april 21st

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...

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

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

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

"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.

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'

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.