Lovely start to the morning

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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?

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.