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.

Response to Gledwood

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.

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

rehab! rehab! rehab!

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

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.

im a man of means by no means

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.

doctor, doctor

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?

temptation

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.

where it all began...

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.