Baby is still in, scan later today though!

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

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

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

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*

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?

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.

a quick fleeting visit

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

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

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.