Hi all,  I don’t have much to say other than whatever your plans are make sure you have a great christmas and whatever you get up to, keep safe.  I’m looking forward to a relaxed day with as little relo contact as possible( lovely people for an hour or so)  My mother in law should be posted to Iraq for her interrogaton skills !!!!

No matter who you decide to spend the day with, even if your by yourself make the day nice for yourselves.  Sounds corny but I just hate to see anyone sad at xmas

Happy holiday

Vxxxx

Hi all.  Iv’e been watching autopsies again.  Just a quick warning to those of you who shoot pills of any kind.

Pills are loaded with layers of fillers around the medicinal content.  They are designed to be broken down by the enzymes in the gut.  The body passes the fillers as urine and there is no harm done.

HOWEVER , if you shoot the suff into the bloodstream there is nothing to break down the fillers, and they end up depositing into cells inside the lungs.  As a result the lungs fill with clots and a slow and painful death occurs.

Heroin on it’s own is the lesser of all evils as far as it being a reasonably natural substance(but we all know that, it’s why we love it) .  Do die peaceully of an overdose of hammer is not a bad way to go.  If it’s going to happen then so be it,  but to go to all that hard work that comes with the business of being a junkie,  all those years of effort, only to suffocate from a lung full of liver sized blood clots!!!!  Hmmmm I know I’d feel short changed.

To change the topic,  There seems to be a lot of discussion regarding  the 12 steps and the guilt & bible bashing that goes with it.  Let’s make up our own 12 steps for fun and see what we come up with.  Could be an interesting experiment, so come on everyone, get your thinking caps on and see what we come up with

Have a good day

V

A previous rant of mine was focussed on the twelve steps and how it’s not for everyone. I was watching an American Doco called “28 days in rehab”. It pooled a bunch of substance abusers in a group house with some unnatractive christian extremists as counsellors and the brainwashing began.

I witnessed no positive reinforcement whatsoever..It was hideous what they were doing to these poor souls. Allow me set the scene …..

Horrible uninviting off white old house with tacky nature posters on the wall and an artificial palm in the corner. Cruddy mismatched chairs arranged in a perfect circle(cultish) for the group sessions. They spoke of sponsors and rules and god blah blah blah. A former crackhead was doing really well until he admited that he missed crack, and in all honesty it would be easier to just go back to using. Not that he intended to.

The entire group rose to their feet and began to scream abuse at him. I mean really derogatory and nasty stuff. Imagine a pack of junkies and alchoes in your face calling you a failure and soforth. Not very positive. After the guy begs for forgiveness and gets back to a standing position the group starts hugging him and calling him brother. Everyone has a good hard pray and asks for help for this guy and like magic, all is love again. All due to God apparrently. I think if there really was a god, we wouldn’t need rehab in the first place because the world would be a picture bloody perfect place and we’d all be high on life !!!

All the therapists have psychology degrees etc. as a result of their own substance abuse, and introduce themselves as Dr. Fuckwit 25 years in recovery. Now call me cocky but I’m not” four years in recovery ” I’m four years over it. As are many of you. Does that mean that according to these theories when im ninety i’ll be sixty years in recovery??? Pathetic isn’t it. It’s no wonder peolpe don’t get well when the choice is drugs or God. I can’t imagine God being half as much fun as illicit drugs…. Hmmm a shot of smack or a verse from genisis ? I Can’t decide. Yeah right.

I would really like to hear about some firsthand rehab stories where a similar philosophy is used and why it never worked for you personally.

This issue is a big bee in my bonnet as I’m sure it is for many others.

Bye Now

Hello

It’s been a while but I’ve been in the middle of a career change.Hence the inspiration for this entry.  As the time approached to apply for uni (nursing degree) I realised that this was not going to be a possibility career wise because of a chronic back condition, and that I had to move quickly and find another option.  I had no idea what to do because I was very set on Nursing and loathed the idea of servicing the regular Joe public in any way.  However I took a retail/sales position for our “premier” department store as a matter of convenience and the human behaviour I have encountered in dealing with these snooty, self serving arseholes has left me gobsmacked( yes folks, me, lost for words).  This is no doubt the straightest job I’ve ever had. I’ve been a business owner,  an escort, a madame, a dominatrix , a volunteer helper with street kids, drug addicts , really fucked up cases.  I’ve used drugs and alcohol both moderately and excessively, I’ve met every legend, deadshit and master manipulator in existence….Or so I thought until I entered the world of the “NORMAL PEOPLE”. And not just the normies,  normies with money and endless streams of credit in gleaming gold and platinum.

Here we are thinking how selfish and ego centric we are as addicts but the fact is, addiction of any kind is an illness and a symptom of the illness is the sefishness.  These people(customers) are not ill.  They are just rude and demanding with nothing more on their mind at anytime other than their own self gratification. Example, I’m in the middle of processing a transaction with a counter seven deep of impatient stingey people bickering over 10% of the price of a 50 dollar item. It was originally about 150, so even without the 10% extra, it’s still a winner for any of us who love designer clothes but balk at the ludicrous pricetags. But alas, a huge scene was created and she saved a further three fifty and reported me for not doing the full ten percent.  This is what I am faced with most days depending on where I’m posted in the store. In one sense they irritate the shit out of me with their pompous right wing attitudes but on the other hand I cannot help but cast pity upon them because they have absolutely no idea of what a genuine crisis point is.

I’m glad I spent time as a doper and in the company of dopers . I would hate to think I could ever be like my customers. And I’m glad I can share my views on life with other misfits who chose junk for whatever reason, whether using currently or not we are all the same in the way that we have seen the worst possible shit that life can dish out yet we manage to in a lot of cases get over it or get a handle on it at least.

I think we’re very courageous and fearless(but sometimes very stupid) people.  Whether getting off it  for good, or  going to strange dark and dangerous places where mortals fear to tread  just to get on and keep the habit alive.  A junky is a survivor.

Those are my thoughts and thanks for listening

I was in a relationship with an alcoholic for a year or so back in 1999. I didn’t realise he was an alcoholic otherwise I would have run a mile. I find alcoholics the most hideous creatures. They are sly dogs too. At least when you decide to go junk, there’s no pretense. You know what you’re about to do is probably the dumbest thing you will ever do, we all know what goes with it and before too long the junk takes hold, the bills pile up, you lose your job etc. Some of us wake up and get over it, some will not be so fortunate. The “functioning” alcoholic is a nasty vicious and vile piece of work, and can get away with it for years. Nice guy at work, on the local soccer committee etc. Always keeping up the good citezen act.
He seemed like a decent individual, this pisses me off more than anything because I honestly thought I’d learned to judge a little better than that. I guess he made me feel good about myself at a time which was filled with darkness and I didn’t see the underlying motive. Someone to pay his bills and do his housework, someone to drag down with him basically.

He’d walk in everyday after work drinking a beer. Didn’t seem like much at the time but then I relised he was at the pub even during his morning tea break to get a beer down his guts. And lunchtime, and before he got home. Beer and pokies. I earned my own money so I didn’t really discuss finances. I arrived home one friday after a killer week to no gas, no electricity and a repo notice that his car had been impounded. Now the alarm bells started to ring.

I fronted him about it and that’s when things turned nasty. He threw my heroin use in my face when I’d told him in strictest confidence.For monnths he would rant for hours in my face until I finally snapped one day and grabbed the closest thing I could reached and pulverised him. Blow after blow swinging blindly. I don’t really remember the first minute of it, I came to when he kept asking me to kill him. He really was a fucked up person, and I can’t beleive how I let him destroy my spirit.. Man he was so abusive!!! He would sing the old alcohol is legal tune. I know now he was terribly threatened by my strong will and felt he had to beat me down.And for a while it worked.
Anyway, after repeatedly telling myself today was the day I would leave, I would look around at the overwhelming shitfight he called a house and crawl into bed in denial. I was plummetting into a deep depression so guess what I did, I scored and I shot up right there in his loungeroom. I put the cap on, but I left everything where I used it. Kind of like when a cat shits on the bed! I hadn’t used in around eighteen months so I’m bloody lucky I didn’t o.d. I thought fuck you! you want to see junkie? I’ll show you junkie!
The night prior to, I accidently ashed in his freshly opened beer. I went to throw it away and he leapt of the chair like I was about to unplug his life support system, begging me not to waste it. I spat in it , left in on the counter to go warm and low and behold, when I woke the next day it was empty.

The next day when he went to work, I shovelled all of my material things, including items of furniture I’d bought but couldn’t take with me. No way was he getting anything more of mine. He had my dignity and self respect, he wasn’t getting the dining suite:) I accidently on purpose burned his entire porn collection, videos and mags, thousands of them. His clothes seemed to get caught up among my things so they got torched as well.
I remember playing a black sabbath tune as I doused the pile of history in fuel, and with a barbecue lighter and one hell of a whoof!I said goodbye to probably the worst part of my life. Plumes of coloured smoke started heading for the sky and it was soooooooooooo liberating. I was free of him and any memory of my time spent with such an evil individual. I remember the 2km walk to the station. I was skipping and giggling like a happy child and for the first time in a long time I felt like one too.I got my closure. It wasn’t long before the sirens began to scream, but there was nothing left of the pile of shit in the backyard which was my life for a while. My only regret is that I didn’t get to see the expression on his pissed out mug. He probably didn’t even notice till the next morning which would have made it piss funny. I could see the smoke for 2kms away until the train crept toward the city. Still makes me giggle.

Thanks for listening

V

I have noticed that anyone who has stopped using(or have they) as a result of the twelve step programme seem to think it’s the only way you are truly considered clean.

I’d like to say Bullshit. There is no right or wrong way to get off dope. It is an individual thing that differs greatly from one addict to the next. It’s all a matter of trying different things until you find what suits you. Not everyone needs rehab,and the 12 steps certainly doesn’t work for everyone. To say that your always an addict whether you use or not is absolutely ridiculous.

People do get over dope, some of us are stronger than others, some of us are smarter than others. But at the end of the day if whatever your chosen method is working for you, stick to it. No matter how many experts try to tell you it’s not the right way.And if at first you don’t succeed(let’s face it, who succeeds first go?)keep at it . Most of us work long and hard at developing these nasty habits. They’re not going to be over in a week!
Thanks for listening & good luck.
V

Hi all

Today I had a realization! I can’t beleive it didn’t occur to me before this! Talk about overlooking the obvious.

I begin my degree in nursing 2007, which means I need to start thinking about which area to specialise in. I’ve always thought of myself as a mothercare nurse, or midwife. I am not into trauma or theatre in the least. I cannot stand the sight of blood and although I’ve done palliative care(the Very last weeks of life) and death in aged care doesn’t upset me,I could not deal with working with dying kids or greiving parents.I’ve worked in demetia and psyche facilities for 3 years and was the carer of a quadriplegic full time for a year.(that was intense) rewarding but I won’t be going back there.
I’ve oft beaten myself up emotionly for the years of my life I’ll never get back. Until today I had no idea how valuable my time in the adult industry and the drug culture has been. I just didn’t see the positives until now. There are many times I have picked up on medications not working or the need for medications to be reassessed. I have a clear undestanding of many types of mental conditions due to drug misuse. psychosis for example, which is often misdiagnosed in dementia patients. I haven’t had formal training yet often i tune into things that my superiors miss. When asked how I aquired my knowledge, I say it was from looking after a mentally ill family member with a drug addiction. Not entirely untrue. I’ve been depressed, bi-polar and damn near psychotic at different stages of my life, moreso as the result of years of mental and emotional torture from my Father , the drugs were only ever a pain remedy. I’ve abused every mind altering substance I can think of , I’ve seen many dear freinds lowered into the ground and I’ve encountered just about every personality type ever known. Some beautiful throughout,others sheer, blackhearted evil and rotten to the core. I’ve seen mothers put their daughters to work in parlours which they’ve owned. Three in total which is pretty high in the odds department. I’ve seen junkie parents give their own kids hammer on their 18th birthday and treat it like a right of passage.(sickening) I’ve met kids who are the parents in the relationship from age three and know if Mum goes blue to reach and dial 000 and say it’s and overdose. That’s just getting started.

What better place to put my recovery skills into action. Not in a reformed way, obviously no-one will ever know just how I got my experience but in a positive non textbook way. I HATE textbook experts. The only way to help people on drugs get off drugs is if you’ve lived it or lived closely associated withit.

I had kept all my journals until just before I met my husband. I didn’t feel as though I needed them anymore. I’d said what needed to be said(thousands and thousands) of pages of ups downs and sideways. I can’t think that there would be anything positive or uplifting in those entries; just darkness and despair .I don’t regret the book burning I held to send them off into space. It was very cleansing and made me feel physically lighter, i remember the feeling of freedom wash over me as the smoke disappeared into the dusky sky.

Anyway, just thought I’d share my excitement, for my time spent as a drug pig has not been in vein. So therefore i’ve regained those lost years in a sense, and I cannot begin to express how elating that is. All that time I was in training at the University of hard knocks and it appears I’ve graduated with honours.

Bye now

V

In the time since I happened upon this site I’ve realized one thing. Most of us will never really be over it. And how many of us although not doing opiates anymore are now using something else to replace it?

I’ve come to the conclusion after 20 years of observing different folk on different things, that some of us were born to get out of it. I use my younger brother as a perfect example, at two years of age he stuck sinkers so far up his nose they had to come out through his throat, around six months later Mum found him in the medicine cabinet eating soluable asprin and drinking cough elixer. He loved the taste of it. At three he was rushed to hospital after sticking his head in the chlorine bucket and inhaling as deeply as he could. He was OK and when I asked him why he did it, the little shit said he “wanted to know what powder would feel like going up my nose”. Certainly nothing he’d ever seen at home or anywhere else. My olds didn’t even drink. He just had the compulsive urge to get that white powder up his nose.

As he got into his early teens he was smoking heaps of weed, as was I, but not together. I didn’t really take to my younger siblings taking drugs of any kind. I wanted to be the bad one!!!! By fourteen he was getting smashed on drinking binges with his band. There was one night Mum came and woke me up in a panic saying he was freaking out in his room and to help. You see, because I’m the oldest and the first to be busted with weed, forevermore when my sibs were to have their own problems with different poisons at different stages I would be summoned to sort them out. I’d try and explain to the folks that I smoke natural pot, that’s all i’d ever done until quite late in life. I didn’t even drink for fucks sake but drugs were drugs at our house and that’s all there was to it.(morons)

It turned out my brother had taken 27 motion sickness tablets which were really big at the time among the drugstore cowboys, and catovit were popular as well. Some type of treatment for catatonic conditions apparently. I never did any myself, it was freaky enough to watch the others do it. He halucinated hardcore for around fifteen hours, his pulse and all was fine, I really didn’t want to take him to hospital in that state. He was describing giant perspex prehistoric cockroaches with neon guts and practically crawling the wall to escape the invasion screaming like death. They would have locked the dickhead up and thrown away the key.

He chose chemist as something to work toward so he could make his own speed, At sixteen he moved to the big city and well that’s an epic in itself. Coke, Heroin, speed, Ecstacy, Alcohol abuse for 15 years until a life changing incident at 30 forced him to stop it all. He’s fine now, likes a drink if the occasion calls for it, but that’s about it.

But I’ll always wonder what it is about us, and so many like us that destines us to a life of pushing the envelope and just needing to be out of it in some way.
I myself am a chronic user of pot. It’s far more damaging than anything else I’ve ever done because I’ve never been off it since 14.. The thing that really shits me is once I made the decision to stop junk, that was that. Problem with weed is everone in my immediate crowd do it. I was ok on the bush weed, that’s what I liked. But somehow I crept into the Hydropnic stuff and although I smoke the least chemicals I can, It still has come to my attention that it’s a very real physical addiction. I don’t smoke until I get home from work. My decision making skills and level of patience would not exist. Every weekend I say will be the last and I have become quite the procrastinator in this area. I hate hypocricy and now I myself have become Queen Hypocrisy. It’s not a matter of choice anymore. I am determined to have my degree at forty, which will never happen as long as I’m smoking this smackweed.

This weekend is actually going to be it. I watched the disection of a specimen around my age who died from smoking cigarettes, which on a per capita basis are less harmful than pot . Nursing has scared the shit out of me which is largely why I don’t party anymore. I know what happens down the track. But I do at times miss it. It will be interesting to see what kind of withdrawal I’ll get. I’m already agitated just thiking about how psychotic I’m about to become this week. Well it has to happen sometime , just not this morning. It’s wet, cold and miserable so I’m going to get stoned and curl up with a DVD some chocolate and my cat……..

Here goes

Sometimes it’s hard to remember a time when our minds were clear and bright. Unpolluted.

I look back now and cannot beleive the niavety of my parents and my freinds’ parents as well. I grew up in a new suburb where everyone had good jobs two cars and neat houses with gardens. You know the deal. Not too much money, but not too little either. Very ordinary working class picture perfect stuff(on the outside anyway)

My parents were pretty straight as youngsters. Dad smoked a pipe on one occasion but the taste of the tobacco had him vomiting for weeks. Mum got “tipsy for the first time when she turned forty on a Brandy Alexander.

It was around year 5 at school when the drug and alcohol evenings started. Heaps of kids had older sibs at the local high school and a couple ended up getting smashed on muscat at the dance with near fatal consequences. Hence the reputation as the bad school and all the parents went into a panic.

Back then the kids didn’t go to these evenings, just the olds. So we had to rely on our parents coming home and passing on thee info. I can remember Mum being terrified of us becoming heroin addicts because of it’s instant addiction property’s. Yep one shot and you’re hooked. No mention of anyother drug as far as she was concerned it was all about heroin.

Mum went to work discussing with the ladies in the office her shock and horror of the information session. They all had a bit to say and one woman had a particularly “tragic”story about her daugter but had never brought it up as she was too ashamed.
Her daughter was in rehab at the time of the conversation. The biddies were opining, judging and saying how it’ll never happen to my kid and so on. Apparently this lady got really upset and felt it was time to share it. You see it wasn’t her daughter’s fault,(hmm?????) This is what this woman told Mum;;;
The story begins on a Saturday night when 17 y.o daughter and company go to the cinema. They choose their seats and settle in. The lights go out and five minutes later, an evil stranger leapt over her from behind, put one hand across her mouth and booted her with the other.

It was a dealer, they do that to get people addicted so they can make money from selling drugs.

Can you beleive the mother chooses to beleive that story to this day more than thirty years later? Or at all? Her parents used to give her money to “help” her when she was sick!Dumb,dumb,dumb!!!!

I have to say the story scared the shit out of me when Mum told me,(I was only about 7) and needless to say she realises now that her freind is in denial as the antics of my brother and myself over a period of time has educated her in how things really are. I am not proud of this but at least now she’s aware.But the fact that it sounded beleivable to these middle aged women makes me laugh very loud.

Ironically, most children from the picturesque street where I grew up, with our fabulous goody goody parents’;and our shiny two wheeler bikes have lost it in one way or another at some point. two died of freak illnesses, three boys came as gay out and could never go back there again, my brother and I fucked off to Sydney as soon as we could, some have been in or a currently in prison , one died of drug related problems. a couple were totalled in car accidents within weeks of being leagal. Three made it out unscathed and they were brothers and sister. How’s that for a neighbours script?
Chomp on that Ramsay Street:) I’d like to hear other ridiculous stories that have been genuinely beleived. I love nothing more than to chuckle at the expense of the gullable and the simple

By now