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.