' by him due to the nom-nom-nom sounds it creates) but had to flick it off as I had well, some powders

I am just sitting on the bed in Carls room listening to him. I never had a natural flair for playing anything, even though I really tried, especially with the saxophone. Can't sing either. He can not only play the guitar extremely well, but he sings beautifully. Sure, sure, you think. But you would think that wouldn't you? It is not only me who thinks so. I have only just realised who The Damned are but he got to play support to them, he would play the main stage at the Strawberry Fair and toured around Europe. He has tried to get back into it and this is him doing it. He suddenly said "I think I'm going to write a song tonight" and minutes later we grabbed our stuff and trudged upstairs to the bedroom.

sorry about the gap

2009-08-16T19:41:00.005+01:00

in posts. I haven't had too much internet access. Anyway, I am absolutely fine. I have been using, in fact, I am using now but the doctor has switched me from Methadone (i took myself right down to 25ml) to Suboxone (buprenorphine 8mg plus 2mg naloxone... wiping out the street value as you can't bang them up) which I intend to take from tomorrow or Tuesday (ha- reminds me of my favourite quote "I'll quit, as long as its next Tuesday").

Rehab was good. Painful, but I needed to break out of my cycle of alcohol consumption in a medically equipped setting. When I got there (its a psychiatric ward, with 2 detox beds) I knew the other detox patient, who is an absolutely lovely liverpudlian. I knew a couple of other people too, from my psychiatric care group. The morning I went in was quite scary. I had stayed at my Nannas and since it was a 11am start, I got up early. I knew they breathalised you when you arrived to make sure you were not over the DRINK DRIVE limit, and I was petrified I might be. The thought of getting there with all my things and being sent back to my Nans (she, and all my family were pinning so much hope on this stay. To come back merely minutes after I left to start my "NEW LIFE" would be crushing to them all, especially my Nanna. And to me, also. The lady based at the Bridge Project on Mill Road that done the referrals for alcohol detox (she was also my old drugs keyworker that oversaw my methadone programme) assured me I would be OK; that I could drink normally the day before and have one drink to "get me up and the morning of admittance, if needed. This worried me, as when we (users in Cambridge) had to go to the methadone clinic every morning weekday 8:45-12:45 certain people (the known alcoholics) were breathalised and if they blew red, they were refused their scripts. This was terrible if it were Friday, as you were without your methadone and perhaps your valium until Monday, where you would have to see the doctor as it had been 3 days without and have them decide to carry on prescribing you. I was scared because I remember Beckie stopping drinking around 10pm and still blowing red the next morning. I drank none the less until about midnight and when I woke up at 7am the next day, I had to drink. I had brandy and coke and a couple of little bottles of stella, about 1.5 units each. The amount of stuff I packed was rediculous. I was well prepared so I didn't get bored. Tim gave me a lift there, stopping off at the Bridge Project to get breathalised prior to going to hospital, just so I knew it wouldn't be a wasted journey. Time was getting on when we got to Fulbourn Tesco (hospital is next door) and I dashed around getting last minute things; socks, cigarettes (I didn't get enough; I found I would smoke around 60 a day, and had to call outside people to deliver them), sweets. I had to have a drink, so I got two small cans of Smirnoff and Cranberry. I downed them both just like that, my last 4 or 5 units. Tim helped me take my stuff in, and we waited till I got admitted.
I was worried what they would think of me, they being the staff and other patients. I thought they might think I was faking it, because I didn't look like the typical alcoholic. And I had so much with me; ipod, clothes, laptop... And although I was very ill, I didn't have a fit. I accept now that that is just the part of me that gets self-concious all the time. I had just downed the vodka and was petrified I would blow red on the breathaliser but actually, I was fine. I will write more about the hospital, later.

I only stayed in for one week. It should of been two. But basically, I met a bloke. Silly to abscond on the account of a man? Maybe. But its been a while and right now I am the happiest I have ever been. I have settled quite a bit. I now drink about 3 times a week and when I do, its a bottle of wine to share with my boyfriend, Carl. He himself has not drunk in a few days. It doesn't bother him too much. Life is going quite alright; I am going to college in September and I am hoping to move ASAP in time for that. I can only hope and pray.

off to rehab today

2009-05-18T23:52:00.003+01:00

I don't know why I suddenly became so resentful of the internet.... hang on yes I do. I wrote that and the thing below last night around midnight when my computer just crashed and switched off. Noooo,.... I thought, I have to pack for rehab in the morning so I wont have time to re-write something. Phew, turns out blogger automatically saves but for some reason, not everything I wrote. Anyway, I know one of my friends who reads this commented a while back saying when I don't write he thinks I am dead and it worries him.

Anyway, its 6:48am in the morning and I am surrounded by shit loads of clothes that need packing. I am apprehensive that I am going over the top; my bag is huge. Its one of those ones backpackers use and goes down to the backs of my knees so when I walk he whacks against them and neigh-on trips me up. I always get self-concious thinking "omg, alcoholics and junkies don't care what they look like is the common conception so people will think i'm not really ill if i turn up with all this hair, make-up and clothes crap". Silly? Yes and no. You would be suprised how much my appearance at times has let me down... just recently I told my doctor how bad my drinking was and she replied with a "Well, at least you can get up and take pride in your appearance. Most people can't even do that, they lost the ability a long time ago," HELLO! Its because I am self-concious I wear make-up, I feel so hideous I have to plaster myself with it just to go out the house or even open the door to a postman. Vain? No. Just self-loathing.

I don't really know how the whole thing works, yet. I know I can't take my phone as it has a camera on. I was going to take in my digital camera and take pictures, a photo diary (not containing others, of course) but then I realised how silly that was. The sudden panic it might cause with other residents etc. I am going to take in my laptop (hope its allowed) and try and write. You are not allowed out for first 5 days, and the only visitors you have after that are non-alcoholics and junkies. So that really narrows my list down of potential guests. You have to take in all your money, smokes... there is a tesco next door to this hospital (my Dad was in and out of this same place all my life and I remember he would abscond, go to the Tesco for vodka, drink it in the lush hospital grounds then go back into the ward for a nice dinner and to sleep it off) but considering I will have no other of lifes pleasures (booze and smack) I bet I will smoke like a trooper! So I will need to bring in a shit load of those. I am getting those this morning. My mate is taking me. You are allowed a drink to get you there and I need one bad but the thing is, you can't blow over 100 when they breathalise you, and 80 is the drink drive limit. You have to be there for 10am so if you blow over that, you are fucked and lose your bed. I am thinking one can of weak beer, and now so I don't chance anything.

I am frightened. Trying not to think about it. I haven't been sober for years. KELLY I have taken in some small sewing things (didn't want to lug in my sewing machine as that would mean my most expensive possessions are all in one place for easy pickings!) to do. Hoping to reignite my passion for it. Sure I will. And I have a lot of pictures on craftster.org of things I have made, if I have time this morning I will go and look through my past projects and send you the links. That is a brilliant site for sharing ideas and tutorials. Anyway I must go! Get ready. "See" you all in 2 weeks. Thanks for all your kind comments and support.

From Last Night.......
Reading Gledwoods latest post reminded me of just how dire the Eurovision Song Contest really is. I missed the whole hype that was "Your Country Needs You" (? it was that right, where they looked x-factor style for a England rep to sing a song written by Andrew Lloyd Webber) but I decided to flick back and forwards between BBC1 and whatever else I was watching so I could hear our entry. Man, the constant repeating of "its my time, its my time" just made me want to instantly become deaf. Andrew what were you thinking? I hadn't watched it since LOVE CITY GROOVE were on, and lost. I know we won it one year with that bird from Katrina and the Waves but I remember one particularly fantastic song that I can't believe did not win. Do you remember it, also? Its beautiful. Who can forget her in her union jack pants. That women was my idol for oh, I don't know, a good few weeks till I moved onto someone else. I remember getting constantly teased for having curly hair and suddenly girls were curling theres, but unfortunately, as she faded into the distance so did that fashion and it was back to jibes of GINGER!!!! FRIZZBALL!

rehab! rehab! rehab!

2009-05-06T00:25:00.005+01:00

I will post photographs from the Girls Aloud concert at the 02 arena. I was physically sick at that show for two reasons; one, the arena was so steep it wasn't just I who had a panic attack, grown men afraid of heights could not go into the stadium due to the way the place was built... the people infront of you had their heads aligned with your foot (thats how steep it was I swear!). It looked as if you were about to topple out your seat, bouncing over the people infront of you until you hit the main arena floor in a bloody mess. Secondly, I couldn't drink any alcohol as it was just my sister and I with the twins so obviously, their first trip in London and on the underground tube filled me with anxiety... I knew I needed my witts about me and to hold onto them at all times. I was frightened they would fall on the tracks/get stollen/etc. etc. Ok, ok, they are seven. Anyway, I couldn't drink so I was plagued by headaches, violent puking and shaking that looked like I had parkinsons at best. Sad, but true. My twins referred to me having a "bad head day" god they are more switched on than i give them credit for. However, Turns out they were amazingly good. We stayed in a hotel by the 02 arena in north Greenwich and they were brilliant. They didnt cry once, misbehave, moan when the queue for food reached over an hour and a half, paddy, fight.... they just were so chilled. When I was taken to London at 7 I was scared to death; I needed to be carried down the esculators on the underground as they freaked me out so much, I was paranoid the whole time I was going to get stolen and sold to some fagen-esque gang.... I was so proud of the girls. They loved it and they loved the Florence Nightingale Museum they insisted on going to and of course... HAMLEYS TOY SHOP! they both had money allocated to them and they spent it wisely on presents for themselves.

I am taking them to the park tomorrow afterschool to ride their bycicles as my sister is in hospital and she gets out that afternoon. They live opposite the park, about 5 seconds from it but my sister will be too ill to take them so I am going to. I want to spend some time with them. I spent a few hours with them yesterday and loved it, can't believe how much they change when I don't even see them for a few days!!! I want to spend as much time with them as possible because
DRUM ROLL PLEASE............

I AM GOING INTO A 2 WEEK REHAB!!!!!!!!!
YES!
I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED.
i would never have the money to do this in my life!
its been allocated to me because well, ive become such a danger to myself i will be dead in a few years if i dont, probably!! i am so happy to be given this chance. i was supposed to go in on the 12th but my drugs worker rang up and said I DIDN'T NEED TO GO IN, that my drinking wasn't THAT BAD! so they cancelled it. but my psychiatrist got in touch and convinced them that it was a life-or-death situation and they managed to find me a bed for the 19th of MAY!

i nearly cried when i heard. i very nearly did but as you will know by reading this blog, i don't cry EVER, not even by myself.

my psychiatrist said it would be good respite for me to not drink for two weeks. I explained i wanted to quit drink FOR GOOD but he thinks my liver just needs a 2 week break. i would like to think I could show him otherwise but like he says, my liver needs this break or ill be dead before I know it! my mum said to me "so you are never going to drink again?" as if she didn't believe me. i don't know if i believe myself but its my intention. however, its just getting away from that crutch of drinking all day to deal with my problems. getting away from the fact a summers day isn't complete without an ice cold beer because hello- IT IS! thats what im trying to drum into my skull.

april 21st

2009-04-23T00:17:00.005+01:00

Something finally seems to be getting done in the way of treatment for me. At the moment I am with Complex Cases which is an outpatient programme 5 days a week. I went this morning from 11.30-1pm, skipping the last hour or so because when the group meeting had finished, the dinner had been cooked. Bacon filled the room and the psychiatrist began making them into gourmet sandwiches but since I can't eat in front of people (I've got a complex) I left. I hadn't eaten all day and didn't until 6pm so I felt ill and was dying to eat but I just couldn't bring myself to. Anyway, tomorrow after my appointment at the doctors to get my methadone prescription renewed I am going to be assessed by the HOME TREATMENT team. It was quite urgent so they offered to see me today but I didn't have the time. One condition is they can only see you if you haven't consumed any drugs or alcohol. Hello, I am a physically dependant alcoholic. So, I see them at 4pm so I don't know how I'm going to go all day without a drink. If they want a seizure on their hands, they can go ahead. This Home Treatment is an intensive programme and it provides a carer to be with you day in and day out which I do need really badly. Hopefully, I'll get it.

I am watching PAID IN FULL on BBC1, Its about the crack explosion in Harlem in the 80s. Today, even though I needed to save my money for the london trip this weekend, I got 3 bags of drugs- one crack cocaine, two heroin. I went with someone else to score and even though I could of scored myself, he took the money and wouldn't give me my crack until I gave him half for nothing. I wouldn't mind but he got a £20 bag plus while we were waiting this girl walks up to him and gives him a £20 bag to test. He grafts all day everyday and I can't so these drugs have to last me. Thanks a bunch you git. I don't mind sharing but he had loads more money on him. He wouldn't do that to a bloke. Anyway, things are getting pretty bad. My body is in a right state. Where I wrap the torniquet around my arm, i have such a bad rash and bruising all the way around. I bruise at the slightest touch and my needle holes are just not scabbing over, just swelling and becoming full of pus. When you knock my arm near to them, the pus will burst out. URGH.

The 21st was the closing day for all supporting letters on my housing move. Tomorrow they will discuss whether to move me out of my hellhole of a flat I don't live in because its surrounded by other junkies who constantly bully me. Fingers crossed.

my neck, my back...

2009-04-21T11:05:00.006+01:00

Kills. Absolutely kills I tell ya. Sunday was spent at my twin nieces house as it was there 7th birthday. Among their "main presents" alongside the Girls Aloud Concert Tickets (26th Sun) and hotel stay in London they got this absolutely wicked Trampoline. Their house is only about 60 seconds from mine so when I got round there the first thing I did was sling down their gifts, take off my shoes and join the 6 children that were bouncing on it already. I was afraid I was going to fall on one of their tiny little bodies but a quick suggestion that they go and get some ice-cream and they all vacated it pronto. Very cunning, Naomi, I thought. I preceeded to have a blissful 10 minutes jumping and attempting to perform flips and various tricks, which I could barely do, all I managed was to prove to myself how unhealthy and unflexible I am. When the kids got back on, I got off and was overcome by the sudden urge to vomit everywhere. The blazing sun (it was beautiful weather by the way, managed to hold up all day) combined with the exercise totally knocked me for 6 and everybody knew I didn't feel well as I rejected offers of wine, budweiser, cider even vodka... in favour of water and then cherry aid. Copious amounts of water, the first time I had drunk water in months. The day was lovely. We had Sarah and her boyf Ashley and their 2 children, my mother and her partner, my sister and her partner Andy (obviously as it was their house), my Nan & Grandad, Andys little girl and the twins little friends. Usually 7 year old party stuff; BBQ, overeating, loud pop music and Kiss Radio playing, booze, a few tears. I spent most of the day on the trampoline, convincing most of the adults to go on it. Sarah is over 25stone and I made her get on it. She was bouncing and she suddenly fell, and I wish the camera would of been on because when she did, I shot up in the air and came crashing down on her. It was comical beyond belief and had everyone laughing. Managed to get my Mum on there too, as well as my sister. When I woke up yesterday my back was stiff as it could get. In the afternoon I went to my sisters to paint with the twins and they got me back on the trampoline but god, it was so painful but they wouldn't let me off. If I don't lose weight going on it everyday then pffft, I give up!

My Mum is getting ready now as her and Dean are going to London 02 arena for the wrestling. Last time I checked she hates wrestling but I believe she got him the tickets for christmas. It finished about 11pm so she will get the train back tonight. On Sunday, we didn't really want to chance rushing to Kings X with the kids, who will be bloody tired so the plan is to set off, check into the hotel around 3, dump our stuff, try and get the kids to nap (like that will happen, so at least rest) eat and go to the concert. Next day we will go around London. They want to go to the Florence Nightingale Museum but I think the National History would be better. Oh well, we will see.
Yesterday was an adventure of sorts. I was really ill, my methadone wasn't holding me. I get into town and bump into Amy. Somebody owed her money so her and her friend couldn't score some brown. I know where you can get 2 £20 bags for £35 so I went off to get £20 so her £15 could get her and her mate a bag. He got really arsey and tried to take off with the bag himself. I didn't mind sorting her out but why when she has paid half should she get nothing, and why when I have paid £5 more for a bag have to split it in half. Last night, she was starting work as an escort. I arranged to call her at 7pm and she was to pick it up if anything was wrong. I rang at 7.10pm as the phone was already in use at mine. I guess she was ok as she didn't answer. I will ring her soon but I feel odd about it- I was a bit dubious about her doing it, worried, concerned, it didn't seem right to me... not right at all. This afternoon I am going to go to my COMPLEXCASES outpatient thing as I haven't been for ages. We are going to go out walking in the exercise group. Fun, eh! I better as I will be kicked out for lack of participation. I missed my hits yesterday and as a result, have a really bad swollen arm. I hope this doesn't mean another abcess as it was a bloody hit of white and brown. Oooops. No dope left and I can't spend my money on it tomorrow as I need to pay for London this weekend. Bummer.

This is the test

2009-04-19T00:14:00.006+01:00

Whoops. I was thinking about my twin nieces birthday, which is technically now since it is 00:14. They are seven. I was thinking about the GIRLS ALOUD concert i am taking them to next sunday and the hotel we are staying in that night and the museums and places of historical interest the next day I & my sister, their mum, are taking them to. I was reading Shelleys blog, THOSE WHO DANCE... (its in the links) and thought, hell, she is coming off the liquid handcuffs. I came off the liquid handcuffs last year and as a result, I died (see last post) I can't believe what I just done. I just went outside into the garden while smoking my cigarette and squirted my last hit into the grass; £10 heroin and £5 crack. Just squirted it away. No chance of getting it back. Its in the grass. I think I realised there Is no JUST ONE LAST HIT. its bullshit. there is no ONE LAST HIT. you have to stop it. my doctor wants to put me back on subutex so come monday morning, that is what i am going to do. i wouldnt of done if i hadnt of squirted my snowball away but NOW I WILL. i go to my kids party tomorrow and i love them, i dont want them to see what i saw. i dont want me to do to them what my dad did to me.

a year ago today

2009-04-17T20:43:00.005+01:00

Time goes so quickly it very ceases to scare the hell out of me. Exactly a whole year ago today I was, around this time give an hour or take an hour, being rushed to hospital after having respiratory & heart failure, where I was kept overnight before duly coming round and leaving that next day in the early afternoon. What scares me is the state I was in last year. Yes, I had detoxed off methadone (being clean and drunk and doing that fateful shot of cocaine & heroin which lets face it, was only about 1/15th of my normal dosage but hey, thats what kills, sober people underestimating their tolerance) but my head was not in a good place. I was boozing all the time with my 'mate' and I just never stopped. I couldn't sleep due to my lack of opiates so instead of drinking normal hours, I was drinking all hours. My body was in such a mess. Last year, I didn't even remember that, before I took that shot which I knew was playing russian roulette with my life, it was my twin nieces 6th birthday in 2 days. It didn't register. I don't even remember their birthday last year. I was there, but I don't remember. I cannot believe that. Makes me feel very ashamed. Anyway, today I went out and met my keyworker to help me fill in my DLA (Disability Living Allowance) forms and deal with housing. and got the twins their birthday presents. I was ducking and diving through town, avoiding everyone I could. I purchased 2x £20 heroin and 1x £20 crack cocaine on Wednesday. I have loads of crack left and just under a bag of gear. Can't believe I made it last so long. It is no coincidence that my drinking has gone down loads. When I don't have gear, I booze to excess. I feel so much healthier on heroin than I do alcohol. Oh, the sheer irony! It isn't the actual heroin that makes it the devils drug, its the implications due to it being illegal. When I went to the chemist today I saw this women who must be about 40 who was a junkie but looks absolutely smoking, fucking beautiful mumma she is. She doesn't drink a drop but was banging up like it was going out of fashion most of her life. Can you tell? Nope.

I presume everybody has heard about the G20 Summit Protests in London. Now, the officer who shoved Ian Tomlinson to the ground has been arrested for Manslaughter. It has been interesting sitting in the pub over the last few days, listening to some very very educated peoples wide ranging opinions on the matter. I had seen in the newspaper, stills of the women and a policeman with his truncheon raised. It wasn't until today I saw it on the widescreen TV of the pub in motion. I listened to her words and I listened to one say to us "completely brutal... thank god we have brave people like her standing up for what they believe in". Completely brutal... ummm, perhaps a bit heavy handed. Brave? BRAVE? WHAT A FUCKING JOKE! Brave is what the women in Kabul were on Wednesday when they marched peacefully through the streets against what effectively are pro-rape laws. Along the way they were spat at and people threw stones at them. This women in the YouTube film is winding up this copper, going back and back to him. You can hear something along the lines of "i'm a woman" as if this means her behaviour can be excused, they will whack you women or man. If you are told to back off you don't keep on going back and back to a copper do you? All it seems is the mob mentality whipped her up into a bit of a frenzy and they were just having a go at the nearest authority figure (in this case, the long lines of cops). Don't get me wrong, I'm not sticking up for the cops but don't these people realise they can't exactly have a lengthy debate about climate change with the riot police while on duty.

Also, I couldn't help but cringe a little as the 40 and 50-somethings around the bar were laughing out loud at "my generation" as they held banners at the protest while carrying cans of Scrumpy Jack, smoking fags and wearing shoes that probably cost god knows how much financially and envionmentally to ship from China. Eh. I know its not plausible to be 100% green overnight and its not going to happen but ooooh, I felt a little embarrased for them. They just looked like apathetic youths wanting to have a go about anything, passionate enough to get up and protest for the cause but not passionate enough to not swig their way through cans of booze throughout it. Here I am talking about giving things a bad name but they sat and took the royale piss out of them and it touched a nerve with me as I am their age. And why? Because I think terrorism is terrible, the sex trade is terrible, violence is terrible... but I contribute to it all by buying illegal drugs. I felt like the burning hypocrite in the room, I really did.

suicide sundays

2009-04-13T21:00:00.004+01:00

"Suicide Sunday" is the term everybody uses to describe the day that for most people symbolises rest, no rushing about, lounging in ones home, perhaps doing a spot of DIY... of course, if you are a heroin addict then you do not get the luxury of a day off and Sundays are always that much harder to hustle and obtain your gear. Not many people in shops (hard to shoplift as you are more visable), not many people in the streets (hard to make your money if you beg)... the thought of a Sunday is enough to make one shudder with fear, but even more so is a Bank Holiday Monday. I couldn't think of anything to rhyme with Monday that symbolised just how at-the-end-of-your-tether one gets on this day. If I did, I would of coined it and introduced it into our (our being, the community of addicts here in Cambridge) dialect. There is nothing more horrid than a Bank Holiday Monday as it means 2 days of hard struggling if you haven't already got your dope in.

Walking to the Grafton Centre with my Momma, Sister & Twin Nieces to do some shopping I managed to pass all and sundry- mostly all looking rather stressed and upset. On Mill Road, I needed to get a Special Brew as I was beginning to shake and sweat from the lack of booze but when I went in the shop, my Momma was looking in and watching- not intentionally to catch me out, just there was nowhere else to look. I cut my losses and walked out the shop but I bumped into Beckie, the twin who had come out for some Special Brew. I stopped to talk to her and made her go in the shop to get me one and as we walked away I had her sneakily drop it in my handbag right under my Mothers nose. Obviously, I couldn't drink it infront of her or especially my twin nieces so I had to endure another hour without booze. I went and got my methadone, which was a pretty bad idea as I was prone to being sick and if I had of sicked up my meth, well... I would have been screwed. After that, we went up to Burger King where we all had something to eat. I got a horrible double bacon cheeseburger meal and I don't know why I ate it. It was sick. Afterwards, I felt so so bad. Awful. The twins were telling me how gross it looked as they tucked into their apple sticks and chicken nuggets. It did look pretty bad I admit. What a waste of £5- I could of used that to go halfs on a bag with someone. I had no appetite and every bite just messed with my gag reflex. I couldn't even finish it all and after taking the twins to the toilets, told my Mum I was having a panic attack and needed to get some air. I went round the back of the shopping mall and found a little corner where I cracked open my beer and downed it. I was listening to my ipod and was actually smiling, this huge great grin as I could feel the relief spread over my body. I suddenly didn't feel shakey anymore, I stopped sweating, I felt calm. Then I caught a guy in a car with his young son giving me a very pitiful look. I felt bad and retreated further around the corner out of view.

I kept seeing everyone I knew but since they saw me with kids they didn't really talk much or rather, not about gear. I just wanted to get out of the town and back to Mill Road but my sister was clothes shopping so another 2 hours were spent waiting and waiting. On the way back I had Mimi and I took her in the store with me and had to divert her attention while I purchased a 4 pack of Special Brew and hide it quickly in my bag. Finally got to drink it after I went to my sisters, put the kids in the bath and then to bed, then left to go back to mine. Just doing it now.
Financially, things stink. I was so worried today about £££ as I knew I needed my drink and I didn't have any. Just by Gods good grace I managed to scrape together the £10 needed for my drink and food. I notice the grave silence that occurs everytime my Mum or sister bring up something I purchased for myself in the past, or for them. In BOOTS we were looking at make-up and my mum goes "You always used to buy that Dior make-up" which was insanely expensive for me. Then she just stops, doesn't sigh externally but know she is inside, and realises that I would never spent £40 on a compact, ever again. I would spend it on drugs. I don't even have that to my name. Shameful, Sad.

What a fall from grace.

Hep C, Ulcers, Jaundice etc.

2009-04-12T20:58:00.004+01:00

I am on such a low dose of methadone it is rediculous; 40ml. My doctor announced that I was going to go back on subutex, I didn't have a say in the matter. I did stay clean for a few months on subutex but when I decided to use one weekend, I couldn't cope with going into withdrawals before going back on them (which you have to do) so as a result, I just went back to heroin, where I have been ever since. I haven't had a hit since Friday morning, and that was barely anything. Since it is easter Sunday, I didn't have to go to the chemist to get my methadone which I have to do 7 days a week. Good job I am not lazy or I would hate the 4 mile walk everyday. Actually, I have been sitting in all day and since I drink all my holiday booze (1.5 litre bottle of vodka, 5 special brews) yesterday that I only bought that morning to see me through until Monday, I have been going out of my mind. Bored, frightened. I don't know what of. I have been sitting in this house all day and have been going through the dredges of booze; the last of the peach vodka, 1 Tenants super, sherry, red wine.

As it is Easter Sunday my Nanna and Grandad went to church. They left around 9am and I had woken at 7am. Thank god their hearing isn't as great as it was because I spent from 7.15-8am hanging over the toilet bowl. She heard me being sick and ran to the toilet, I let her in and told her I was hungover. Then I turned on the TV, turned it up and left it loud while I proceeded to sit in my room with a bucket retching and heaving. I cannot explain the panic when this happens most mornings. I sweat, get faint as the pressure builds up in my head and begin to stress when it gets to the stage where there is nothing to sick up anymore- that means I just retch and bring up the bile and blood. This morning, I knew I had been sick for 3 days in a row already so I kept an ice-cream tub to collect the blood (if there was anymore- which there was) so I could show my Mum who is a nurse, or my own doctor. Since I hadn't eaten yesterday, I had nothing to sick up but a little fluid and the blood came up, as predicted. About 2 or 3 egg cups full. I didn't want to put it on my Mum again (last time, she cried, got hysterical, made plans to stop me drinking) so I laid down on the floor begging God not to let me die. I always want to die, until I actually think I am going to. Just like last April when I woke up after having died after I had a heroin overdose. Hooked up to loads of machines in the hospital with my Mum and sister at my bedside. When the doctor told me I had cardiac arrest I went into an acute panic thinking "shit, that was my life, over. gone." But as soon as they disconnected my oxygen and machines I left that hospital and yep, you guessed it, scored. And injected the drug that had just days earlier killed me, literally. TO THINK- THATS NEARLY A YEAR AGO! Anyway, I had to go into hospital to have my stomach looked at as the doctor pretty much diagnosed an ulcer, just, now I must have the camera down the old throat (again) to confirm it. While I am there, they are going to try getting blood again. The doctors in a&e couldnt do it but my psychiatrist insisted there are people there that can as I need confirmation that I do or don't have Hepatitis C as these bouts of jaundice I get (where I am as yellow as the sun, I swear) are going to be extra dangerous if its HEP C thats causing it apparently. Why? Because of my drinking, that mixed with Hep C and I apparently don't have a chance in hell.

I'm 21. Jeez. I cannot believe I have never had a boyfriend, or anything like that. It is pretty easy to understand why though. When I got on heroin, I was just a kid, and I have been on it ever since. As a result, I have never emotionally grown-up. Those years were just spent chasing a drug, nothing else. I never socially learnt to deal with people, have relationships etc. etc. I wouldn't have a clue how to behave with the opposite sex. It makes me laugh that I haven't had sex in over a year. I am so shy I can't look at a man. I giggle at the thought of somebody saying they love me or like me or asking me out. Will I ever get back these vital years in which one needs to mature? I don't know but I don't think it matters that much because judging by the bruises I have on my ribcage and my legs (i haven't hit myself, or fallen, they just happen) I won't be around much longer.

MY TWIN NIECES TURN 7 THIS MONTH! AT THE END OF IT WE TAKE THEM TO LONDON TO SEE GIRLS ALOUD !

same ol' same ol'

2009-04-10T00:13:00.005+01:00

Monday, I got taken out to the pub by a beautiful, hot guy who seems to really like me. Problem? Well, no problem unless you consider a problem to be that he happens to be a heroin addict who is also sleeping with men to fund his habit despite being "straight". I have been avoiding him like the plague since we departed from our date. Why? I don't know why, it has nothing to do with what he does because I love him, but I am so fucked up, I am honestly asking myself how could I ever engage in a relationship when I am like this.

Tuesday: I went and actually got some money, £50. I rang up Amy, a girl who is 20, my age (nearly) and asked if she wanted some drugs. DINGDINGDING dumb question. She has no money, and no drugs so she wasn't exactly going to decline, was she? I got two £20 bags of heroin and one £20 of crack cocaine. I gave her one of the heroin, and gave her most of the crack since I don't really like it. I made it last from Tuesday till Thursday since I know I had my methadone to take, too. That and, I can't be falling asleep around my twin nieces and my family, otherwise they will know I am right back where I started.

Today, I had saved my money and not purchased drugs. I wanted to be STRONG. I had one pint of beer/cider (a snakebite & black; 1/2 cider, 1/2 beer & a dash of blackcurrant) and went to the doctors to get my methadone script A.K.A Liquid Handcuffs then proceeded to go back to my sisters and treat the kids to lollies and easter eggs. then i just went in, and drunk. and sat and thought about what i am to do.

trying not to fall asleep at the computer...

2009-03-26T13:23:00.004Z

woke up this morning around 10am which is late for me. i thought 'urgh, another day' but that was soon replaced by 'hell yeah, you have a snowball ready made up and more gear' so I hopped out of bed, said good morning, picked up some water pretending i was actually going to drink it, took a pepsi from the fridge and returned back to my room to do my dig. very nice. was my second snowball in god knows how long. took my breath a-w-a-y. not this monday, but monday the 16th i went to the doctors and showed her my arm and she instantly told me to go to hospital. I insisted I would go, but my friend was waiting for me outside (was true) but even though he would of taken me right away, I decided with my £10 I wanted to get a hit before I went. After all, what pain relief would I get in hospital, being a junkie and all? So, by now, my arm was bigger than the day before and I was delirious and giddy and off my head. I bumped into somebody I didn't really know and had to take my chances he wouldn't rip me off (he didn't) and we took a stroll down town to score and nearly two hours later I was in a much worser shape. I fainted on the way back into the centre. Hospital was at the opposite end of town but I knew I couldn't get there on foot. I was going to go back to the doctors and take the offer of a lift in a ambulance car. After I fainted, I was sweating and began to be sick. It wasn't a dirty hit but could of well been. My legs could barely carry me and I was shaking violently. I was pale as pale could be. Then something odd happens as I am panicing thinking I am going to die. I see Laila, the girl who gave me gear for the first time. She began talking to me as she got off her bike and crossed the road over towards me, about Narcotics Anonymous and staying clean. She had been to Detox5 years before and had an implant, but replapsed and I think it was the recent police intervention (she got caught Nov/Dec dealing to an undercover copper) that managed to finally put her off heroin & crack. I couldn't concentrate standing there talking to her so I said I must go, and she tells me I look ill and asks me whats wrong. She assumes I am clucking until I pull up my sleeve. I tell her I need to call my Mum and she urges me to get to hospital. 'I am trying' I tell her. I see, well she did, a big blue taxi outside the Boathouse pub. I recognise the driver as the father of a boy who was in my class at secondary school. She tells me to get in the taxi, to which I reply 'I have no money'. She tells me she does and I tell her I can't accept it. While I go into a phonebox and ring my Mum, acting all fine and explaining I need to go to hospital to have it checked out (it being an infected cut, I didn't tell her it was an abcess), she talks to the taxi driver. As I put down the reciever she walks up to me and tells me she has paid the driver and I am to get in "Why are you doing this for me?" I ask her, "Because Naomi, I care about you. You are my friend," Nobody has ever done something like that for me before. Ever. I was touched. I took her number, thanked her, and got in the cab. I was so frightened I was going to be sick that I shut my eyes (the light hurt it anyway, and it was VERY sunny) and covered them, putting my head down. I was sweating so much that when I got out the cab, the seat was soaking wet where my back was. The journey seemed to take forever and ever so often I would peek out from behind my hands to see where I was, but every time I was much further away than I could of ever imagined. I didn't want to pay £50 for a clean-up fee if I were to be sick. We eventually got there, though. I felt much better in the a&E.

I sat waiting in a room full of people, one man opposite me had a long 3.5" nail right through his knuckle, the central one. It was making these girls next to me squirm and he enjoyed the banter he was engaging in with them. They asked why I was there and I pulled up my sleeve. The girl sitting next to me actually jumped up from her seat and went "Urghhhhhhhh!" before apologising and sitting back down. Eventually, after 2 or 3 hours I went to see the doctor. One wanted to put me to sleep, and have a plastic surgeon carefully cut it to minimise scarring and make sure he got deep enough to get it ALL out. The other South African doctor just decided to get a scalpal and cut it open, which he did. He lay me down and told me to look away. He just freezed it basically but when he sliced it open I could feel the pus and blood running down. I regret not looking, morbid as it sounds. He described it to me throughout "wow... the amount is unbelievable. Wow! There is even more! Where is it coming from? MORE! MORE!" When he got swabs to take samples he told me it would hurt and it did, he dug it right inside the wound and when I turned to look I was stunned by the size of this said wound. IT WAS HUGE! Like when I've self-harmed. Of course, he cut it open, of course its going to be huge but obviously, since it can't be stitched (need to make sure all the craps out) it seems so odd to be open and left. The hole was crazy and he placed a piece of packing in it to hole to make the sides come together and absorb some of the crap. He gave me an appointment for the following Monday and that was it really. I didn't go on the Monday because it seemed to have healed fine. It hasn't; doctor told me its healing over the top but there is still loads of pus in there that needs to come out. So I still have this big hole, too. Need to get it sorted, its weaping pus all the time and I didn't finish my antibiotics at all. Naughty, I know.

I missed my methadone yesterday and its 13:49 so I should get out of my pyjamas and get ready! Ha, I'm so lazy!!!!

my arm, my arm!

2009-03-15T18:23:00.004Z

On my right arm I have two abcesses; one above the crook of my arm, the other just slightly above my wrist. That one is 10 times the size as the other and is so whoppingly huge and painful I cannot take it. It has made my arm swell from fingertip to shoulder and I cannot move my fingers, or bend my arm. I can only brush my hair with my left hand and apply my make-up with the same and since I am right handed, its making everything take longer by about five fold. This abcess is so huge I cannot explain. My arm is the size of my calf. I am on 3 types of antibiotics 2 4 times a day, 3 4 times a day and another 3 4 times a day. It isn't making a difference but I go to the doctors in the morning to renew my methadone script so I am not worrying too much. I just took 4 codydramol, on my 3rd can of special brew so the pain has subsided SLIGHTLY. also been rubbing germolene into it, which is a local anaesthetic. helps a tad. I woke up this morning vommiting violently; that is what happened the last time I had an abcess. It actually makes me seriously sick. I have a high temperature and my pharmacist noticed today when I went to pick up my methadone I looked deathly pale and was sweating profoundly. Part and parcel of a abcess and of drug abuse. Occupational hazzard I am afraid.

Junkylife has now gone; I have purchased a domain & hosting but I am too dumb to make a layout. I have lost my only outlet (junkylife) and I feel detached and sorrowful; I need to work on it asap as it was the only last bit of purpose I had.

Success Is The Best Form Of Revenge

2008-12-03T10:20:00.001Z

It is 10:05am and I am siting with my twin nieces, Bissy & Mimi who are still poorly. I am trying to explain to them what a Bounty Hunter is, and that led to them asking about the US Justice System. Try explaining that to two six year olds. What prompted this? Why, watching Dog The Bounty Hunter of course. My nanna turns 83 on Friday and my sister has got her Dogs autobiography. I can't wait to read it. I love that show with a geeky passion! So does my Nanna- she introduced it to me during our vodka tonics we have at night. I say they are still poorly, and they are, but they are on their feet so they have improved vastly. I went to the gym yesterday but I was so hungover it was horrible! I could only do half an hour and my hip was so bad. I have a really bad problem with my left hip but I gave up with physiotherapy years back. Silly really, as it restricts me loads and it stops me from doing things like riding a bike. I was on meds for it, a joint problem that couldnt really be figured out. I had my ipod on but I could feel my hip crack and these 2 men and the woman on the crosstreader infront of me turned to look. I was really embarrased especially as I hobbled off but it was nearly time to hit the showers and get ready anyway as I had an appointment at 2:30pm. Saw the doctor for the first time in 2 weeks and got another subutex prescription. I asked to get Christmas Eves subutex the day before so I don't have to bother picking it up that day. When I go back in two weeks, I will ask for Boxing Days, too. Christmas Eve I am taking the kids with my sister to Beauty & The Beast so I won't really have time to go get it. Plus, who wants to go get their script on Christmas Eve? I want to stay with my family indoors until the performance and then go for a christmas tipple afterwards. And Boxing Day! Making me trudge out to the chemist. Last year when I was on methadone I skipped it and got a telling off from the Chemist, this indian lady. She always has a go at me now if I miss my subutex but sometimes I have to because even though I have been giving clean drugs tests, they wont let me have one day off if I want to go out of Cambridge. It sometimes feels as if I might aswell be on smack still. After the doctor, as I was making my way upstairs I bumped into Pascale my drugs worker (well, basically she gives me drug tests via the mouth swab method. thats all) and she pulled me into the office and made me ring my old methadone clinic which is now the place that does the art therapy etc. Turns out I missed an appointment on Monday with Annette and everybody was really worried and concerned. She told me they actually thought I had gone back on drugs as I am usually so reliable now and it was completely unlike me. Pascale didn't seem too convinced, which annoyed me slightly. I wanted to prove my innocense but wasn't granted a swab test. I haven't been in 2 weeks. It would settle things right away but obviously wasn't needed this time. I left the doctors, picked up my script and put in my new prescription then headed to The Burleigh Arms where my mate Tim was sitting having a drink. I was a bit pissed off with myself that I had a double whiskey & diet coke plus a Tequila & slimline Tonic. It wasn't needed; just empty calories and a bad headache. I cracked open a beer at about one in the morning, a Stella *urgh*, took one sip and ditched it. No way. I couldn't of coped with a hangover like yesterdays. I must be getting old, because its taking me ages to recover. Or maybe its just the excessive way of living thats taken its toll? My body has had enough. After the pub, I walked to CB1 this cafe on Mill Road (there is also a CB2 which is bigger, 5 or so minutes walk away, round the corner) where I met Danni. I only went in it for the first time last year as my sister used to tell me they must have a back door for the geeks to exit via as otherwise they were totally liable to get a good kicking. No, I wasn't scared of getting beat up, I just thought I would look like a pretentious wanker. The windows are old fashioned, big, makes it like a fishbowl. I'm too aware of everybody having a good look in and seeing what you are up to. But I had to go in as I was meeting her there. We rang up College to arrange a time to go on to see what financial help I can get for my education. I am waiting on my move and when that happens, I am ready to get back to school. But financially I already have a £2,000 overdraft which I'm paying loads of interest on. Its going to be a struggle and I'll need to get a job. I'm worried about putting too much on myself... burning out. I am off to the gym later, when my sister gets back from University. I keep on thinking about gear. The doctor asked me if I want to keep going with my subutex, whether I want to be reduced and how I want to come off. I have already (secretly) reduced myself. Well, not so much a secret now. As for coming off them, its too soon. I done that with methadone and ended up literally dying when I went back on it in April. I need to go at least 6 months. As for coming off them... rehab! Detox5! Naltraxone implant (blocks the effects of heroin so you cannot feel it.) I will think about it when the time comes but I cannot stop toying with the idea of in the new year taking some gear at some point. Though, I think it would probably kill me. I am toying with it but in theory it doesn't have much of an attraction due to the fact to get it, I will have to spend £40 as for my £20 I will have to get somebody a £20, too (if I go through any othe users). Lot of money to feel mediocre and then I will have to wait till I'm in withdrawal to go back on my subbies. I probably won't do it. I'm under no illusion that I am anything special. I am not important but there is particularly a couple of people I know who would love to see me right back down where I was. I just recieved an email from one actually, quite horrible. Somebody once told me; "Success Is The Best Form Of Revenge" and I thoroughly agree with it. I am looking in disbelief at this actually, what a bastard! Right, I am going off to cook my Nong Shim Ram Yun Hot & Spicy Noodle Soup, finish watching The OC (guilty pleasure) and hit the gym. I am trying not to get so excited at the prospect of moving into a new place. Though I am totally confused about what to do; social care or textiles? or english language?

1 month clean

2008-11-25T09:11:00.002Z

i was lazy and just copied and pasted this from my post on opiophile

i originally started my script a few days before my 21st birthday on october 1st. but i got a bit wobbley and was taking them one day, then skipping a few others. pointless, as the half-life meant i did not feel a thing. anyway, today is my first month completely clean of anything. i only took cocaine with heroin at the same time and i dont smoke pot, or do benzos etc. so its not as if i have had anything else to give up. well, yes i have, i have stopped smoking and am using those nicotine lozengers and thats going very well, haven’t smoked either but tomorrow i get paid so i shall let that be the ultimate test; see if i cave in and buy a pack. still drink but am greatly reducing it. i was doing about 35 units a day (the recommended daily amount for uk women is 2-3 i believe?) so though i tried to give that up cold turkey, i had the worse withdrawals. i have just tapered it down gradually.my old methadone clinic has been taken over by addaction (the whole system here to treat addicts in cambridge recently went through a massive change) and they run a ’structured day programme’ to get people on maintenance programmes back into a routine, while doing useful things and working towards getting back into education or employment if you feel ready. i attend the art therapy group there and they have also given me free access to a gym. i used to love going to my old gym but obviously couldnt afford it, or be arsed to go for that matter as my habit got worse. its relatively new and its brilliant with a pool, too. i found that when i stopped gear, i put on nearly 2 stone so now im 5ft5 and 11 and a half stone. all on my tummy. got a proper beer belly. ive always had problems with food so this got me down. i went shopping with my momma and got some long gym clothes to cover up my scars as i am going to my induction at 1pm. i am a bit scared, mostly because i used to be so fit, so im terribly unhealthy and i dont think ill be able to run like i used to. oh well, i will start easy. if i use it after the month they will decide if they should renew it. if you dont go you never get a second chance so thats an incentive in itself.
i feel so good. i dont really miss heroin at all. sometimes, i think “i dont know how to be anything else but a junkie!” and its scary as i havent really done anything these past years apart from make money to score drugs to take them. im having to learn loads of new shit. if i learnt to be a junkie though i can learn to be something else.i am a bit worried about my upcoming blood tests. i dont want hep c (who does?!?!) but i was so recklass, im hoping thats the worse thing that is spoken in the results session. cant believe how dumb i was but hey, got to pay a price for the “fun” i had. i had a £2,000 overdraft and im paying about £18-20 a month interest. im on £56 a week so i cant even begin to pay it off, so im just forking out for this interest. its easy to get stressed, and i instantly think “i could use that as an excuse to go back on gear” but i know its dumb.
im not thinking i have beat it. a month is so little time to be thinking i am cured. but hey, its the longest i have been clean in years really. i know its corny when they say take every day one step at a time but its true. i was worrying about what happens when one of my relatives die, i have a break-up, fail at something,…. it will be far too inviting and tempting to act out the old “just this once to get through this” spiel you give yourself. but fuck that, i will deal with that when it comes.
its early days but i feel fucking great. i am now realising just how much i let myself go and i am recoiling in horror at some of my behaviour. but, i am trying to laugh it off. like good ‘ol squeeze said “I’d beg for some forgiveness, but begging’s not my business”
thanks, i just have to get it out. my reaching one month is so foreign- i have never had this before!

tomorrow, one month clean

2008-11-24T09:38:00.002Z

time just flies doesn’t it. well, it did when i was on gear. its odd- well no, not odd, logical that when i was using heroin the days just bled into one another and i would end up losing chunks of time… now i’m not using, days drag and it feels as if i have been off heroin for about 6 months. to say the days feel longer is an understatement! my momma got back from canada & new york the day before yesterday. i was so happy, i had missed her so much and she hadn’t been gone that long. she came round to my nanna’s where i was waiting for her at about 10pm. she had been at my sisters and was stinking drunk by the time she arrived. momma had treated herself to some absolut peach vodka and the mandarin variety, which i desperately wanted to try but she had already devoured it along with my sister, her partner andy and my moms boyfriend, Dean. momma never used to let me drink around her but i was allowed to hit up the liquor cabinet with her. what a privalidge! she got all sentimental on me and so did my nanna. momma was worse though, telling me what a lovely, pretty girl i was and how it was so nice to have me back (as in, my old personality which was drowned out by my constant excessive drug use). one thing that makes me laugh is the fact nobody really wants to use the word HEROIN and slang names like “gear” “brown” “horse” “smack” are too shocking and painful for them to use and hear. so my mum calls it “doo daa”. “it’s no nice now you are off the old doo daa,” its amusing to hear.
im just on the telephone…. now off the telephone. i was just booking my Gym Induction. i am now with addaction at the building which was the old methadone clinic. they have a structured day programme offering art therapy, training, exercise etc. to get you back into a routine and to take away all that time you have on your hands. coz you know what they say “idle hands are the devils playground”. they gave me an option to join the gym and i took it. i thought it would be a crappy sports centre but its a really nice play with good gym & pool. you have a card that you swipe each time you go and at the end of 1 month addaction get billed and see if you are using it and ask you if its helping you. i used to go to GREENS this super nice gym by my old house but it was £50 a month and i couldnt afford it once i got on gear. i cant afford this one either really but i dont feel bad about addaction getting the bill, after all, its saving money in other areas like my healthcare for when i get so poorly every winter. thats Wednesday i go. kind of makes me nervous that i’m really unfit and ill have to start from the bottom. i am really self-concious too so that will cause me problems. i have put on soooooo much weight and the thought of being in a bikini makes me want to barf, and probably will make others want to, too! what am i going to do about booze? i have tried to lower my drinking but i get the worse withdrawals its awful. i cant turn up pissed to the gym but i can’t leave the house without one. what a catch 22, what with the booze making me even fatter. oh yeah, my momma got my HERSHEYS CHOCOLATE PRETZELS in a big tin and 2 M&M Lip Balms. really helps to have choco flavoured chap stick i can tell you, and knowing those pretzels are in the kitchen just a’ callin’ my name…. torture.
went to art therapy on thursday, i loved it. really loved it. anyway, must book a dentist appointment and also get ready. i’m still in my pjs! lazy, i know.

the crazy system!

2008-11-22T21:40:00.001Z

Drugs are easily available and always have been. You get your socially acceptable ones and then the others which make you a social pariah. Cocaine is acceptable to many in moderation; if it was not I am sure it would not be so common for surfaces in city toilets to test positive for them when a journalist decides to investigate our countries ever-increasing drug problem. Then there are drugs like Heroin which by most, is branded the lowest of the low and perhaps quite rightly, in terms of the dispair one reaches if they are unlucky enough to get caught up in an addiction to it. I unfortunately have been a heroin addict for 5 years and have just turned 21. I cannot put down here just how terrible my life was, and still is, plus the knock-on effect it had on the people around me. My mother, a dedicated Nurse working for the NHS had a nervous breakdown after I overdosed and had respitory & heart failure, and has been off work for 5 months. It is not just an emotional knock-on effect, its economical. Although I did not turn to burglary, street robbery etc. I know many who do and their lives are just a constant circle of committing a crime to get drugs to get arrested and put in prison to come out clean to start up again straight away. The money this is costing our society is rediculous especially since a few number of lucky addicts get prescribed Diamorphine Hydrachloride which injected, eliminates the need for street heroin. Thus, knocking out the dealers, the risk of contracting diseases through risky activities such as needle sharing and eliminating the drug-motivated crimes that effect YOU. If you have ever been burgled or mugged you will know how distressing it is, and it will probably be even more so when you find out our state prescribes Diamorphine, but just not to the person who burgled you. Chances are they were not on a prescription or were on methadone. If methadone is the wonderdrug it is supposed to be, why are people still taking heroin on top of it?It is very simple, make it more available. The heroin trade funds terrorism that the public want to see eliminated. As long as its illegal they will keep on reaping the collosal benefits.I was put on methadone at 17 and it was not until after this that I turned to prostitution to fund my habit. Why would I need to when I was on methadone? I could of been prescribed heroin to save myself from having to go through all the things I did, in the process wrecking relationships between my friends and family. The system in place at the moment is you only get prescribed diamorphine when you have PROVED you cannot be treated, which is very ironic. You have to go through the system for 20, 30 years showing you are untreatable, costing the taxpayer thousands in keeping you incarcerated over the years, keeping you on benefits… then you get what could save you and help you become a valuble member of society.
Drugs are always going to be around in society. What we have to do is prevent (its a cliche, I know, but its better than a cure) and treat properly those that have a problem. Louise was very lucky to get into the In-Volve centre, resources are stretched to the limit and the only way usually you can get into rehab is if you have unlimited funds.

methadone; cure or con?

2008-11-12T22:02:00.001Z

One drug - a green liquid in a beaker - is an addictive opiate that takes users at least five weeks to come off. Another - a brown powder in a syringe - is an addictive opiate that takes users five days to come off. The liquid is methadone. The powder is heroin. One is legally prescribed by doctors. The other is illegally procured from dealers. What, they’re asking in Britain’s drugs capital, is the good of that?
By Mary Braid
Published: 19 July 2000

Alex Clark, a 38-year-old from Ruchazie, a run-down council estate on Glasgow’s east side, sits in Marco’s Gym and reels off a long list. They’re the names of neighbours and relatives, all smackheads, and all dead, ruined, or on the run. Alex’s cousin Danny, who has been on heroin since his teens, is the one on the run - somewhere in England, hiding from dealers to whom he owes money. In his case, flight was sensible. A few months back machete-wielding pushers put another cousin, Aldo, in the city’s Royal Infirmary for owing a few hundred pounds.
Alex Clark, a 38-year-old from Ruchazie, a run-down council estate on Glasgow’s east side, sits in Marco’s Gym and reels off a long list. They’re the names of neighbours and relatives, all smackheads, and all dead, ruined, or on the run. Alex’s cousin Danny, who has been on heroin since his teens, is the one on the run - somewhere in England, hiding from dealers to whom he owes money. In his case, flight was sensible. A few months back machete-wielding pushers put another cousin, Aldo, in the city’s Royal Infirmary for owing a few hundred pounds.
Meanwhile, Alex, after eight years on heroin, is seeking salvation through weights and stomach-wrenching sit-ups. It has been three months since he last shot up, and his abstinence has made his older brother Andrew, who is 39, proud. “What’s great is to see Alex with his two sons again, because for a while there he lost them,” says Andrew, whose skinny frame and hollow Celtic eyes are so similar to Alex’s that the brothers might be twins. “And it’s great to hear him laugh again. There’s not much laughing when you’re using.” Alex, still a little jittery, came off cold turkey, just as Andrew did two and a half years ago, following his own eight years on smack.
When it comes to kicking heroin, however, abstinence is not, generally, the Glasgow way. As in other parts of Britain, methadone, prescribed by GPs, is now the orthodox medical treatment for the 8,500 “jaggers” who have turned Glasgow into Europe’s heroin capital.
Widespread prescription of liquid methadone, taken orally as a heroin substitute, was introduced in the Eighties to curb the spread of HIV by needle-sharing addicts. But the strenuous promotion of methadone - an addictive opiate, just like heroin - as a medicine angered some communities, already drowning in drugs, and at least one in four Glasgow GPs still refuse to take part in the scheme. Methadone, none the less, has emerged as the treatment king.
Addicts, it seems, just can’t get enough. In 1992, there were just 140 Glaswegians on methadone prescription. Today, around 3,000 visit their chemist every day to swallow the sweetened green liquid provided by the state. There’s a waiting list to join the programme and Greater Glasgow Health Board has plans for further expansion. Last month a government drugs-advisory group held the Glasgow scheme up as a national model, after stricter supervision appeared to cut fatal methadone overdoses. This month, the first research into methadone in Glasgow sings its praises, claiming it reduces injecting, overdoses and crime.
Andrew Horne, of the Glasgow Drugs Crisis Centre, is among those who argue that methadone clearly reduces the harm heroin does, both to society and to the individual user. Dispensed in a non-injectable form, it is, he says, better for the health of addicts and also protects society from infection. “Methadone or heroin injected into the groin - which would you rather have?” he says.
Horne also argues that daily supervision of addicts on the methadone programme brings users into daily contact with services that can help them. There are no statistics to reveal how many addicts are helped by methadone to become drug-free. Horne says a large proportion of addicts simply grow out of opiate use, but he insists that the methadone programme does help significant numbers to kick their drug habit. “It is a stepping stone,” he says. “The best way to detox is to use a substitute drug and do it slowly.”
All of which would be dandy, except for critics’ claims that there is no evidence the opiate is actually doing what many presume to be its principal job: ie helping addicts to come off heroin and other drugs. Last year a record 152 people died from overdoses (mainly heroin) in the Strathclyde region, 52 more than the year before. Methadone, some warn, has now become just another dangerous drug swilling round a city infamous for “polydrug” misuse.
For their part, the Clark brothers hate methadone. Alex and Andrew’s brother-in-law, Davie, was prescribed it after five years of injecting heroin. It was supposed to ease his withdrawal and help him kick drugs. Ten years later, at the age of 33, he is still on methadone. It’s the same story, they say, with the rest of the old Ruchazie gang - at least for those who are still alive. Most have been on methadone prescription for years and - despite the scheme’s rules against using other drugs, enforced by urine testing - they continue to inject heroin and take other drugs.
The main difference between the opiates is that methadone, while it does not offer the intense high that heroin does, is longer-lasting. Addicts on the programme should not need to dose more than once a day, while heroin addicts come down much faster and need to “dose” at frequent intervals. But compared to heroin, they say, methadone is boring - a Volvo against the preferred Ferrari, and, therefore, treated just as a “top-up” to heroin.
“The health board would consider Davie a success story,” says Alex bitterly. “He does not inject or take other drugs. But he’s like a vegetable. He used to have a good head on him but now he just sits at home all day.”
Alex’s brother Andrew took methadone for four weeks when he broke with smack. “It did take away the aches and pains of withdrawal, but psychologically the benefits wore off in days - and coming off was worse than it was with heroin,” he says. It takes five days to come off heroin but five to 15 weeks to kick methadone, which is a consideration for addicts, with jail a constant occupational hazard.
Alex complains that drug centres never treat the individual addict but simply prescribe methadone to everyone. He relates how, three months ago, after 14 days without heroin, he went for medical help. “I wanted to stay off,” he recalls. “I had a house like the one in Trainspotting - there was nothing in it. A drugs counsellor took just 10 minutes to decide methadone was for me, though I told her I was already detoxed.”
Despite Davie’s experience, Alex admits he was tempted: “By then I was gasping for anything.” So he went along to his local methadone group. “There were 15 of them there, all slumped forward,” he says, now laughing. “I was introduced and - shit! - I realised I knew most of them.”
Alex made his excuses and left and finally gave into Andrew’s pleas that he join Calton Athletic Recovery Group, a hard-line abstinence group based in Denniston, in Glasgow’s East End, which was famous for a while as the technical adviser to the film of Trainspotting. Calton, which is bitterly critical of the methadone programme and currently embroiled in a funding row, is where Andrew came off, and where Alex is now trying to kick his habit. Some days are hard, but it was peer pressure, Alex says, which sucked him in in the first place. Now another peer group, he believes, can help rescue him.
Calton offers football, half-marathons, daily work-outs, and group-therapy sessions. Its controversial director, Davie Bryce - who is a hero to his fans and a bloody-minded svengali to his critics - believes exercise stimulates endorphins suppressed by years of addiction. As Bryce, a former heroin addict himself like everyone at Calton, earthily explains: “You don’t get better sitting on your arse.”
Calton is supportive, but tough. And Bryce, in track suit and trainers, is scathing of the suited professionals who blame addiction on poverty, giving addicts too many places to hide. Calton’s mantra is individual responsibility. “I used to blame social conditions and Thatcherism,” says Bryce. “I blamed everything and everyone, bar drugs.”
The health board, and a host of Glasgow drug centres, claim methadone helps addicts, as well as society, by stabilising them until they feel able to tackle dependence. But Calton bans all drugs - prescribed or otherwise - including alcohol. To Bryce, prescribing methadone makes as much sense as switching an alcoholic from whisky to gin.
“Methadone is not a treatment,” he says angrily. “It is a method of social control, introduced to contain HIV infection.” During the Aids panic, he says, the authorities had to reach the drug-taking population and methadone was the carrot that lured addicts in. Bryce reluctantly allows that methadone might have a very short-term application, if addicts moved off it before dependence set in. “But it’s not used as a means of getting people into detox,” he argues. Another Glasgow drugs counsellor, who does not want to be named, agrees. “You get these reports about methadone working miracles, but I don’t know anyone it has helped come off. Its an inexpensive way for the health board to look like it’s actually doing something. And no one takes the board on now because we all rely on it for funds.”
The study into methadone’s effect on the behaviour of Glasgow addicts - co-authored by Dr Laurence Gruer, public health consultant and the driving force behind Glasgow’s methadone programme - makes no assessment of methadone as an addiction-busting drug. Gruer’s fellow co-author Sharon Hutchison, of the Scottish Centre for Infection and Environmental Health, says that a drug-free life is the long-term goal of methadone programmes. But the study only covered addicts’ first 12 months on methadone - too soon, apparently, to expect long-term heroin users to become drug-free. But the question arises: if methadone brings such dramatic improvements to addicts’ lives, why are so many of them still relying on it, years after their first prescription?
Professor Neil McKeganey, of Glasgow University’s Centre for Drug Misuse Research, does not argue with the social benefits of methadone in curbing infection and crime. A £3m methadone programme looks good value when set against the £194m of goods that Glasgow addicts steal annually to fund their habits. It is generally accepted that given free methadone, addicts do steal less.
“But the big question has to be what effect, if any, is methadone having on heroin addiction,” says McKeganey. “And the truth is we don’t have any evidence either way.” McKeganey says that when psychiatrists were responsible for the care of heroin addicts - before Aids arrived and public health and infectious diseases consultants took over - they were largely sceptical about methadone as a treatment, as countries including France remain today.
McKeganey agrees that short-term use of methadone might stabilise an addict. “But stability is not an end in itself,” he warns. “Methadone should be the point from which other things take place and that’s not happening in Glasgow.”
From his own interviews with addicts, he believes that for some, the opiate may create an even stronger dependence than heroin. Professor Russell Newcombe, a drugs lecturer at Liverpool John Moores University, argues that because of the longer withdrawal period, methadone may, in fact, extend addictions by years. Yet there are no studies into the long-term effects of the drug.
Meanwhile Calton’s members believe that, secretly, the health board has given up on addicts, convinced they cannot be saved, or that saving them would cost too much. Janis, who is 29, finally came off heroin five years ago. “I had sold everything,” she says. “I slept rough on the streets. Eventually I joined a methadone programme, lying that I wanted to kick heroin just so I could get more drugs.” It was a year before a urine test revealed she was still using heroin and other narcotics.
“My habit just got bigger and my life got out of control,” she says. “I thought the only way you got out was to die. That was all I was seeing around me.” Bryce laughs that the health authority likes schemes that are “non-directive and non-judgmental” when directive and judgemental are just what addicts need.
“I wanted someone to tell me how to get off and stay off, ” remembers Janis. “I didn’t want someone to ask me what I wanted to do. How would I have known, the mess I was in?” Fundamentally, she says, she needed role models to show what was possible. That finally happened when she saw a Calton presentation in prison.
Janis, understandably, wants more abstinence schemes. But even drugs counsellors who support methadone projects, warn that Glasgow’s expanding scheme is facing problems because of scarce long-term rehabilitation programmes. “We have them on methadone but we can’t get them off,” says one drugs-project manager who prefers anonymity because he, like most others, relies on health-board funds.
Alex, meanwhile, struggles on with the daily sit-ups at Marco’s Gym. “I worried at first that it was all too late to get clean,” he says. “But I believe now that had I gone on methadone I would be sitting in the house just like [my brother-in-law] Davie.”
http://news.independent.co.uk/health/article266397.ece

2nd November

2008-11-02T11:13:00.001Z

To think my mother told me I was too old to have a chocolate advent calendar this year. And my sister too. We may be 21 and 25 but I am happy to report Nanna did not disappoint and purchased us one. Phew. I haven’t gone a year without one since I was old enough to gum chocolate. Christmas is stressing me slightly; last year I spent a few hundred pounds on presents but the irony will have it that now I am actually on subutex and clean, I have no money. A measley £200 I get a month and that is not all in one lump, so I am going to have to plan presents carefully. Everybody is telling me it does not matter what I get them, no matter how small, as they are just estatically happy I am well. That is all very well but in practise, I cannot come christmas morning deliver nothing. Twins come first and then I will think about everyone else. So much for all the parties I wanted to go to. Never mind, I am pretty damn happy just to be around my family. I love xmas time. BREAKTHROUGH: my family are actually trusting me with money. Asked what I would like for christmas, I said clothes so naturally my Nanna and my Momma will give me money, not buy them for me and cross their fingers hoping I will like them. Yes, you read me right… they are going to physically give me the money. They said they trust me. I might of wrote somewhere that never in the past few years have they trusted me with even a £1 coin, as that might be the £1 needed to make it to £10, and then get a bag of heroin. Which I do not blame them for. Some family & friends of addicts would think this is way too early to be giving money to a junky as they are only just over a month clean, but they obviously have faith in me and so do I. Even if I didn’t, I couldn’t let them down it would break their trust and their hearts. I could not do it, period. I need some new clothes, anyway. I went shopping with my Momma last week and she got me some trainers, gym clothes and one of those wanky ipod nano holders you strap to your arm for the gym. I looked the part all kitted out in my outfit but when I got in the gym I thought I was going to pass out and die. I hadn’t had a drink of alcohol and my head was spinning- before I even got on a piece of exercise equipment. I left the gym, walked to a shop but it was shut. Cashpoint outside was broken and the pub next door didn’t except cards. I took this as a sign and walked back to the gym where I started small. Couldn’t believe how unfit I was, I used to be able to do 40 minute runs at my old gym at level 10 (12 being the max). I went the next day (thursday) and did a lot better 35 minutes on the cross treader. Then 10 minute warm-down on the treadmill. When I got off that I actually thought I was going to faint. I told myself I couldn’t and shouldn’t push it. I haven’t been since, so a 4 day break. I am going today in an hour. That will give me time to have a work-out, get a shower and get to my doctors appointment on time and then to see my key worker. My key worker was off sick for a good while but she is back and I met with her at the coffee shop with her cover, Liz, who looked after me while she was gone. That was Friday. She asked me if I would like to go swimming with her as she wants to get healthy, too. I said yes, of course. She is absolutely lovely, the best key worker I could wish for. 10 years ago she used to look after my sister in a childrens home. So she sort of remembered me, but definetely did my momma and sister.
Oh it is raining and is damn right miserable. Appointments are at 2.30 and 4 I believe so I have to hang about in between. I will have to stay away from anywhere that sells yummy food. I started out so well last week; cut out booze, chocolate, ate lean meats and salads. Then, I went to the pub with my sis & momma on saturday and the drinking never stopped- I added up my alcohol calories and I nearly died. My weight is ballooning and ballooning and I need to stop it in its tracks. I don’t want to buy big clothes it will just depress me. If heroin was good for one thing, it was weight loss (note: please nobody actually take it to loose weight, took about 2 years for me to drop my weight and it came at a price, i actually looked like shit). I totally forgot my twin nieces were sitting in the front room. They have both been so very ill since Friday afterschool. We knew something was wrong as they couldn’t eat and just laid in bed, interacting with one another through strained messages spoken to me and relayed to the other. Bless ‘em. Lots of Calpol and a few days later and they should be ok for school tomorrow. HOUSE MOVE: going well. Looking to have a place soon. Phew. Cannot wait. Once I do, its straight back to work or at least work from home- but I would have to research self-imployment for a brief period as I would be doing that until September only. When I meet my key worker today we are going to go over a university & college prospectus, so I can apply ASAP. I cannot go another year without not being in education. Would kill me!
My Momma is back at work. They start you off softly, since she was nearly 5 months off. Only mornings this week. My family keep on buying me stuff and offering to pay for this and that, I tell them no need but they are so happy I am staying clean they cannot stop treating me. I guess because they have always been generous with what little they had and while I was on gear, they couldn’t treat me as I wasn’t always around and for moral and fairness reasons, too (why should I spend all my money on gear when my momma works hard for her poxy wage only to buy us stuff?). I guess she is making up for it. I should get ready- for being humiliated at the gym. ha.
Sunday, non-league Histon beat Leeds 1-0 at home. My uncle does the illustrations/cartoons for the Histon Programme so he got to go with his partner, Sonia. I totally forgot about how much I loved sport when I was using so its nice to be able to sit and enjoy it again. http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/fa_cup/7744743.stm

its far too cold to be an addict

2008-10-27T20:52:00.001Z

The first few years of my heroin addiction, I didn’t mind running about in the freezing cold (November-Feb/March) to make money and then walk god knows where to score the drugs. I would walk miles and miles with only my Creative Zen Micro to keep my spirits up. Then, as the years wore on, I was sick and tired of the whole damn scene and I couldn’t be arsed with it anymore. And when you are cold… I find it even harder, if not impossible to find a vein, so it was a major hassle in EVERY way. I tried to go back to smoking it but my lungs were so bad; I constantly had chronic infections. I have always loved the wintertime, but thats if I am curled up in my own comfy home watching cable TV and chugging a beer and stuffing myself with seasonal junk food. Like I said in a previous post, heroin waits for nothing; least of all the Christmas Holidays and the bad weather and you have to go out all day everyday regardless to stay well.
I have seen a correllation in my success rate when it comes to drug dependancy treatment in the form of methadone. Seems every winter I do really well, then I fuck it off as soon as spring comes around and am caining it all summer until the bad weather comes back. Ok, you have to go and pick up your methadone everyday but thats ONCE a day and takes about 40 minutes out of your day if you walk, 10 if you get a lift in the car. Like now, today I noticed its far too damn cold to be running about scoring and getting money for a fix.
I went to an appointment this morning with Pascale, from Addaction, who helped me fill in a form to move house. By the time I finished, it was 1.30pm so my chemist was shut until 2.45pm. I cracked open a beer and went to Christs Piece to sit and write and listen to my Ipod. Soon kids with their grandparents sat next to me on the bench so I had to move because I was smoking, so I went to the Princess Diana Memorial in the centre of the green. Bumped into Basil, Sophie, Amy & Lee. I went and sat with them after a while, as I didn’t want to appear like I was shunning them. I had to walk with them to Sainsburys to get their Tudor Rose Sherry which is about £2.50 a bottle. Couldn’t drink that stuff if you paid me (especially not in public). Everybody was staring at us because us three girls are under 21 and well turned out. The cans of special brew & sherry bottles don’t go.
Anyway, got back to Christs Piece and bumped into Mark Lipscombe. Met him at Oliver Ryans 21st party in September. I was rattling that day/night and puked everywhere. It was freezing so after introducing me to his mate Jack, we went to The Regal, a Wetherspoons. Had a pint. Christs Piece was full of youngsters trying to score weed and/or smoking it. Weed was never my drug but I could see myself in a few of the kids there, particularly the ones rapping about how much they wanted to die and how they’d tried to kill themselves. What can I say? Can’t lie to them. Life isn’t going to get any better than at your age. At least I don’t think so.
I have been on my Subutex again since Saturday night and I feel good. Ok. Fine. Its coming up to my Mommas holiday to America & Canada and I know she won’t go if she is worried about me (Which she permanently is). I’m going to behave, for her. And, christmas. I need to start saving big time. Last year…. I shudder at the cost.
I have my appointment with the psychiatrist tomorrow. Drafted in quite quickly. I also have to see my doctor to get my prescription; she asked me if a spell in hospital might help (Fulbourn, Addenbrookes, S3, S4). Would it? Probably. If I have to live at mine much longer I am going to top myself without a doubt, or less drastically, make myself homeless on purpose. It meant a lot to me to hang out with people my own age today, but they just talked about cocaine, weed & LSD. While they talked about coke, I just thought about how nice Snowballs are (heroin and crack mixed together and injected). Other drugs don’t do it for me. None do. Its heroin, my one true love. But I have to accept, I can’t have him. I can’t.

21 today!

2008-10-01T15:18:00.001+01:00

what is more unbelievable, i have actually made my 21st birthday or the prospect that i can actually break away from heroin? who knows, i don’t care right now. i am actually pretty happy, which, i haven’t been in years, even on my birthday. probably because heroin waits for nobody, and doesn’t give you a day off on holidays & special occassions… they are like any other day. you still get ill, you still have to get money, to score. i had a wonderful day yesterday with my momma and my sister. we went shopping, got me a nice hotpink ipod nano, a beautiful coat, make-up, mittens etc. it wasn’t what i got materially, it was the time spent with the family, something we haven’t done in a while. it was such a giggle. later today we will pick up the twins from school and take them to my nans where we will have a piss-up. we were going to go out to eat but i didn’t fancy it. id rather stay in, i’m not ready to face the world without being obliterated. and i dont want to be obliterated infront of the kids. i will meet my sis during today, she finishes uni at 12. i had a wicked day before yesterday, spent it with tom llyod. nice he remembered/bothered. had such a giggle but anyway, must go, i need to do my hair and what an ordeal that is.
subutex is working great. works fine, agrees with me, no problems. i actually pretty much forget about drugs when im occupied, until i see my arms or legs that is, but i have been assured they will go in time.

day 3

2008-09-27T09:50:00.003+01:00

so this is day 3 of my subutex. suprisingly, i dont feel too bad at all. last night was pretty awful though, dizzy spells that led to fainting a couple of times, vomitting. but there is nothing i can do; subutex blocks the effects of heroin, so i might aswell set fire to my money than stick it in my vein. cant do that anyway; my arms and legs are in such a mess…. bruises everywhere, torn veins where i have missed my hits (with crack in them too, which in my experience, always leads to an abcess). my last ever hit i had on wednesday (you have to stop using for 24 hours before you take subutex) and i didn’t even get it… i couldn’t find a vein so blood that seeped in just clogged up my hit. squirted it out, recooked it in the spoon to get rid of the clots, put it back in a syringe, tried again. couldn’t get it. in the end, i just injected in my foot, but missed half of it so now im walking around like a cripple. nobody seems to realise how much damage injecting does, you loose your veins; most old-timers i know (old-timers being in their 20s, 30s) have to go in their necks or like me, their groins. and when they go…. so have one of your legs and you have to go back to smoking it. i don’t miss the hours it took me to find a vein.
i am finding it hard to fathom how for the past years i have nonstop used heroin and crack, injecting it into my body on a daily basis. completely not caring about the consequences. the first thing i did when i exited hospital after my overdoses was, yes you guessed it, go and scored again. i didn’t care. i’m dreading to think what i have done to my body. scary. scary because heroin is the ultimate painkiller, now i dont have that, and my body is starting to ache. big time.
im going to go to the chemist and pick up my two 8mg subbies, highest dose, which you let dissolve under your tongue. i am so glad i didn’t go on methadone but as i said in my last post, i only chose methadone so i could STILL use. like, its my birthday on October 1st and before i got my subbies, sitting in the doctors waiting room i was like “but what if you want to use on special occassions, like your birthday, you can’t. go on methadone, but just use every few months, naomi” then i realised what lies i was telling myself, what i had been telling myself for years. i cannot touch heroin. at all. i can’t control myself when i use it so i am going to have to accept that if i want to have any form of decent life i have to cut it out forever. which i will find hard, as i sit here romanticising the ‘good times’
but then i think, what good times? it was only good for the first couple. everything beyond that was just to stay well and heed off withdrawing. i am wincing at the money i have spent. in excess of £120+ a day at my worse. what i could of done with that. oh well, this must of happened for a reason, right?

make or break

2008-09-14T21:38:00.005+01:00

I guess you can pretty much say this is 'make or break time' now. I do believe for certain things and certain people, change can happen at any point. I have this gut feeling though, that if I do not turn things around now, I never will. I have already lost 8 years to drugs and I can easily see myself losing the other X amount, also. And if I carry on, nothing will be carved in stone except for the fact those X amount of years probably will not go into double figures. So, on the 25th September at 2pm I have an appointment with the doctor to be put on Subutex. I did not want to go on methadone- to me, it really was no better than heroin apart from the fact it was

free; so it kept me away from the constant need to find money any way and any how and
needed to be taken just once orally; no injecting needed
safe; no worries about purity, that it might be poison, etc. etc. 100% clean from a reliable source.

Though, obviously, as most of you will know, methadone has its downsides. People are heavily divided about it- both opiate addicts and their families, health professionals etc. When I was on my methadone maintanence programmes I discovered a lot of negative points and I really did not see myself progress in any which way or form. Like many others, I continued to use heroin and just used methadone as a safety net- it was there for when I couldn't get any heroin, so I didn't have to endure the dreadful ordeal that is cold turkey. These downsides consisted of

Drowsiness; I still carried on dozing off. Even when I lowered my dose from 60ml to 50ml.
Collecting; I had to pick up my methadone 7 days a week from Boots at the Grafton Center, along with god knows how many other junkies which meant we were all passing each other, just like we used to, but instead of going to our illegal dealer, we were going to the state supported one. We just tempted one another, and it was all to easy to approach somebody else picking up their script and ask if they wanted to go halfs on a bag. We couldn't leave the 'scene' behind.
Isolation; Once I no longer had to score heroin (which is, as we know, a full-time business) I got in with old friends and began to spend less and less time in the scene. But you had to go everyday to pick up your script, and drink it infront of the pharmacist, and your friends if you hadn't given them a good enough excuse for why they should wait outside. You couldn't with the money you saved from not having to buy heroin, go away for a weekend to say, Brighton. You needed to be in Cambridge to pick up your script.
Addictiveness; Methadone is a lot stronger than heroin and takes, obviously, a lot longer to come off.
Sugar; It took me ages to get sugar-free methadone, and this was only after complaining and comparing my teeth to everyone elses, or rather, the gaps where everyone elses used to be. My friend Becky is 32, her top teeth are rotted beyond repair.

I will have to go to the pharmacy everyday for my Subutex but the difference is, Subutex blocks the effects of heroin. There isn't much of a point in me taking it, not like with methadone. My sleeping patterns have dramatically changed; I get up at about 6am every morning now so my plan is to go to the chemist as early as possible to avoid everyone else (lets face it- if I'm not sleeping now I'm on heroin, what chance do I have when I stop it!?!). I will have to rattle for over 24 hours before I go to my appointment and collect my prescription for one Subutex. This is because, the first time you take it, if you have heroin or methadone in your system you go into an instant, violent withdrawal. No thank you. I can't cope with a normal withdrawal, so I'd had to experience that. Urgh.

I am really looking forward to this. May seem strange to say that, looking forward to feeling so damn ill when you know you could just spend £10 and rid yourself of that unbearable pain. But thats just it... you rid yourself of the physical pain for a couple of hours then you need to go and get more money to stop it starting again. And you do so much bad shit, you degrade yourself, abuse yourself, sell your dignity... all for something that doesn't even last longer than a few hours. Something that has helped destroy your life beyond repair. See what I mean about the make or break.... either I do it this time, or I just resign myself to the fact I don't want to change, and I will carry on my life of utter misery, disgusting behaviour and lawlessness. I just hope and pray I do it this time. This time... everything is resting on it.

a month since i died a little death

2008-05-17T18:56:00.002+01:00

me and my mate always used to call “going over” (overdosing) ‘dying a little death’; thats if you get saved by the paramedics, of course. exactly one month ago today i done a hit of heroin and cocaine, after i’d been drinking vodka all day long. i don’t remember a thing when it comes to the drugs- i didn’t feel it hit, i didn’t feel myself loose conscience… i came round after about 15minutes with 3 paramedics in my flat, half-naked (they had to cut open my clothes to get quick access to my chest) and h00ked up to some weird machine. i got worse when they arrived, having had respitory failure. i didn’t realise how serious this was, but i actually stopped breathing. the paramedics said if they hadn’t been so close to my house, i wouldn’t of made it. i spent the next 15 hours in hospital hooked up to some machine. it was horrible. mike rang my sister and mum so when i got to A&e they were there. meanwhile, i was still half-naked and in and out of sleepiness. the doctors were very nice to me.
so yeah, i had a terrible brush with death. and it infuriated my family that i wouldn’t take it seriously. i would of done, but i don’t care. i’m back on heroin and cocaine. fuck. i just really don’t see a point; this is something that is going to be with me for the rest of time. i have to accept it i suppose. i feel so bad for going over, my family ring about 20 times a day each because they are so worried about me. if i don’t pick up they race round and knock on my door or phone the police to knock down my door. oh heroin. why was i foolish enough to touch it again after going through all that pain withdrawing off methadone?
been back to devon, back friends with dylan… i’ll write again soon.

a month since i died a little death

2008-05-17T18:56:00.000+01:00

.

2008-04-18T07:19:00.001+01:00

Naomi is in hospital. She Overdosed at approx. 10pm last night. She is out of the woods but still in hospital under observation. This came as quite a shock to all of us as she had been doing so well.
Dylan.

blip...blip...blip

2008-04-06T19:01:00.002+01:00

heroin has lost all novelty. of course it would, seven years of it and what it brings; collapsed veins, debt, severe illness, Deep Vein Thrombosis etc. etc….. you’d be stupid not to come to that conclusion. the last couple of days have been shit. i bumped into my ‘junky’ mates who live opposite me. i hung out with them, and let two of them stay at mine for two nights. the second day i saw one had bought a £20 bag, and i asked for some. they said yes. no shit, i had 30ml out of a 160ml and it knocked me on my arse for 13 hours, i couldn’t stay awake. to say i fucked off mike was an understatement. i am at my nans now, i just walked out without saying goodbye. i have been self-harming a lot. i feel better without heroin, but i still want to top myself. more than i have ever done before. i fear, that when he walks out, that will happen. he hurts me, with what he says, but i sit there stoney faced and pretend i don’t. i would go back on the heroin, but i can’t even be arsed to do that anymore.
junkylife is dying. we need to move. anyone know how i can transfer all my garbage a.k.a writing?

i love asti

2008-03-30T07:00:00.001+01:00

aaaaaaaaaah. i feel so rough. no wonder, i drunk myself neigh on death last night, a fist full of diazepam (to celebrate my ‘out of the woods- i think my cluck is over’ (the physical pain part- roll on months of non-sleeping, depression etc. etc.). and the clocks went back, so i’ve had one less hour. i got all excited when i woke at 7am, thinking fuck i am getting better (you can’t sleep when you come off opiates, even with shit loads of sleepers and valium) but no, it was technically 6am. never mind. i don’t know how i got home last night but i did. i had to be carried to bed and upon waking, and waking up my mate, he told me i had given him a rough night, rolling about, stealing covers. when my eyes opened, fuck, my head was swimming. i was still in my clothes (which always indicates my incapacity from the night before; i can’t even undress myself if i get too wasted). got up, downed a big glass of orange squash, woke Mike, and wayhey, he produced a bottle of ASTI MARTINI from the side of the bed. god, thats one of my fave drinks. ASTI for breakfast with the first morning cigarette, heaven.
Hmmmmmmm…… I might go to church. Or just sit here getting drunk. Must see my twin nieces today. And stop reading my massive collection of heroin-related books. Like Christiane F, Junk, Nikki Sixx Heroin Diaries.

CLEAN

2008-03-29T17:04:00.001Z

I really didn’t have much faith in myself, I had good intentions, sure, you are ready to quit all the time, as long as its next Tuesday. I was 90% sure I would do it, but then this remainder was whispering in the back of my mind; “how the hell are you going to just quit something you’ve been submersed in for the past 7 years?”. I live in central Cambridge, and drugs & their associations are everywhere; the dealers, the users, the public toilets I used to shoot up in, the chemists where I would get my citric acid & needles. Urgh. I can’t believe I led such an existance for so long. Or let me rephrase that, I can’t believed I stayed alive for so long.
Anyway, I’m still clean. No methadone, no heroin, no nothing. Because of the withdrawal symptoms, my stomach has been awful. Couldn’t stop puking at first, so my drinkings cut down. Some days it is just down to a couple of cans. Considering what I was drinking, that’s left me feeling very clear headed and for the first time in years, alone with myself. Perfect for reflecting on what a cunt I’ve been to those who love me.
I wouldn’t of been able to do this without a certain someone. He has stayed around me every single day and waited on me hand and foot when I was crippled with pain. He tidied my house, collecting the 250+ syringes that were around, even though it made him feel utterly sick. He took me to Devon after deciding he would help me come off it. It was a very rash decision, quick. But I didn’t need much thought. I was on a methadone programme, trapsing to the BOOTS CHEMIST in the Grafton Centre each day, passing the same people I would pass and associate with if I was scoring. It wasn’t helping and there were days when I would see them, skip my meth and go do a shit load of snowballs instead. I was in the same drugs crowd, but expecting not to use, yet have it in my face all the time. Not blaming anyone else but myself, but it would be like doing a withdrawal knowing you had a stash of heroin hidden under a rock in your garden. Impossible. I wanted to meet his family. He means a lot to me. Bless him.
I am not jumping the gun, its been x days (can you do the math whilst refering to the previous post, I’m crap at calculating) and I know this is going to be a problem for the rest of my life. I can NEVER touch it again, and if I do, I know it will spiral into another dependance. I got a letter about finally, my psychiatrist. Problem is, I know it was a day or two ago, and I’ve missed it. I’ll get a second chance, but I feel like a git for missing it, having bitched about it for so long (or the lack of it).
Talking of missing stuff, I saw my docter Wynn the Thursday before last. She is going to put me on naltrexone all depending on my liver function test. Which reminds me, I need to get some blood taken, the nurses tried last time and they couldn’t get a vein. Makes me feel great about potentially being in a car crash; need an urgent transfusion, all that wasted time faffing around for a vein before going for my neck or groin. And also, naltrexone, it blocks the opiate receptors; so I couldn’t have morphine (Well, I could, but I wouldn’t fucking feel it) so what would that leave me? Nitrous Oxide. What a load of bollocks. So; go it alone, or take it? Either way, the NHS only provide it with pills and like my Dad on his antabuse, if he wanted to start drinking again, he would stop taking them a couple of days before hand, otherwise, if he drunk alchohol on them, he would violently become ill. So, surely if I wanted to ever do it again, I would just stop them? But for little out-of-the-blue temptations, its a godsend I am sure. You could take it, but you wouldn’t feel it. Oh I don’t know.
I spent a wicked day in the pub yesterday with Dylan. I was ill as fuck, I knew so because my first drink was a plain pepsi, and for me to be drinking a soft drink anywhere, let alone a pub, is fucking seriously out of character.
Oh dear, I feel happy. Hear that, happy. Christ. What’s coming over me? Maybe I have mistook this 7 years of addiction for simple teenage angst and rebellion?
Ha.

COMPLETE NEGLECT

2008-03-18T12:05:00.001Z

sorry, i have totally neglected this thing. haven’t had much access to the internet. “why?” do i hear you say? well, just been too lazy. i wanted to write earlier, when i got back from Devon last Monday. but, that was day one of my cluck, my cold turkey, my impending doom. i decided to stop the methadone, the heroin… just like that. i’m still hanging in there. so it has been a while, certainly for me anyway. i have never in the past 7 years gone longer than a few days, at the most. i’m just numbing myself with paracetomol, weed & alcohol. actually, strike that out, the first one; paracetomol. those are just for placebo effect. i think the only reason i am being successful is because when i tried before, i wasn’t ready to give it up. i was still enjoying it too much. now, now i’m sick to the fucking back teeth of it.
i’ll write again soon. and thanks shelly, its nice to hear from you. thought of you the other day.
george, drop me a mail.

HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM THE POLICE!

2008-01-02T11:38:00.002Z

whoever fucking decided to raid a 20 year old girls flat who doesn’t have a criminal record is a fucking twat. sorry, but did any police watch me? they couldn’t of because i wasn’t even anywhere near my house for weeks. so if i didn’t go to my flat for ages, why would my flat be full of drugs? what, you think a junkie is going to leave loads of heroin and crack in their flat but not visit it and devour them? duh. i know who provided this ‘information’ aka bollox. they were obviously pissed off they couldn’t find anything because they gave up searching (they didn’t even break open all my locked cupboards, my safe etc. as i think they got the picture i had nothing. but if i did, twats didn’t open the most obvious hiding place). BUT NOT WITHOUT smashing shit loads of my stuff. i had a massive oil painting of me that they smashed apart (presumebly to look inside for drugs?) which will cost me a bomb to fix. they smashed all my plates, cups etc. by just swiping all my kitchen cupboard contents onto the floor. they tipped out all my fabrics, trimmings etc. on the floor, smashing loads of glass beads, smashing my acrylic paints open. now i have to get a solicitor to claim back all the damage INCLUDING the fact they broke down my door, didn’t secure it, and i got burgled. yes, i got burgled as a result. i can’t believe this, i just want peace and quiet. the police took one look at why the door was so easy to re-break (a drugs raid; even though i was found 100% innocent with no drugs) and didn’t give a fuck about helping me. he arrested and bailed the two found guilty for it but are they going to get charged? are they fuck! they don’t want to help a junkie but if i were a middle-class mother of two they would of sat me down, consolled me and done everything in their power to bring the two to justice. police, why are you such bastards? my mum is a nurse and when somebody with self-inflicted injuries comes in (Whether its an alcoholic with liver disease, a self-harmer with an injury that needs stitching or an anorexic with severe life-threatening malnutrition) SHE CANNOT AND DOESN’T AND WOULDN’T DREAM OF GOING “hmmm… they bought it on themselves, sorry. not going to treat you. next.” but police can do that, and they do.
soooo… on another note. i had a good time in bradford. however, i went clubbing, came out at 4am and yes, HEROIN AND CRACK COCAINE FOUND ME! even though i don’t have a clue who to score off there. a person begging outside the club asked for a cig and i gave them one, she saw my arms and said “oh god, you don’t look like your on gear but thats a bit of a fucking giveaway, you want to cover them up girl. though i suppose, non-junkies won’t know, will they?” so yes. i spent £60 on drugs and went to some filthy crack den before returning to my hotel and telling my mum i had gone for a curry. gone for a curry? i went for a big massive hit and the reason i was falling asleep so much the next morning while watching I AM LEGEND is because i saved a £15 bag, shot it up and it knocked me for six when combined with no sleep, methadone & loads of booze. i might aswell kiss goodbye my life now. im going to go over one of these days.
i’ll be brown bread before i know it.

XMAS EVE

2007-12-24T10:54:00.001Z

woke up pretty early, 7am. thats early for me. im just sitting here drinking jack daniels & coke. oh, how i love that it is socially acceptable to drink this early when its christmas! well, at least, at 10.30am onwards, not from 7am when i started. i got mugged of my brand new Samsung D900i last Sunday. a boy hit me and snatched it. i tried to fight him off but wasn’t strong enough. some lady in her house called the police and i was in the station until 4am in the morning making a statement. did they do anything? of course not. i need to ban the phone, by retrieving the incident crime number and ringing up 02. i don’t want that fucker to get anything out of it. its bright pink, so he will sell it or give it to his girlfriend/mum. i only had it a week, and thats £150 down the drain (my £50 memory card was in it).
my arms are dropping off, aching, dying. i went shopping on saturday for gifts and they were so heavy i pulled a muscle in my back and was just stuck on the spot and couldn’t move. in the busy shopping centre i had to buy a suitcase and put as much as i could in it, as nobody offered to help me (who does in this day in age; a couple walked past me hand in hand as i was getting mugged and done nothing, not even called cops) as i stood there unable to bend down. i had to kick all my bags along the floor into the luggage shop, which hurt bad enough. but anyway, important thing is, i got all the presents. i would write what they are now but my family will read this and then the cover will be blown. but my mum, who constantly slags me off, should feel proud of me that i had £250 that i spent all on presents when i could of gone on a crack and smack binge and got everyone a present worth £5 each. her presents come to £95 alone. hissssssssssss mum. she is being such a bitch, she is pushing me to the brink telling me i’m killing my nan, ruining their relationship. shouldn’t she know the only way i can change things is by not being here? what she want me to do, top myself?
im off to pick up my script. and get last minute presents.

CHRISTMAS vultures

2007-12-19T19:56:00.001Z

Today I have had to endure being pushed, shoved, knocked into things, tutted at, sworn at… which can only signify one thing- its the run up to Christmas and I went to the mall to buy presents! Big mistake leaving it all so late. It was pure hell. I lost count of the amount of times I said ‘Sorry’ for accidently stepping in somebodies way and have them tut and comment on my lack of spacial awareness. Don’t you just hate the Christmas Vultures. Yes you know who you are; you ruthlessly dash about knocking down anything and anyone in your way, you won’t even think twice about snatching a toy from the hands of a child who has just picked it, the last one, off the shelf and you tut tut tut at everyone and make Christmas Shopping a truly horrible experience for everyone who DARES to cross your path. Anyway, I actually managed to get some things. JUST. Vintage Pink Kitchen Pots for Caroline my sister, plus a beautiful double bed size Pink Fur Throw. My twin nieces, Barbie Walkie Talkies and a kids electric guitar each (its this totally wicked guitar with tons of Aerosmith stylee noises- since they are 4 i opted for a pretend one). Nanna, loads of special brew and figgy puddings and Palmers Cocoa Butter. Going to get her a wok though. Couldn’t resist treating myself to 2 beautiful corsets from Warehouse SPOTLIGHT @ Debenhams. My mum convinced me to try on a red one (very 50s looking, which I ultimately purchased, its under the cut) and I never thought red and red hair would go together, but alas, according to her and the shop assistant it did, so I got it. And I also got a beautiful beaded one. Still have loads more to buy for however. Which is proving tricky considering everytime I get money it goes straight away on heroin. I got given £40 last night from Tim and I rung up for some gear. It was about 7.30pm and it was so eerie out, so misty and foggy, you couldn’t see 8 metres infront of you it was that bad. I had no credit on my phone so I had to stand and wait…and wait… eventually I went to a phonebox, and they asked me to meet them elsewhere. They kept me there until 8.50pm. God, if stores treated you like that, you would never go back to them and they’d go out of business. But people aren’t addicted to clothes like we are to heroin. They know they can treat us how they want and we will still come crawling at one point or another. Grrrrrrrrr.
Anyway, got to knock it on the head. Christmas Shopping and being in the mall gave me a taste of the life I used to have… when I had money and used to go on holiday, buy all the clothes i wanted, had wicked electrical goods… everything (within reason). I want to get that back. Must go.

clean for a while

2007-12-18T16:57:00.001Z

im knackered. lack of sleep. sunday night i was walking home and i got mugged of my brand new samsung d900i that i purchased a few days prior. i was happily going along listening to music on it and i just felt somebody punch me. tried to hold on to it for as long as possible but i couldnt in the end, which might of had something to do with him stamping on my head? a couple just walked past me while it happened, and i tried to run after him but he was on a bike so i couldnt catch up in the end. some lady in her house called the police and i was sitting in the station until 4am. i really didn’t want to, i mean, what was the point? we all know the police aren’t going to do anything about it. but neh, how irritating. i have a clean criminal record and wouldn’t dream of stealing off someone, so i find it hard to comprehend when i hear or experience first hand stuff like this. i just hope to come across him again.
apart from that, nothing new to report i suppose. i need to go christmas shopping. i have so much to get for people. i have an appointment on thursday for a new prescription. i have actually stayed clean. can you believe that? im drug free. it doesn’t help that the phone i had stolen had all my dealers numbers in…. or does it? actually, i think it does. thats good, right? that i can’t get in touch with them. might be the case but now i’m just drinking a bottle of vodka a day and about 8 special brew. great. Helen Tilley should be giving birth soon. Sods law it will happen while I’m in Bradford over New Year.
I get paid tonight. I just have to resist the urge to go out and buy a load of heroin and crack for a massive session. I think I can do it, if I lay off the booze, because I have no self-control when I’m drunk. And I need to give a clean sample for this weeks drug test. I have to. Of course, after my appointment at 2.30pm Thursday, I’m going to go and buy the biggest amount of smack and crack you have ever seen and hit it up into my feet like there is no tomorrow… and who knows? maybe my tollerance will have dropped so much there won’t be!

forced entry into my humble abode

2007-12-15T11:59:00.001Z

well, im all happy and smug, carrying bags of christmas presents and the wrapping paper i am going to adorn them in. been trapsing all day buying presents for my family. been slugging my guts out making sure i have the right things for the right members of family.
THEN…. I think, oh, i will pop back to my flat. I get there and WHAT DO I SEE?
My flat has been broken into. The door lock has been replaced with a cheap wooden one; why? Because, the police have forced entry. Why? I DONT KNOW. ALL I KNOW IS THERE WAS THIS POOR PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR AN EXPLINATION ON MY FRONT DOOR WHEN I TRIED TO GO THERE TONIGHT AT 7pm. No, i haven’t committed a crime, otherwise, the council wouldn’t be telling me i could go get my new keys to the new lock. But, of course, I have to get those on Week Days, unless I want to ring the emergancy number, which is for… ummm… emergancies… am i an emergancy? i have had my lock changed, my flat broken into, i have no working keys, and i want to get into my house? is that an emergancy? i hope so. it annoys me that the council, etc. etc. have my contact number… they have THREE DIFFERENT CONTACT NUMBERS AND BEFORE THEY BROKE DOWN MY DOOR THEY DIDNT RING ONE OF THEM! why didn’t they? if they rung my mum, she could of given them my key. if they rung my sister, she could of also. if they rung me, i would of let them in. sorry, but they are crazy! i am completely co-operational… why didnt they come to me first before breaking down my flat door? all i’m thinking is, wow, what the fuck has happened?

good morning

2007-12-01T07:00:00.001Z

what the hell am i doing up this early? well, it is now 7.10am but i got up at 6am. i didn’t even get an especially early night… well, i got into bed at 1.30am so i suppose actually that is early for me. i was exhausted, sitting up on the computer and as much as i wanted to carry on browsing through worthless websites, i knew i needed to get into bed. was it the £60 worth of heroin and crack i consumed in hit after consecutive hit? or was it the 6 special brew, double vodka red bulls or sherry i downed far too quickly? who knows. i do not know how my nanna does it. i am staying at her house and at 6am when i went into the kitchen to sneak my special brew out of the fridge, she was in there already. i forgot she gets up at 5.30am EVERY morning, then proceeds to make a pot of tea for her and my Grandad Geoff, drinks it then cleans her already immaculate house before jumping in the shower, dressing and cooking a kick-ass breakfast. 5.30am? my nanna is 82 on 5th December (note to self: go buy her present PRONTO) and as much as i try to fool her, she cannot be fooled, especially when it comes to alcohol. i said good morning, opened the fridge and pulled out a can of coca-cola and when i thought she was busy mopping the floor, stuck the can of special brew down my pj bottoms, shut the fridge, and with my back to her, began to walk back to my bedroom. no chance; “you are not starting this early are you?” she asks, to which i take the can out from my pj bottoms and proceed to put it back, accompanied by the lamest answer “oh no, i just wanted to put it in my handbag so i dont forget it when i leave”. i knew that was shit, and so did she, since i am staying here for a while as my sister and the twins dad are going christmas shopping, so they are coming over. i saw the twins last night. bissy is very poorly so i suspect i shall catch her chest infection today if i didn’t already last night (when she was on my lap hugging and kissing me). well, it is now 7.21am. i hate getting up early as i have even more time on my hands with fuck all to do with it. i think i might try and attempt a new layout for this blog. it would be nice to actually have a neutral layout that isn’t all junkified as my life doesnt just revolve around that, does it? oh actually, yes it does. but my momma doesn’t approve of the site but hey, what momma would? anyone that strolls across this site will instantly know her daughter is a raving smackhead, the least i can do is not glorify my lifestyle with a layout containing pictures of my drug paraphenalia etc. etc.

scared to death

2007-11-30T09:01:00.001Z

i got up at 10am today, but to be honest, i needed the sleep. yesterday, i didn’t get to bed until 3am when the police dropped me off back home. no, i didn’t do anything wrong (ive got a clean criminal record). earlier on in the day when i met my ECHG worker danni, we rang the police and asked if i could make a statement. they said they would come see me in the afternoon. they didn’t ring me until 11pm at night and thats when they picked me up. i didn’t get back until 3am. hence why i was tired, and i had to get up at 9am. they arrested him at 4am in the morning and he didnt get released until 3pm. he would of been so ill from lack of heroin. even though i had 2 seperate letters he had sent me confessing and apologising for beating me up, my broken phone he smashed up which was still covered in my blood, and the injuries to my body- he was released without charge. i feel bad i told on him and he had to go cold turkey. i thought everyone in the street life circle would hate me and call me a grass, but everyone has said “you will be suprised how we dont mind you contacting the police when its regarding a male hitting a woman”. so i feel slightly better. i can’t walk down the street without shitting myself, ill have to see him at some point. i’m petrified. i am so frightened. i did a swab drugs test yesterday when i went for my methadone prescription. hidden in my bra was some clean piss (which i had just paid £40 for in the form of £20 heroin and £20 crack) but she did a swab from my mouth and i lied and said i was clean. riiiiiiiiiiite…. obviously its going to come up negative. bollox. i am off to meet dylan. i am so angry. pissed off. scared. i’m going to get my commupance. lack of evidence meant he is off scott free. i knew that.

stupid? yes i am

2007-11-27T11:34:00.001Z

i let him round. i saw him on the street saturday and i let him walk me to score drugs. brilliant. i scored 5 bags of heroin and one crack cocaine. he didn’t ask for any of it, and he walked me back to my home, where he used to live until he beat me. he had no money left. he could barely walk, or talk, due to the amount of heroin/crack/alcohol he had consumed, but somehow he followed me home. i said to him, since the next day was sunday and he had no money, and Monday was the day after and he needed to go to work, I will give you a bag. So he came back Sunday and I gave him £10 to buy himself one. I knew he wouldn’t keep it until Monday morning so he would go to work well, but what junkie would? Come on! He came round tonight, Monday, and dropped off a sofa with his Dad. I’m supposed to give a clean piss test Thursday at 2.30pm and I hadn’t used today. He came in and offered me a hit of White and Dark (thats crack-cocaine & heroin for ya’lls that don’t know) and of course, I didn’t say no. I fucking hope i clear my piss test or mouth swab test on Thursday. Do you think I will? Jesus, I can’t live with methadone but I can’t live without. You get me?
I’m a vegetable on methadone. It is NO BETTER THAN HEROIN. I have no motivation, no nothing. It’s just the same with heroin. Though, on heroin, you have to get your next fix so you run around trying to raise the money. With methadone, you don’t need to. So you just sit and rot away. When I don’t use, I just lie in bed ALL day. I can’t get up, I can’t move. I want to, but I just can’t. Its CATCH 22…. go on methadone and you don’t have to run around trying to raise £100 everyday, or don’t and you have to earn that each day or youre severely ill. It’s crazy.
I look at Amy Winehouse… all these articles about her. I wish somebody would of tried to make me go to rehab, I wouldn’t of said NO, NO, NO. I ain’t got the money, and the state won’t give me it either, honey…. I wish they’d tried to make me go to rehab, I wouldn’t of said NO NO NO.

im a man of means by no means

2007-11-22T22:21:00.002Z

I know every engineer on every train

All of their children, and all of their names

And every handout in every town

And every lock that ain’t locked

When no one’s around.

Dylan lovingly woke me up at 7am by continuously ringing my phone until I answered it. Even when I did, I was still half asleep I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Just caught something about him wanting to meet later, which might be a bit tricky as I have my appointment to get a repeat prescription at 2.30pm and after I need to see Danny about getting in touch with the police. Danny is my ECHG (English Church Housing Group) Support Worker and she is absolutely wicked. So lovely. Coincidently, she used to work with my sister when she was in a childrens home. She probably finds it no suprise that I turned out the way I did if she remembers anything of what my sister told her and how she behaved. My nanna is 82 and gets up at 5.30am in the morning, makes a cuppa tea and tidies up. I don’t know how she does it. She came in at 7.30am to see if I was up and suprisingly I was due to Dylan, but I acted as if I had arose all by myself. I didn’t hit the sack until about 3am. Managed to drift asleep at the computer and drop a can of special brew all over her wooden floor. I always do that. Did it last time I was here but at least it wasn’t all over her computer this time.

I sing,
Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let, fifty cents
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain’t got no cigarettes
Ah, but, two hours of pushin’ broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I’m a man of means by no means
King of the road.

The reason I was so like that is because yesterday I was bored at mine and popped out for some cigarettes when I bumped into my mate Charlies Mum. Charlie lives near me and is also a user, alongside her Mum. Her Mum asked if I could help her score. I said yes. And decided to do so myself. I scored 2 x £20 heroin and 1 x £20 crack cocaine. I ended up doing both bags within 30 minutes of each other and straight after I had to go pick up my 60ml of methadone. THEN meet Dylan for a drink. I had a couple of vodka & red bulls to try and perk me up but I felt as if I was going to fall asleep. It was awful. I had to stand up to keep myself from dozing off. I had been using this great vein on the inside of my left wrist but on the second hit, I completely missed it all but because there was white in it I didn’t notice. What a waste. Never mind. I’m not a huge crack cocaine fiend and there is a little tiny bit left over.
I don’t know how the fuck I support my habit. My Momma says I’m one of these people that “Always falls into the shit but comes out smelling of roses” She is right. I do. I always find my feet and if I’m going cold turkey, I always come across money. I can’t figure out whether that is a good thing or not. Probably, otherwise I would have a criminal record the length of my arm by now.
My grandad is giving me a lift home in a couple of hours. I hope HE hasn’t been in my flat. I am petrified he will have stolen my TVs or even worse my sewing machine that cost a penny short of £1,000. That is my livelyhood. I hope not. I’m frightened to open the door. Or what if he is waiting with a knife to stab me? Snap out of it Naomi! If he hasn’t stolen my sewing machine I’m going to get cracking on some bags and some clothes, I need to make some extra cash for Christmas Clubbing Money. All those festive Do’s to go to… I can’t miss out.
Oh well. I’m going to carry on listening to oldies radio stations and dancing around the room trying to shed some of the many pounds I’m putting on. I dropped a lot of weight now my appetite has come back. Its probably natures way of keeping me well over the freezing cold winter period. Because as it stood a month or so ago, I was setting myself up for pneumonia said my mother, a registered nurse who is very well qualified to predict such a thing. Aparently, I was a prime candidate. I still am. Great. Just finished a pint glass of sherry and feel as if my esophogus is melting away from the excess stomach acid that is cascading up it. Know what I’m going to do? Pour another sherry? Are you crazy? I’ll have something less acidic, like a Special Brew.

drug addicted relationships

2007-11-21T14:10:00.002Z

i got home, back to him, having not given a snippet away to my family about what had happened. when i take a picture, i will post it. of my phone (it was a samsung slide-y one, which he snapped in half, literally. and just for dramatic effect, the cracked screen is covered in blood where he ripped it out my hand), the big deep cut in my hand, etc.etc. ALL of which I blamed on myself. I invented some kind of stupid accident. Even though they were pretty good, they instantly translated the “i accidently” into “i was drunk and…”. When I got back from my Nans, after the last post, he was there. And he was a complete bastard. Not even remotely remorseful. He started again. So I did what I should of done and when my Momma rang I told her on the phone, and the only thing that stopped him from ripping that out of my hand and stamping on both it and I was she quite audibly said for his benefit “if you fail to pick up the phone i’m coming round with your sister as well as ringing the police”. I made him leave. I felt terrible. I still feel terrible. For making him go at about 10pm at night. But I couldn’t risk what would happen next.

His fury over the fact I am now on a methadone script and don’t need to score drugs to stay well caused him to be very nasty. Despite the fact I was on a script, I was being forced into getting money for his habit. How was that fair? It was as if I should never of bothered fighting to get on one in the first place. I worried about how, when I had kicked him out, he would support his drug habit. Since he was putting down a floor at mine, he had a key, which he supposedly left in his Dads work van. I am hoping he did, otherwise, since I am not at my flat, he could go in and steal whatever/trash it/wait in the shadows till I come back and stab me. I know he hasn’t gone to work, but has he really left it there? Or is it in his pocket?

The night after I made him leave, I heard nothing from him. However, my mate Dylan saw him coming down the stairs from my flat door. He didn’t knock or anything. But now I know why. At first, I heard that and thought he maybe just thought about knocking to reconcile, apologise etc. but got to the door and backed out. Why no, he went into my shed which is right next to my front door. From there, he stole my laptop, sold it, and proceeded to go back to the very same spot and cheekily do the drugs he had purchased with what should of been MY MONEY since that was my property he pawned. How perfect was my shed… out of the way of the harsh elements and even better, right as you open the door you are greeted by a lovely comfy chair that just literally screams to wandering, drifting ex-s “rest your weary bones”. What would of made it only slightly more perfect would of been if there was a working light bulb in there but, ha, there wasn’t. I realise now the git was shacking up in my shed until he found a place at the local homeless night shelter. I heard lots of noise but thought it was just my neighbours. No, it was him. He didn’t even have the sense to remove all the drug paraphenalia from there so he could at least deny he wasn’t in there, and therefore wasn’t the one who stole the things that were in there.

I’m rather bloody frightened. When I’m out walking, for example to the chemist, to my Nans… I’m looking around everywhere. The first night after he left I was walking back from the chemist when I saw him walking away from the direction of my house. My heart was racing. Not sure what I was quite scared of, I don’t think he would do anything in public, but thats it. Its dark at 5.30pm and not that many people are about in all the places I walk. I carried on walking and he chased after me “Two words… two words”. I looked at him, without saying a word. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Sorry” I just walked off. Tonight, while I was walking to the chemist, I saw him. I’m 99% it was him. From afar, the clothes were the same, the way he stood. It was. As I got closer, it was him. I started to worry why he was just waiting in such a spot. Was he waiting to see me go to get my script, so he could go to mine and do god knows what? I am frightened to go back to my flat and find out. Instead, after getting my script I met Dylan and had a drink in The Vine at the top of Burleigh Street. Quite a wanky place. Tries to be posh and in the heated smoking area outside, there were these complete tossers from a nearby company. A young Asian man, late 20s. Talking about his office cleaner to the group “Give her whatever hours. I don’t care if she does 4, 5, 6 hours just as long as I don’t see her. All I want to see is her timesheet, but not her. The last person I want to see or have to talk to is a bloody cleaner. So whatever you do, make her leave by 5 as I never want to set eyes on her”. Dylan had his back to this loud man and turned right around to clap eyes on him to see what such a prick could possibly look like. The man knew this and was quite embarrased. We weren’t listening in, his voice was bellowing and he was showing off. I wonder what company they were from…. double glazing sales? When I’m having a shit day, I love little snippets like this that remind me of just how really shallow and crappy the world is. I didn’t stay long there. After, I walked to my Nans. Stopped off on the way home and bought myself some Choco-Banana Pocky, Turkish Delight for Nan and a Walnut Whip for Grandad. He just picked the nut off the top and left the rest till later. I want to swipe it but thats greedy of me since I purchased it for him. I could justify it by telling myself he is diabetic and shouldn’t be eating stuff like that….?

My prescription has run out so I shall have to see my lady at the doctors so I can get another one. I did actually slip up the day after he left. My mate came round at about 10pm and I was steaming drunk by this time…. I celebrated my new found singleness by buying loads of booze, magazines & cigarettes (he never let me buy them as aparently they were a waste of money), yummy blackberries + strawberries and pizza. And she knocked and offered me a snowball. I said yes. I don’t think I would of done if I wasn’t so under the influence. That is no excuse, its my fault, but I refused one the next day when I was entirely sober. I felt very guilty actually. I feel as if I’ve let myself down big time. BIG TIME. No, come on, just a slip-up. Start again from now.

I do feel so guilty that he has to go and find somewhere else to live. I worry about so much. He is in the local homeless night shelter which he was in before. He said the food is excellent (and he said mine was crap so hey, in that department he will be ok) but the only downside is its open from 7.30pm-9.30am and your kicked out inbetween. Sucky, especially since Cambridge library is under refurbishment at the moment. I wonder what he does all day. I can’t see him going back to work yet. So has he gone back to a life of crime? Of shoplifting etc. etc.? He won’t kick his drug habit. I know he won’t. All I know is, at least now I don’t have another heavily addicted vein to feed.

My 20th Birthday

2007-10-01T23:09:00.001+01:00

Its my 20th birthday today. October 1st 1987. Its also my best friend Tom Bs birthday. I still say best friend even though I haven’t seen him in ages, but since secondary school, which was St Bedes, we were great friends. There were four of us; me and him, my best friend Helen who I have known since I was 7 (our mums are best friends, so are our sisters) and Joe Minervino. Our birthdays all fell within one week of each others, and in me and Toms case, on the same day- same time, same hospital, same year. We were never apart. Joe killed himself not long after his 18th birthday, which we never expected and devestated everyone that knew him. Helen… I don’t see her much anymore. She is 5 months pregnant, an alcoholic who is being given a couple of years to live. Everyone knew at school us 3 would turn out as wasters, end up dying… but not Joe. The injustice…. he is the one gone.
I have been depressed all weekend. When I woke up this morning I had nothing but one card and it served to make me feel even worse than I did. Birthdays are for celebrating the birth of someone special. All I have been doing recently is destroying my family and friends… I’ve been doing them no favours. My nanna is 81, and up until recently worked full time, was full of life, vivacious. Now, if she calls and I miss it a couple of times, the next time I answer and its her, I am greeted by hysterical crying because she has been racking her brains about the possibilities as to why I am not picking up, and she assumes the worse, that I am dead. Its horrible to see how I have, and am, ruining such a wonderful lady. She has stuck by me while I have had this ‘problem’ much more than my own Mum or anyone else. And I fear as if she will soon be gone. She has started to give up, and I know it. And I still don’t do anything about it. It’s.Not.Enough.
This morning I had 3 20bags of brown and 2 20bags of white. Now waiting for me at home (I’m at my nans with my twin nieces, who are 5, my sister, mum, nan, grandad) is 3 brown and a white. I’ve been doing far too much white recently. And I’ve just recovered from the worse abcess ever. When it burst, I cannot describe the amount of stuff that came out of it, and for 2 weeks I had 2 gaping holes in my arm, you could see right in. I have killed my veins so I can’t get anything. So I’m missing hits of light and dark (snowballs) all the time. In my experiences, misses that contain crack with brown are so much worse. I’m due about 5 in the next month I’m sure. I’d be rushing home if I could get a hit easily, but I’m losing so many I don’t need to get excited about it.
Everybody I meet is telling me I’m so thin, I’ve lost so much weight. I’m used to being curvy, 10-11stone usually. Now I am 9 stone, so even though I haven’t noticed my family have and all my friends. I’m constantly getting put down. They tell me I suite being curvy better. I used to have bad problems with overeating and purging. Now I don’t have the appetite for anything. I go days without eating. The only calories I get are from special brew. I have noticed things I took for granted; the things your body does, like heal itself are no longer present. Cuts I make in myself take ages to heal and they nearly always 99.9% of the time get infected and I need antibiotics. I am run down, big time.
There is a cake, loads of more food…. I’m expected to stand around all cheerfully with my Mum singing happy birthday at me when today I met her she sent me a text message saying “You look like an absolute tramp. You are so skinny and you look like a hobo. You don’t have that sparkle anymore. You are nothing nowadays” She has been calling me these types of things for ages. Doesn’t she realise the more she says that the more depressed I get? Not blaming her or anything, but it doesn’t help.
I will write more tomorrow hopefully. There is so much to note. Things have been nuts recently but since my family are about (even though they read this journal) I don’t want them to see. I can handle them reading it tomorrow, or the next day etc. but I just want an easy day. My 20th birthday has been horrible. I just wanted to hang myself. I really can’t stand this anymore. My habit is at least £100 a day and I can’t fund it anymore. I can’t cope with the alcohol either. I want to wake up and not be physically dependant on anything. But instead, I wake up to ice cold beers I have set my alarm at 5am to get up for, so I can place them by my bed for when I wake up at 8am. Then I inject a big fat hit of heroin and crack. Then its to finding a way to get money to get more drugs. Please. I’ve had enough.

life is good?

2007-08-20T20:42:00.001+01:00

yes, life is good.
i went through an awful time a few weeks back. i was a witness in court alongside my momma and sis and a few others and it really took it out of me, physically and mentally. it was horrible. i dont know why i bothered. they got off anyway. i say i will never do it again but i couldnt just sit back and let them get away with it, even though they did in the end.
my arm. i have an awful infection from 3 weeks ago. the gear was awfully filthy with terrible black bits in it, and i actually skin popped as opposed to mainline so there was no blood in it. 7 days ago it started to swell, get sore, go boiling hot. my mum being a nurse checked it a few days ago and was so stunned. i went to the doctors and now im on 2 flucloxacillin + 4 penicillin 4 times a day. mum said i hope this teaches you a lesson. does it? yes, for once. i got cut off my methadone ages ago so i have to use, but im down to less than a ten bag a day. i use only when i get ill. for once, i am feeling good. happy even. i desperately want to get onto subutex as methadone still made me feel as if i was on gear… no motivation, lethargic. and i cant go through with cold turkey. i tried last week but lasted 2 days. i just cant do that without detox + rehab, not yet.
good news? I HAVE A FLAT! my own, again. but this time, im not going to fill it with waifs & strays and junkies and drug dealers. ive not told anyone. ive had a couple staying with me for 4 months, who have never paid me a penny in rent… and they are just expecting they are coming with me. are they? NO WAY. i think they know it. but i have done so much for them and i cant do it anymore.
anyway, this place is beautiful. its absolutely massive. huge bedroom, huge living room, huge kitchen, beautiful new bathroom, balcony. ive started to paint the ceilings white. i am having seychelle blue for the front room and lemon fizz for the bedroom. i have no money to get anything else so my worker has helped me apply for a community care grant so i can get a cooker, fridge, bed, sofa, carpets. i feel so positively happy i really do. this is make or break for me. my own little home. and it has the cutest little name too does my street.
im going to start writing again regularly. well, im off to buy more decorating supplies. im doing up most of the interior myself. ill show you pics later.

short snippet to say im alive

2007-08-13T16:18:00.001+01:00

What was all that rubbish about life being good?
i don’t have time to write about whats been going on but i can assure you i have been doing myself no favours. got myself a taste for crack, snowballs to be precise. i am puking up blood and have been for the past few days. ive lost too much weight. my body is in such a mess, it is just so disgusting.

i will write something with some substance, soon. i promise. at the moment i have to go drink.
i am at my nannas house and i suddenly started to cry as my mum, sister and my twin nieces left. for days already i have been walking around in a daze. i just cannot shake off the feeling that i really want to just die. please give me an answer god, what should i do? will things get better? shall i hold out?

i had to laugh as i walked into the conservatory to have a ciggarette… there against the wall between my grandads bookshelf and his bureau was his shotgun. a coincidence? i doubt it.

my arm

2007-02-12T21:30:00.001Z

i managed to use the vein on the back of my arm. for the past few weeks constantly. i thought my god! for once my body is not letting me down, but after the first week it clearly let me know it had. my whole right arm from mid-forearm to shoulder is numb. its terrble, i have been poking it with pins, as in syringes, right in as far as they will go, no feeling. i try to pick up things but i cannot do it. there is literally no feeling there. i can still get the vein, just. i cannot feel as the pin goes in, and it takes a while to find a vein. but after every one, nearly after everyone, i get the most dreadful pins and needle all throughout my hand upwards. i cannot do anything with it. luckily, i have had somebody with me to get my hits because my right arm spasms so much and i need them to hold it still so i can get the hit using my left.
i think something is up with my vein. i did a hit today and didn’t feel it for about 3 minutes, then suddenly it hit. when i put it all in, the pain in my right forearm was so unbelievable, like something was building up in the vein. i think my hit was stuck there (i left the torniquet tight on as i lept up because of the pain and didn’t even think about removing it) and it finally got into the stream.

im in debt, ive lost even more. my body cannot cope with this.

doctor, doctor

2007-01-09T12:15:00.001Z

i sat with the doctor and a student nurse, which always embarrasses me. i just must seem like a textbook case of a nutter. i wasnt really using, not like i did when i didnt have a methadone script, and i told him this. he was very pleased and smiled. drinking? he smiled, seemed pleased. obviously, if you read the below post you will realise i lied and wangled my way through it.
i hadnt seen any of the old group so when i came out the first thing i done was go over and speak to them. i had a lot of money on me so i done 3 beer runs, which ended up costing me altogether £36.11. when id run out of money, nobody got me one back! how about that! i should of remembered all i was to these people was a meal ticket. while we were standing chatting under the bus stop (how hip and cool!) this little short black fellar comes over or rather, swaggers over with little bits of paper in his hand. “Here we are everybody, Dean is back in town man. Dean is back in town. Ya’ll take the number, call us and we will hook ya up, aiiiiight?” I had to laugh. It was if somebody came over leafleting for a concert or band. Oh well, they are leafleting for our best interest in life, I suppose. Still… I nearly pissed myself laughing.

Everybody said how well I looked, and I think I did. Owed to the shit load of slap and the tight figure hugging outfit I’m sure. As soon as I was back standing with everybody, the people I had been ignoring for so long, I actually missed them. Or rather the lifestyle. Not of them, the lifestyle that meant I got to hang around with them. The lifestyle that is heroin. I miss not giving a damn. I miss not giving a damn at all. I miss how good it makes me feel.
Well, I don’t have to miss it for that long. And I ain’t, I’m grabbing my coat and I’m going out trudging for some gear. I’ll never stop this, will I?

oh how us addicts justify our habits!

2007-01-07T20:18:00.001Z

I have to see the doctor tomorrow at the Drug & Alcohol Dependency Unit. I haven’t seen him ever since I actually started a methadone script, so all he has got to go on is what I have told my keyworker whom since I now have a community script (I pick up from a pharmacy), I haven’t seen in bloody ages. And when I do see him he scribbles down a few notes- that are so unimportant. I know they are unimportant because while I do not lie to him, I do not tell him about certain things. Like when he asks about my heroin use i say “oh its fine, loads better. im not using as much” which is technically true, if you compare it to me old £80-120 a day habit. Now I’m only using £40. And when he asks about my drinking “still have a drink when you get up?” “oh no, i just drink normally now,” I reply. Which again, is technically true. I don’t drink when I get up, I drink when I wake up… I put my cans of Special Brew and my Vodka bottle and Grapefruit juice carton beside my bed before I sleep ready for when I wake up. Drink when I get up? Pfffft… I wish. I need 2 cans of brew and 2 triple vodkas before I can even muster half the strength it requires to get up and evade the inevitable vomitting fits for a little while longer. Then, by the time I’ve got up, its about 4.30pm and I go to the chemist then the pub for 5, which is where I drink socially with everyone else who comes in for a pint after work until about 9pm. Hahaha. It makes me giggle how us addicts can justify our habits. Ooooh, did that rhyme? But nah, this is the REAL big doctor. He should be just as easy to convince as his time is precious and he will wave me in and out and not care whether I’m telling the truth, or be able to tell if I am either. Not much I want… a reduction in my methadone- I’m on so much it’s making me go over (overdose) everytime I have a hit of smack that is about £15 worth and mixing with the alcohol, its making me constantly tired. AND I WANT SUGAR FREE METHADONE! I have no fillings and perfect teeth and I want them to stay that way. I was checking out a measure I use for my methadone and I noticed that since I forgot to wash it out, the little bit of methadone left in the bottom of the cup had crystallised into sugar and rock hard. Yum… no wonder so many junkies on methadone have rotten and/or missing teeth. If they don’t give it to me, I’m giving up methadone and going back on heroin full time. If my lifes going to suck, I don’t want to look like pure shit on top of it and have bad tooth pains. I don’t worry about sounding shallow, because I probably lead one of the most shallowest lives around. All I care about is getting money to get dope to please myself so I feel OK. Well, thats not strictly true but I can see how others might think that.
So I’ll post how that goes with the doctor, the bigwig. I’m worried about going to the clinic, passing all my old ‘mates’ and stopping to talk with them. I kind of miss hanging about with them, even though during the time I was sleeping on the streets mostly. Despite the fact we had no family, and we werent even particularly friends, we all understood what it was like to be in our position, and it felt better to hang around with people who knew than people who didn’t know or no one at all.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

2007-01-02T22:22:00.001Z

New Years Eve was as predictable as it always is. It started out in The White Swan, with my sister, Momma, her partner and her mate Jackie. I couldn’t actually bear how boring it was, so at about 10pm I split for a little walk down Mill Road. I went to the store to get some cigarettes and who should pass me but Kearen & one of his mates, spending New Years Eve like any other self-respecting junkie, wandering the streets with a can of Tenants Larger in their hand. I stopped and had a bit of a chat with them. His mate was from Preston, where they both grew up on the same estate and began taking heroin when they were 12. Get to know them, and you will realise they never had a chance. Kearen bless him took my number as he insisted he wanted to take me out. “Umm…. would you like to go to the pictures with me sometime. And for something to eat afterwards?” so I simply replied “are you asking me out on a date?” in quite a sarcastic voice, as I found it quite amusing. I gave him the number, as I know he probably would never ring anyway. No offense, but why would I want to team up with somebody else who has problems just as big as my own? Before I departed, his mate cadjed a £5 off me which I didn’t mind as I had £100 in my pocket anyway.I went back to the pub, realising I had been gone for over an hour, and started sinking Tequila shots. I was having quite a laugh after a while, most at the expense of my sister who was so trollied she began speaking or should I say singing every sentence Soul-Like in a and I quote “in a tribute to James Brown”. Odd. Not odd, must of been all the booze, ya think? Anyway, we went over the road to another Pub, this one that plays Jamaican music. I hate this place. I won’t explain now but we have to go to Court in March because of an ‘incident’ that happened at the White Swan in the summer. Basically, I’m a witness to a good kicking as are my Mum and sister. The people that done it are nasty bits of work, completely vile and unethical. They go to this pub a lot and so do their friends. I KNEW THERE WOULD BE TROUBLE so I told my family not to go. Lo and behold, there was trouble. Actually, we managed to keep the situation quite down. But as the count downs went 5,4,3,2,1 no hugs, joyous shouting… just MY FAMILY fighting. Yes at midnight we had the biggest fight. After a while, I suggested we leave because it was just getting silly. We weren’t having a good time because it had been spoiled by these completely disgusting people.
So next stop, The Standard, which is the boozer I drink in everyday. By this point, it was nearly 1am and I wasn’t that drunk. But, about another 8 tequilas and 3 Sambucas on top of my normal drinks, I was very merry. I started chatting to a few people, but the night was already officially crap and spoilt. There was no salvaging it. And when I looked in my pocket, after buying yet another round I had NO money left. Fuck, £100 gone on booze alone! So, luckily I had my cash card and had to delve into my rent money. Which isn’t so lucky. I got chatting to this one geezer and we were getting on all right I suppose. My mum announced we were going, except, I wanted a kebab which involved me walking in the opposite direction for 20 mins. So I invited this guy back to mine to booze (I didn’t want to drink alone) but first, I made him come with me to get my chicken kebab. Bless him, he had a TWISTED KNEE and was on crutches! Ha! I don’t even want to think how I looked eating my kebab, while staggering down the road. Anyway, we went back to his which was right next to the pub we were just in and it was right at the top of this student building. He looked exactly like that geezer from Teachers, ya know, the lead one, Simon. And he was called Simon. But no, I did NOT sleep with him. No way. Instead, I embarrased myself by getting out of my beautifully sexy red corset that hid every lump and bump and my tight jeans and into a t-shirt and boxer shorts curtosy of him as ya know, one thing I hated about being homeless was sleeping in my clothes. Not comfy, only PJs will do, or softer clothes. So yeah, I just had more and more booze at his. And we didn’t get to sleep because he had cocaine and I kept on insisting for more lines until it all run out. I said I would give him the money, but he refused. One of the more embarrasing things was well a) i didn’t have my make-up so I looked dog-rough and b) when i went into the bathroom i saw some weights on the floor so I thought it would be ‘funny’ to pick them up and burst into his room ‘weight-lifting’ and singing ‘macho man’ by the village people. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I CAN’T COPE! Embarrasing or what?
So I got noooooooooo sleep because of the cocaine and I drunk more booze which made me even worse. The walk home from his is about 5 minutes, but it took me about half an hour. I was so damn ill I couldn’t walk. People were laughing at me because I looked like the typical “WALK OF SHAME” Ya know, somebody who has been a dirty stop-out and has to walk home the next morning in yesterdays clothes, yesterdays make-up and their hair all over the place. And when I went in the store for 4 Special Brew and Ciggies I felt awful as I was 1p short and had loads of people behind me in the queue. They let me off, however. And I should hope so too. My cigarette and booze tab keeps them open, alone I’m sure!
£130 down, a few years knocked off my life (or so it felt) and I was back home. I ended up after the cocaine wore off, sleeping until 11.30pm then getting up and staying awake until 5am… then sleeping again… really messing up my body clock. I was so ill I just hadn’t recovered even by the Tuesday. Didn’t stop me from going out and drinking anyway.
All in all, it was a SHIT start into the New Year. I bet that is setting the tone for how the rest of it is going to be though!

YESTERDAY I SOLD MY TV FOR A £20bag

2007-01-01T05:23:00.002Z

Taken from the blog archives. This was from June 2006. Hopefully, this isn’t going to be the norm for 2007.

when i went to robbies house, chris was sitting there. everytime i walk in and he is there i hear this western stand-off music playing in my head. i really cannot stand chris. he is about 30 and has been in prison for most of his adult life. as much as i hate him, his sentance was really unjust. anyway, chris is so so up himself. he isn’t that intelligent at all so he really shouldnt be. he has his own computer company that he claims is turning over hundreds of thousands yet he lives in a grotty council house and rides a 250cc moped thats from the late 80s… he talks down to everybody and thinks he is the bees knees. he used to really fancy me and we went out on a date. i wasn’t interested, i really wasn’t. especially when (he lived about 2 minutes away from me at the time) one lunchtime i popped in to say hello and he took off his shirt and asked me to pick his spot that was really annoying him. “eeeeeeeeew no way!” i squeal and he continues to reach around his back and crane his neck to see if he can pot it “oh please, its really getting to me. ive been trying to pick it for ages” RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT. goodbye. so yeah, basically, he hates my guts because i turned him down. he really does. he tries to belittle me at every opportunity and because i studied computer programming we have COMPUTER WARS where we try to outwit one another on the topic. he hates it because although he gave robs a computer, he always asks me for help even though chris lives seconds away and me half an hours walk. chris talks down to you as if you were thick as shit, quite simply.
Anyway, bex kept on whispering she wanted to score. i said i would do it for her but i would have to do a 2 hour walk, so 4 hours in total, to get it. we all went out with the dogs to the park and i watched chris and rob as they challenged these 3 little 12 year olds to a football match, and lost miserably. we went back to robs where we sat all night. they were just rolling one joint after the other and chris was deliberately missing me out, as he always does. it didn’t bother me too much as i dont really smoke green. he got a big mirror off the wall and started to make 3 lines of cocaine. when i say lines i mean big thick fuckers like you would never believe. i used to do cocaine all the time when i was 14, 15. i first tried it when i was 12, curtosy of my sister. then i started buying it in big fuck off quantities when i hit 14. now, i hate it. i hate uppers. lines were so big nobody could get theres up in one. becky was the last to do hers and she said “chris, can i split mine with naomi?” he scoffed “you do what you want with it. but if you dont want it, ill have it” i didn’t actually want any. i hate it nowadays. she split it in two and it was far too big so i made her cut it again. then i did it, but only to fuck him off. ha. after that round, they did more and more, but i never asked for it again.
uppers sucka. rob is a puff seller and they had just got a nine bar, so were pretty broke. bex really wanted gear but robbie didn’t. well, he has been on it for 25 years. he wanted it, but was staying away from it. they couldnt afford it so they struck a deal with Nick, my ex-mate who lives next to my Mum. he is putting up some drug dealer in exchange for gear. cunt. the bastard owes me a tenner. i have a bunch of his stuff and he aint fucking getting it until i get that tenner. anyway, they gave nick a tenner and an eigth of puff for a twenty bag. we had to go 4 ways on the gear, we saved some for rachael, so it was pointless. i didnt even feel it. i stayed over that night, as did chris. i dont know why… he lives seconds away. but he hates me being there, he really does. he just likes to see me go before he does. we all slept in the same room, me and chris in chairs.
i had no money so when i woke up the next day, i was clucking. rob n bex were ok as they have their methadone. i was ill as fuck i can tell you. we watched the footie and i was just squirming in my seat. i offered to walk to the supermarket to do their shopping, thats how much i couldnt bare being sat in their house. i couldn’t go back to my flat, as my landlord found pins and wanted to talk and i couldn’t go to my families. so it was rob and bex. at the supermarket, i rang john, this dealer from london who was down for the day. i pleaded with him to tick me a bag of gear. my money run out and he didnt phone back. so back at robs, i rang them and offered to give them my very sexy phone in return for 3 20bags. they said yes. i was so ill by this point i was rejoicing. when i got there, and got picked up by this hunky white driver, turns out they were only giving me 2. deal was i had to pay them back thirty-five quid. no problem, as i was going to work the next day. i got back to robs and of course, i had to split the bag 3 ways. i kept quiet about the second bag but staying again that night, the next day i felt guilty as hell, though i dont know why as they were on 60ml meth each and 4 valium and 3 codeines. we walked into town, and pass my flat so i said i had some gear in there. so i had to split my twenty bag again. i dont even remember having my hit. we had it at 12pm and we woke up at 3pm. crazy! i get pissed off with them because they have tons of money and always take gear off me. that day i had fifty quid and spent it all on gear. i shared it all, minus 3pounds worth of heroin that i needed for the morning to get me through work. that morning, the landlord came round and the two dogs were barking like crazy. i looked like shit and didnt want to answer but he made me open the door and he went nuts because they were there. later on at work i had a go at him because he interferes so much, so much. ill write about him sometime. anyway, that morning, becky tried to get me to give her my gear, even though i had bought them all that the day before. plus they were hungry at 1am so i bought them both a takeaway which cost me twenty-two quid. anyway, i get pissed off because they are on combined five hundred quid a month plus all their drug dealing money,…. and they have never once given me a tiny bit of gear. i bought an eigth of gear once and we had it in a day and a half. they never give me fuck all yet take, take take off me. its annoying.
i had a dirty hit the other day. i was waiting for my dealer to come over and was so desperate i cooked up loads of old hits. you know, ones i had lost. so basically, congealed bloody hits. i do at least ten pound hits at a time as my tolerance is so high, and those hits barely do anything, i need a 20bag hit to get a gouch. anyway, i cooked them up and fuck, i nearly passed out there was so much. but almost instantly, i knew i shouldn’t of done it. a dirty hit was inevitable. it came on about 20mins afterwards and was so fucking awful. the pounding headache, sickness, shakeyness. not nice.
yesterday i was so desperate for gear i rang D and offered to swap my beautiful THREE HUNDRED pound tv with built in dvd and video. he gave me a twenty pound bag for fuck sake. i had to go meet him, he usually comes to the house, and we arranged for him to get the tv later, which he was going to give to his sis. i had to go in the pub where i used to work to do my gear. they had these new motion sensitive lights in the ladies so while i was cooking up, the lights kept going off and i was left in pitch blackness as there are no windows in there. i had to keep going out the cubicle. i was really brazen, going to the sink to get water with my syringe out in full view. i must of been in there for an hour. i did the whole bag in one, and then the wash. there was a massive wash obviously. i then went out and spoke to the landlord about working there part time. he was chatting to me about a huge property he owns. he wants me to take it on, live in it and rent it out to escorts. i used to have my own escort agency with a man who ran a pub. it was great, i manned the phones and looked after the girls. the money man…. it fed my heroin habit nicely, but it fucked me up in the head. i didnt like making money off the girls, so i packed it in. now he is running a brothel above his pub and making a mint. oh well, never mind. i’d rather not be a part of it. i would take that property on but i want to move to bradford asap to get away from it all. i got a call this morning from a bloke wanting to rent his apartment. 250 a month… wicked! im going to do it… i hope. i got a call from my dealer wanting to pick up the tv. he was outside my house so i had to go home asap. it broke my heart watching him put it in a black bag with his mate. they spoke to me and couldnt believe how old i was. his sister is 16, she will of had that tv installed last night and be made up. oh well… i never watched much tv anyway so never mind.
im at my sisters. i did the last of my gear this morning. my track marks are hilarious. they are so friggin obvious. the veins on my hands, you can see them so well because they arent covered in individual punctures…. just long red scar tissue marks. they are like long cut scars. i cant stand cold-turkey. it drives me to the point i nearly kill myself. really, it does.
i love staying with my nieces. they are so beautiful. it breaks me heart to know they are so innocent and oblivious to it all. i just hope they never ever do something like this.
im going to pick up my baby sewing machine from mums so i can get working on clothes. how i think i can work while clucking i dont know! i got told that sammy r is planning to rob me of my laptop, stereo etc. etc. he is such a nasty bastard and i was made aware by a close friend of his that is an absolute fucking nutcase. stood at the old bailey for football hooliganism. i wish i had never met those people. they are the kind of people that upon finding no laptop at my flat, would torture me and make me go pick it up from my mums. i want to leave my flat…. im under a contract so how can i do that? i dont know.
i know im going to go and get more gear, and not just stop now. i actually need to be handcuffed and not allowed to leave. i need something to knock me out…….. completely. oh god its monday. great.

temptation

2006-12-31T23:54:00.001Z

from original blog archive may 06 before i started my methadone script, and was using around £80-£100 a day. this post speaks about when i purchased some methadone off a friend, thinking i would be able to detox on it, as it was my twin nieces birthday and i didn’t want to be using on it, or at their party which fell the day after.

I spent the only money I had yesterday on 2 bags of gear. My last 2 bags of gear, or so I told myself. The day before I caved in at 11am, after having gone just over 24 hours without a hit. I woke up at 9am and was feeling fine. Probably because I didn’t get to bed until 5am and that was because I was smoking a .5 bag, which I started at 2am but couldn’t finish too quickly as I was gouching out, totally beyond my control. I was going to save half for the morning but I thought ‘fuck it- do it all and start your cluck tomorrow’. Funny cluck, because I planned to take 30mil of methadone daily. Decided the best thing to do was wean myself off gear using methadone- though I had no money to buy anymore so I was relying on my scripted mates to donate some here and there. Hopefully. Anyway, I had been staying at my grandparents house as opposed to my own home because… well, I don’t know. I just felt happier there I guess. Today the weather was beautiful. In England, the winter is so long and drawn out. January, February, March… horrible months. Dull, cold… its as if the spring will never get here. But today, like yesterday was gorgeous. I took my methadone and I felt great. I went to meet my CPN (psychiatric nurse) in the street to pick up a letter I am to give to the welfare office to support my claims for benefits. I am still without any income… funny really, as I keep on managing to feed my heroin habit which is damn bloody expensive. I want to cry when I think how much I have spent. Anyway, he told me I looked brighter, and I bloody felt it. It was a combination of the weather (aside from PTSD, opiate dependancy and severe depression I swear I have SAD- seasonal affective disorder) and the fact I had not taken gear. Never mind the fact I had not a penny to my name to buy it so couldn’t anyway… it was still an accomplishment because I always find a way to get money. And I hadn’t. I saw my sister and my nieces (whose birthday it is well, right now actually) and I felt so happy I was bouncing about all over the place. Then I got a call from my ex-workmates asking me to go to the pub where they would buy me a drink. So I went there and that was nice. One of them asked me if I had any cash yet and I said no, so they slipped me £40. Instantly, I nearly recoilled in horror and was ready to push it back in their face but fifteen minutes before that, I kid you not, I had a call on my mobile which I didn’t pick up in time from one of my many dealers. He always calls to let you know he is in town (he drives down from the capital to sell his wares to us filthy scumbags). From the moment I took that money, I couldn’t get away from the pub quick enough.
Cut to here. I rung up, asked for 2b and stood on the corner of my old street where I grew up for 50minutes, when finally the driver comes along and I hop in his motor. Admittedly, he did give me ‘da two fattest bags ni-o-me’ but still, it didn’t compensate for me having to stand on that corner for 50 minutes. It looked like I was either a) touting for business or b) waiting for drugs. It was horrible, and I saw so many people I knew. A good few knew what I was up to which made me burn red with shame. I quickly rushed to my grandparents to down the dinner she had cooked and then pegged it to mine so I could do my gear. It is funny, I was feeling fine. Not ill at all. Well, I wasn’t physically 100% understandably, but because I felt more positive than I had done in a long while, I didn’t feel the sickness. But as soon as I got that money, kaboom, my guts started going and on came that clucking feeling. Crazy. I often wonder how much of it is psychological.
Tomorrow… tomorrow… tomorrow. What have I got. Lots of things. Got to think of how I can get some money, because I need more gear. I can’t be sick at my babies birthday party, can I? Thats just not on. And I must go put in my welfare claims. I can’t even do it when I’m on gear, so if I’m clucking… god forbid!
This first post is a mess. I wanted to present my life in a really wonderfully written style like bella de jour at blogspot. Then it dawned on me, you’re not a semi-high class hooker, you’re a junkie. An 18 year old junkie who is going nowhere, worryingly and particularly fast. So yes, welcome to my junkylife blog. Here, if you remember, you will be able to read about what it is like to be a teen hooked on gear. God, why would anybody want to. The worlds depressing enough. Christ, I am babbling. I know its my blog but I don’t want to put potential readers to sleep. Talking of sleep, I’m going to do a bit more gear, which means no sleep for me, just catnaps here and there. In between gouches. I hate heroin. Best piece of advice I could give to anybody: don’t touch gear. I used to sparkle. Now… now… nothing. Haha. Right, I’m actually signing off now. Finish my gear and watching a streetcar named desire. I’ve run out of smokes. Bugger.

iraq tyrant executed

2006-12-31T20:25:00.000Z

I didn’t turn on the news today or anything, infact, I stayed swiftly away. But 3 of my friends called to tell me that S. Hussein had been executed. It is still the holidays, I barely have anything to do apart from catch up on my clothing orders, so I have been browsing my favourite blogs, checking them out and seeing how things are treating people. Unsuprisingly, the former Iraqi Dictators execution seems to be the topic on the majorities list. My Momma rang me this morning and told me what she had seen on the news; him being led to the gallows by men in balaclavas. Me and my Mum seldom agree on anything; but today was different. She begun to tell me how she couldn’t bear, despite what he had done, to see a life being snuffed out on order. And you know what- me neither.The crimes he committed along with the other people in power were absolutely attrocious. I simply cannot comprehend how somebody obviously intelligent can have such a warped mind and believe that he (especially being religious and thus believing in the sanctity of life) has the power to choose who lives and who dies. And we will never find out. I have read reports by journalists, protesting against people who say the death penalty is barbaric- one of the report titles in the Daily Mail English Newspaper said ‘Killing Masses of People Is OK, Hanging A Tyrant Is Not’
I never once thought this for a moment, neither does anyone else saying his execution is wrong either, I am sure. It just seems rediculous- whether you have killed one person or a million- to punish killing, the ultimate crime against humanity, by killing the guilty party. Nobody has the right to end somebodies life, despite what they have done. Surely, this is what all murder trials try to prove, to prevent; they occur to prevent further people repeating such dreadful actions.
Surely, living in captivity till death is much more of a punishment than being killed prematurely? You will have many more days to reflect on your crime and being deprived of such a basic human right; freedom.
Capital Punishment is such a backward thing; which makes me not only sick to my stomach but shocked that America endorse it and use it in many state. It is just so hypocritical. Especially considering Bush is a Christian and Murder is one of the major sins depicted in the Ten Commandments. I know it was not America who ordered his death but they could of spoke out against it but of course they wouldn’t of since the supposedly free-thinking, free nation uses it. I am so pleased my country does not use it and it was abolished over 50 years ago. Is America any better than Iraq? I do not think so. America also puts to death people on a huge scale, as did Saddam. Not by his own hand, but under his rule. Just like America. God bless America? Yeah, right? A great nation? I don’t think so? It worries me that more Americans don’t campaign against the Death Penalty. What is their mentality exactly? It makes me feel sick to think of. They are no better than all the tyrants in history if they think its ok to kill people on demand.
A lot of people are writing in blogs rejoicing words about his execution. The same in papers. The news. The same is being spoken to friends, family, strangers. Really, shouldn’t we be thinking about changing society and the world so things like this do not occur again? Shouldn’t we be talking about how to make the world a better place so events like this are a thing of the past? Yeah, we should. But who is going to actually do it? Ask yourself.

where it all began...

2006-12-29T22:29:00.001Z

It seems like it happened about a hundred years ago. That is how much my life has changed. But in fact, it has barely been a couple of years. I went to Laila’s house and sat on her bedroom floor- it was a small room- just enough space for a single bed and a desk at the other end by the only window. When you entered the room, you had to stand straight up against the wall to your left so the door could close. You really had to inhale if you were large or it would not be able to close- that was how small it was. Cosy, is the polite word us English would give it.
Anyway, I sat on the floor while she sat on her bed fashioning a foil tube around a biro pen. At her desk there was a computer chair but it was covered in clothes and books which I didn’t want to move in order to sit there. I observed her as she done it, for future reference.
“There” she said, handing me the tube, “Now,”
She ripped off a bit of foil, I would say about 8 inches by 8 inches and handed it to me
“Burn it off, just like me. It is bad to smoke if off foil. You have to try and get most of the bad chemicals off it first. Otherwise you might get pleurisy , so I’ve heard,”
I watched as she took the piece of foil in one hand, and with her lighter, flicked the ignition and drove the flame up and down the width and length. To get rid of the chemicals, so she said. But that was the last thing on my mind.
I had wanted to try heroin since I was about 12. I know that might sound crazy, especially when I tell you this next bit. When I was 9 my cousin Jimmy came to stay with us from Bradford to get off heroin. He had bin on it since he was 13 (he is now 30, but at the time was 24) and my fathers sister, my aunt, decided the best thing was to get him away from Bradford. So he came to stay with us. It worked, I suppose, for a while. Indeed, for the whole 9 months he was with us he never used. While he was here he used to speak to me and warn me off it. I think he sensed the same attitude in me that he had.
“Never try heroin,” he would warn, “You are so strong, and everyone tells you that. But nobody is stronger than heroin. It feels beautiful. When you take it, you feel like God himself has wrapped you up in cotton wool and nothing else matters. But soon after, that feeling goes. And you need it just to feel yourself. Except, you never feel yourself. It fools you into thinking it is good for you, and you need it, and you can’t live without it. It’s awful,”
I heard that and I thought maybe I should try it. From the age of twelve I had done cocaine, mushrooms, cannabis, speed, LSD… and none of them felt good to me. None of them were my drugs. None of them. So after my Dad had committed suicide, after having to spend years in therapy to get rid of the image of his decomposed, maggot-eaten corpse that lay in his flat for 2 weeks in the brutally hot summer of 2001, I teamed up with one of the girls I met at the YPPS. That being the ‘Young Persons Psychiatric Service’. I met her in Group Therapy. There was no obvious connection, we didn’t even talk. Though in the group, I was gently coaxed into talking about why I was dependant on alcohol and why I felt the need to take other drugs. When we left, after an hour, I was happily listening to my music when I felt a persons presence. I turned and it was her, Laila, just getting off her bike. We exchanged a hello, how did the group feel, where do you live? Turned out, we lived but a few minutes from each other. Five at the most. She didn’t take long, about a minute before she said “Look, I was wondering, do you know where you could get some cocaine?”. Of course I did but I told her how I would feel guilty, how we were at therapy together to try and get better. But anyway, we ended up going to the pub where I drank myself stupid and she didn’t. That was the beginning of our friendship. A very destructive one. A couple of months later we got heroin. Cut to the bedroom. She had been taking it for a couple of weeks on top of me, so unbeknown to her at the time, she was already on the road to addiction. Another couple of days and she could not live without it.
After the minor preparations were complete, she got up and picked up something from the top of the wardrobe, and began fiddling with it. “Here, hold it out carefully. Make a trench,”.
“What?” I replied, clueless,
“Give it here, I’ll do it,” she sighed, annoyed. Annoyed because she was desperate to take hers, I know now. I watched as she made a fold on the side of the foil and curved the two edges either side to indeed, make a trench. “Now,” she said sternly, “Hold it bloody bloody still,”. And I did. I held it as she tipped on these grains of light brown powder. She picked my tube up from where I had left it on the floor and placed it carefully between my lips. I took my lighter and got ready for her instructions.
“Light the flame and carefully put it under the powder. It will burn fast so make sure it’s a bit away. Tilt the foil away so it can run and you can chase the smoke more easily. Remember, that’s what you have to do to take it; you have to inhale the smoke through that tube. Otherwise, it won’t work,”
I sort of hesitated so without even having to ask, especially since I had the tube in my mouth still, which was making saliva drip down my chin, she took her foil and showed me how to do it. I felt reassured as it was so simple. So I positioned the tube over the grains, lit the lighter and kept it a safe distance away and put it under the powder. I caught a bit of it but when she shrieked I let the flame go out and pulled back to look at what I had done. Indeed there was a few stray bits of smoke going up but I had got as much as a first-timer could and I knew this, because as I inhaled, as was told, I could feel it going down and could certainly taste it.
“OH MY GOD!” Laila screamed jumping on her bed, “Look at the fucking wastage Naomi, Look at the fucking wastage!”
Quickly she put her tube in her mouth and followed the smoke rising in the air, trying desperately to suck it in so the sacred swirls didn’t just disappear into thin air.
“For Gods Sake!” she spat at me, making me feel really bad.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I know you said it would burn fast but I didn’t realise like that, with so much smoke,”
“But I told you!”
“I know, Laila. I won’t do it again, it was my first time, I’m sorry,”
“But…” she bellowed

“I’m sorry!” I screamed back, furious that she was getting so uptight. It was my money so she didn’t lose anything, so I didn’t understand her problem.

Believe me I was sorry. Very bloody sorry.

london 2 brighton

2006-12-06T23:07:00.001Z

Yesterday was my Nannas birthday. It was lovely, really. She was 81 and all throughout the day, members of the family came trickling through the house with gifts. It felt strange in a way. Probably because this is the first ‘family thing’ that I have been involved in for a long time, after all, I was cast out due to my habit. But the day was a bit of a ‘welcome back to the family…. for now’. Many comments were made to me about “Isn’t it nice to be back. Carry on doing well and you will never ever be treated like you were again,” So not said without exercising some caution, and quite rightly so. I obviously never told them that actually, I have slipped up awfully and have spent over £420 on heroin this past 2 weeks. I know this exact figure because I checked it on my bank statements online, just now. Awful. Anyway, I stumbled out of bed yesterday and greeted my Nanna in the kitchen with some beautiful Fair Trade Pink Pastel Roses and a bottle of Cherry Brandy. My Nanna loves a tipple, or two, or ten.
Later on that day, I had to go out and meet Dylan which upset me a bit because just as I left my Nannas my twin nieces came over. I wanted to see them for a lot longer but I only had enough time to have a quick chat, a kiss & a cuddle. Anyway, I went to see him. I felt he was being really odd with me, and I do not blame him. At 10:22pm Monday he sent me this text; “Ok its official. I didn’t want it 2 happen but it has & i dont know what 2 do i just love you, u mad crazy girl. u drive me mad, i cant stop thinking about u, fuck & bollox, what r we going 2 do x” So, since I did not reply, he obviously did not know how I would take it, so was a bit unsure. Even I don’t know how to take it, yet. We sat in the pub for a while, but as it was my Nannas birthday I wanted to get home and see her again, so he left early. Before I was about to leave my sister rang and asked where I was. When I said pub she immediately said she wanted to come out and I suggested we go see London To Brighton. So 20 minutes later she was sitting in the pub with me at 6.30pm and we were downing vodka & oranges which was very bad for me as I hadn’t had one thing to eat and had been drinking since 3ish. The cinema we saw the movie is actually above a pub, a really cheap Wetherspoons. We had a rediculous amount of booze that by the time it came to the movie, we were so messed. We ended up getting popcorn and fanta and 6 beers, which we happily devoured. My sister insisted on going to the toilet halfway through and I realised she was gone a real long time. When I exited to go find her, I found her behind the popcorn counter taking some beers out the fridges as the stand was unattended. She did this purely because she was drunk, god knows why of course. I quickly ushered her back. It was a wicked film. I agree when they say its the best in a long time. The end kind of disappointed me, if you see it you will understand what I mean.
I did a stupid thing on the way back. I got a call from the boys from London, to say they were in town. They said they would meet me on the way back from the movie so I got out £79 and got 4 bags. I did this because I was drunk. Today, I realised I didn’t even need them. I had a tiny hit this morning but it was horrible. I passed out in the bathroom and woke up about 40 minutes later… too stong for me. Their gear changes all the time and its impossible to estimate the strength, and when your veins are tough like mine to get, you dont have the choice to “do a bit, if it isnt good enough do another bit”. The stupid thing wasn’t buying it, moreso buying it infront of my sister. I told her that it was for Laila and she hardly believed me. Luckily, she has not told my family yet. If she does, I am up shit creek.

something i wrote

2006-12-04T12:52:00.001Z

from a lined piece of paper i wrote on while having a drink in the park on friday. or was it thursday?

Been a bit of a silly sausage. Only the other week I was sitting in a meeting with my key worker at the DDU (Drug Dependency Unit), telling him how happy I was and proud of myself for keeping off heroin for the longest possible time in my life. Which as you know, is a pitiful small amount of weeks, so embarrassing it does not even nearly reach four. Four. Four? Pathetic I know but it is the best I can do. As I left, I handed over a sample tube of my lukewarm piss and was given a firm handshake and ’Congratulations- you look so well, keep up the good work!’.
I mostly owe it to them, actually. They decided after a few months, to put me on a community script. This means I pick my methadone up from a chemist and do not have to go to the DDU Monday to Friday between 8.30am and 12.45pm like everyone else. A few of the others there gave me a bit of stick when they found out. I do not blame them. Most have been going for years, some about ten or fifteen and they still have to go daily, even though they beg for a community script. And then I join up and after a few months I get handed a community script I didn’t even ask for!
So how do I owe it to them? Well, when I had to go everyday, I would set off around 12.15pm and go in and down my methadone. Then, as I would come out I would see everybody else that had just been in there congregating at the bus stop nearby having a drink. I befriended quite a few people and as a result, I started to sit there with them everyday for hours drinking and chatting. And of course, you would get somebody shout out “anybody want to go halves on a bag with me?” and at £5 for half a bag, it wasn’t that great a loss. I should know, I did this almost everyday. It was so easy to do. The staff at the unit were not dumb, and knew I was hanging about with the others, who lets face it, were in most cases at least about 10-20 years older than me. They decided that I would recover better if I was away from other junkies and alcoholics. And you know what? They were actually right. It is so much easier to stay away from something when your nose is not rubbed into it.
But me being a silly sausage, I got back in touch with the girl who first gave me heroin. Or rather, she got in touch with me, to borrow moneny. I decided to get a bag with her. We went into the pub and I bought us a couple of drinks and while I downed my pint she went in to toilets to do her hit. The hilarious thing about the toilets was, the lights were on a scensor, so you really had to rush with your hit if you wanted. She came back after her £10 hit and saw me borrow £20 off a mate as I had no money left after buying our drinks. She say there and began to whine and get tearful for another £10. I explained I really couldn’t do it because of my need to buy alcohol and pay my rent. However, I am a soft touch and she threatened to leave so I got her another bag. It was horrible, really. When I went to do mine, it took me about 2 hours and by the time I found a vein, the plunger had bust. You just couldn’t push it down without dislodging the pin. If you keep on pushing and pulling back the plunger chances are it will stiffen up and fail to expel the air/contents. It just slides upwards. That was a bummer. A waste of £10, too.
This didn’t particularly make me want to do heroin again. I was unfazed by the experience. So, the next day, I did not go near it. But by the next I got a call from the dealer Joe, who drives up from somewhere in East London with bags of crack and heroin. £20 each or two for £35, three for £50. What a deal! Since they would meet me merely 3 minutes from my home, I thought, ’Why not?’ and went and met them. But instead of getting a twenty, I thought I would get 3. And these are good bags, about point 5. I had to see my sister that night and while I was sitting drinking a crate of beers with her, they were burning into my skin from the pocket in my jeans. I couldn’t wait to get back to mine where I tried to get a hit. 40 minutes or so later and BINGO. It knocked me out straight away. Maybe it wasn’t wise to do over half in a pin when I hadn’t used for long. I didn’t wake up until gone 5am, having done it at midnight. God I felt rough when I did.
Winter depresses me. It is just so… so…. Long. Cold and dark, drags on far too long. I have been in a lot during the days, then going to the pub about 5pm until kicking out time. When I am at home, I listen to music. Like Lou Reed, for example. And watch films like Trainspotting and Sid & Nancy and read books like Christianne H and Junk. Heroin is just so romanticised. I found myself, while consuming whatever piece of media, drooling and getting almost rushes of sexual excitement. From somebody that has not had an orgasm in over a year, I find it amazing I still can get a feeling like that. Even if it is when I am fantasising about heroin. So, when you are bored, what do you do?
TAKE HEROIN OF COURSE! So, I went and got some more. Took it, had to do it in my groin which was a big mistake. After a few hits in the same spot it started to really ache and my thigh swelled and hurt when touched. BACK TO SMOKING. Which is never as good, but smoking it the other day, I did vomit. Just like I used to vomit when I first took it. God, that was so good. You will never get that first rush back, but little bits of it is just as good. It is the closest you are going to get.
I am laying off it for a while. Even though I have £180 in my pocket. Off to the pub I think. Then to score after, I suppose. Silly sausage that I am.
The past few days have been particularly bad. Physically, that is. I had to stay at my Nans house because for the past couple of weeks my old condition returned. Ever since around two weeks into my methadone script, I started to get really bad heart palpitations, dizzy spells and fainting. I must say, I have been on it for months now and at first I just put it down to being physically addicted to alcohol. Turns out its not. According to my doctor, it has just caused a minor problem- arrhythmias. Luckily my Mum is a nurse and is therefore 100% clued-up when it comes to medical terminology. Hang on, am I that lucky? I strolled away thinking, “ECG? Maybe that is the name for a swanky new blood pressure monitor,”. Errr, no. She tells me what it is and explains they wouldn’t waste their time doing one if they were not pretty concerned. Heart problems scare me; my aunt had a heart attack at 34, her sister has angina, my Dad had heart disease, my grandad has had a triple bypass. I just know I am going to die of heart disease at an early age due to my excessive smoking and drinking. If heroin doesn’t kill me first. Or something else attributed to my disgracefully wreckless behaviour. I have been vomiting all day every day for the past four. Yesterday I had an awful attack and thought ‘I feel a bit weak’. Before I knew it I was waking up with my cheek stinging like hell with my Nan standing over me, trying to haul me up. My heart beat seamed to slow down and I had very slow, dull, painful beats in my chest, and it hurt (maybe the pain is from panic?). I suddenly felt weak and dizzy and I just fainted. Not for long- about 3 minutes? Nan heard my fat ass hit the floor from 3 rooms away. I DON’T LIKE THIS. I was up until 5.16am this morning, as my chest meant I couldn’t sleep. I just couldn’t. It is probably the methadone, alcohol and heroin combined that is doing me no favours. Ha- No Shit!
and next week I have to go for a appointment at the cardiology department for outpatients, which includes an ECG

vol 2 post 1

2006-10-30T10:33:00.001Z

I abandoned this blog for a while because I got sick and tired of all the responses I was recieving. I know that if you record your life and publish it for the whole world to see, you should expect to recieve replies, otherwise, why would you do it? I am by far too sensitive and as pathetic as it may sound, the amount of venom written about me by people living thousands of miles away who I will never ever meet or never ever know, actually really hurt. Nobody at 18 should be a heroin addict whose veins collapsed years ago, resulting in them having nowhere else to inject but in their groin or neck. Thats why I started this junkylife.com diary… I wanted to share what it was like to be a heroin addict. You see them portrayed in the media, and often not as true-to-form either. When I began heroin at 13, I never thought for a minute that I might have to inject in my groin resulting in Deep Vein Thrombosis or absesses and ulcers which could quite easily result in gangrene and the eventual amputation of my legs. Where was that in Trainspotting or Sid & Nancy, eh?
I thought if the documentation of my daily life would make just one person, whatever the age, reconsider choosing or using drugs then christ, it wasn’t so vain and egotistical after all! Not only that, writing is my therapy. I can never verbally speak about my feelings so writing is the perfect way to release some of the emotions bottling up. Oh yeah, and also, my heroin and alcohol addiction means most things are just a blur and I tend to forget them after a day or so. It is not all bad, I can have some good times and I want to be able to look back on them in a few years (assuming i am still here) and feel nostalgic. Or even better, I will be clean and the diary from my past will serve as a stark reminder of a time that seems not too disimilar from most peoples idea of hell.
I deleted my posts, which at times were novel length.
Not a lot has changed since I last posted, except maybe now I am on a methadone script. THANK GOD! Three months I have been drinking 75ml of methadone a day. Every day before 12:45, bar Sat & Sun I had to walk to the DDU (Drug Dependancy Unit, Cambridge) and queue up with hundeds of other junkies outside a tiny bullet-proof post office style window which kept the pharmacy staff and doctors in, and us out (our prescriptions are a major currency… everybody sells and swaps their methadone, benzos, amps outside like we were back in the schoolyard dealing with the contents of our packed lunches). We got our medication passed under the hatch. I had a major problem everyday… I would be shaking from alcohol withdrawel and would constantly spill my methadone out of the flimsy plastic measure. In the end, they had to go buy some drinking straws from the Spar Shop next door and I had to suck the disgustingly sickly-sweet sugary mixture through one.
The reason people have to go everday is because the staff have to carefully monitor you to make sure you don’t sell your meds or overdose or something like that. Some people I know have been going everday for 15 years. Brilliantly, after just 3 months I got told I could pick mine up from any chemistl THANK FUCK! People could not stand it but I do not care, I hated going everday and bumping into everyone. All I ended up doing was drinking with them all day long and taking loads of smack.
Surprisingly, I don’t do heroin THAT much anymore. I suppose its a combination of the fact I have NO MONEY and the methadone takes away any withdrawals. Scary thing is, I am moving into my new place today and I will be extremely far away from any friends or family- not that either of them speak to me, like! That means I will probably start doing heroin all day every day just like before. I hope not. Hang on, what am I saying… I love it. As much as I know I fucked up my life big time by taking heroin, I don’t hate it. Not one bit. I’m still just as in love with it as I was when I first tried it.