My kind-of son.

When I created this blog I intended on writing so much more..
I always think about it, I used to love to write, and I still do, but something stops me these days.. maybe I'm just so buried in my own lies, I don't know how to pick out the pieces of truth, and put them together on a screen.
I don't have a lot of time to myself.. I live in the kind of house where there is always something happening - someone popping in, neighbours, friends, fiends.. I have a child - people often think I gave birth to him, but I'm not his real mother. He has been in my care for some years now, and his real mother has nothing to do with him. We have a special connection, he knows I'm not his Mum, but sometimes he trips up and calls me Mum.. besides from the fact that I do all the normal motherly duties - like washing his clothes, making him brush his teeth, taking him to school, doing his homework with him, ect, ect, we're kind of more like friends. Sometimes I get mad at him, because I forget he's just a kid.
He's seen way more than an average 10 year old has seen in his life.. his Mum is an alcoholic and occasional drug user.. he was a mistake, and she drank and used through the pregnancy - she was very young and so was my partner. He was passed between family as a baby - his Nanna and Granddad, both heroin addicts, his Grandpa is a well known criminal in Adelaide, and he was dragged up around guns, crime and drug deals. When Cam got custody we have always done our best.. our home isn't that kind of environment.. Everything is behind closed doors, but he's not stupid. For that I feel bad, I wish I could offer him a better influence..
When Cam went to jail, and it was just the two of us, things were much quieter. I wasn't using, and we had a lot of time together.. I taught him to breakdance over 6 months, and we went to see Cam together, and played the Wii everynight, then he slept in the lounge room - or on the floor in my room, because he hated going to bed. Then we woke early and made pankcakes or waffles, and I rode my bike with him to school.
Of course things changed, I started using again when Cam got out, and after a straight stretch, Cam started rolling in the same circles, the same connections, and making money the only way he knows how. Rhys, or Bubsy as I call him, looks up to his Dad, wants to be just like him, and he is more like a mini version of him everyday. Sometimes he hates me, maybe because I have to be the tough bitch, make him do the boring shit he has to do, or because I work so hard to keep things hidden away, secrets, let him only know what he needs to know. He knows his Nan is a junky, but he thinks I'm different. I wish I could keep it that way, but I'm fooling myself when I let myself believe that everything about me can be a secret if I want it to be.
If secrets keep you sick, then I am very sick.

Well, it's just that, the first time I felt her I flew...

Tell them drain the pool I’m sinking fast
Come and save my life before it pass
Scratching at the surface but the bottom’s where I’m at
Only place my addiction will tell me that I’m free at last
So why the fuck you playing with my head??? I said I’m done
Any everything I had is gone I said you won
You promised that we’d only be together for a minute then we finish
But my life is passed another year why the fuck is you in it??
Bitch I gave up everything for you even my house
Now I’m begging on a nightly basis to sleep on the couch
My counselor said I need to find a way to block the pain
I told him it was already too late she is in my veins and he said

Tell me what led you on, I’d love to know

Well, it’s just that, when I felt her the first time I flew
Nobody gives me the high that she do
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com
See, we fight all the time and she leaves bruises on my arms
But the way she makes me feel inside that girl can do no wrong
Now all my family hates me since I started fuckin with her
And all my friends done left me cause they jealous that I’m wit her
I try to break it off but she gets me back with the feel
After everything she did why the fuck do I love that needle?
Please help me

Look, this love’s killing me, literally
Every time I start to pick you up, you finish me
Used to love waking up in the mornings and feeling you
Now I’m just ashamed wearin long sleeves concealing you
Bitch you wasn't shit, how the fuck could you do this?
Now my fucking life is ruined, I’ma kill you bitch I’ll do it so I
Tie it up, stick that shit up in my skin and overdose on your love
So I can’t have it again.

Boo, whinge.

Well, I still haven't used. And my Cam is not going back to jail. His piss test came back negative for meth and the levels of pot were lower than the first dirty so... YAY. I'm trying to keep busy, which I'm often bitching about - running around after the kids, cleaning, cleaning, back at kick box training, walking my dog.. but I know it's got to be GO GO GO for me, or god forbid I will stop for a second and think and feel and regret, and hate that I'm really not done with gear.
It's been 13 days.. I think!? I am myself again.. I can be funny, and at ease.. none of that itching, buring paranoia. But I can't forget the needle.. no pipes.. just the needle taunting me that, just that feeling. That I will never forget. Imprinted forever on my pleasure centre, making it difficult for me to find pleasure in anything else. My dog makes me happy, but I don't want to dance.. and everything else I do feels like a chore.
A pathetic junky. Living in tomorrow..

I'm struggling a bit now. I'm bored, and I want to write, but writing about my addiction means I have to think about it. Which is fucking bullshit, and the whole reason I stopped going to NA. I need to take my mind off it.. But its the truth that Im a struggling addict. None of my real friends know that I've relapsed. They think I've been clean from meth since rehab at the end of 2009. And I was for a long time.. Well, a long time in my book. Cam is so gotdamn stressed that I just need to tiptoe around him.. He says the last thing on his mind is getting on right now, our using is what made him breach his parol in the first place. I hate that I know its true, but I feel that sickness come over me when I think of feeling that pin prick, the rush, the taste in the back of my throat.

Fuck fuck fuck. I need a fucking xanax or something.

I keep writing this and walking away, and coming back to it. Now everyone is asleep and I'm still awake at 3:33am. No I'm not tweaking, I am irritable, restless and discontent. It's so hot out here in my lounge room, but Cam is asleep in our room and I don't want to wake him with my typing.

So lets remenisce on my love affair with meth.. I was a 17 year old punk-ass.. I didn't smoke weed, but I loved to drink. I'll never forget the night a friend gave me a point in a bag, she told me to eat it, and then I would feel like God. And I did. Nothing could touch me anymore.. everything was easier once I started using.. I never ran out of energy, I could talk to people - I was generally awkward and shy.. I could strut across the room - no self conciousness.. no fear. I didn't need to eat. I was superhuman. Of course within a few years I had begun smoking and injecting the stuff. I didn't think I was "addicted" for a long time, when maybe it was clear to everyone else that I was. I could still sometimes go for days without it, and I didn't commit crimes for it (yet).

It was really when I met my ex that I came undone. I started using more than ever before, because he was dealing, it was accessable, noone kept track of how much I used, and I didn't have to pay. He was very manipulative and abusive, and I was obssessed. He once smashed my face on a slab of granite, broke my jaw and I lost 2 teeth. I came home to him, and he later paid for porcelain veneers. Eventually he stopped dealing, to focus on a legitimate business he was running, and to get on the straight and narrow, and this was when I realised how to dependant on meth I was. I started stealing from my work, and prostituting to pay for my habit.. I remember driving to Surrey Downs most mornings, evenings, a 45 minute drive from our house - and hating myself when I knew I couldn't make the drive back to use. I hated myself all the time, crawling back home to Benny, his hideous cracked out face. I ended up in rehab at the end of '09 for 3 months.

I gotta sleep, too much reflection for one night.
xo

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4

Hurry up, slow down.

Well, it looks like my fiance is going back to jail. He has breached his parol with a dirty piss test, but it's still to be confirmed. The field test came back positive though, it's just a waiting game now, I'm not ready for him to go, so I refuse to believe it.
I just want to know when, where and for how long. It could be a month, three months, six months, or his parol could be cancelled all together - in which case he would be doing two and a half years. If they took him from me for such a time, I really would feel like the electricity was turned off in my life. His crimes were drug related.. but he has come so far, and we're building our little life, a day at a time, it's been too fucking hard, climbing that pouding, hammer in hand, pounding at the screw, just to watched it all get snatched away over a couple bumps in the road.
I don't know, we both have not had a wack in 7 days and are starting to feel good, I'm enjoying this lazy time together.. but I don't want it to end. I'm enjoying being clean.. but I found a used fit in my drawer and as I was throwing it away to hide from the kids I felt that sickness come over me.
Best to keep it from my mind now, because thinking about it makes it worse... I'm watching Night at the Museum, eating chips, I feel fatter already from the last week of eating three meals a day. I'm going to get so fucking fat if I stay off this shit. If we stay off this shit. If there still is a "we".

Fuck this, I cant sleep.

I haven't had a wack in the last 2 days and I should be tired.. I slept yesterday.. A lot.. But now Im just laying here forcing my eyes shut. I want to get on.. But I know I shouldn't, Cam is snoring next to me.

I have to be up at 6:30.. So now this is just making me mad. Feel like such a loser today, all the drama and the bullshit spin round and round in my head, I don't know who the trust anymore..

I know this writing is uninspired, uninteresting.. But i need to vent, which is why made this space for ME!

Who am I? Im a 25 year old baby. Ex-stripper, domestic violence survivor.. I am a meth addict. Recently relapsed. I work in a skate shop.. Im a dancer (hiphop)..

More about me later, Im putting my phone down to attempt sleep.

Whoever is listening, I love you.

Xo

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.3

Mummy dearest.

My Mum has agreed to again start paying me my inheritence money from my Gran in installments. She used to do this once before, and cut me off when it was clear that I was spending all the money drugs, shoes and hotels. But I'm working, I'm engaged, and show up to family events. This seems to please her enough to throw me a bone. She knows I'm in massive debt, and I guess she doesn't want me to have to go bankrupt.
We went for coffee yesterday, 35 degrees and I wore a cardigan, to cover my marks, but she seems to think, and I quote, that I'm looking "happy and healthy". The urge to use is strong when I see my Mum. She's a very sheltered, long-suffering, slefless type woman.. but we have never been honest with each other, and she prefers denial. And I hold her responsible for most of the things I had to experience growing up.
I spent two hours getting ready to see her... makeup, hair.. agonising over what to wear. I ended up settling on pale pink short shorts and tan Prada cardigan. She didn't seem to notice that I wasn't wearing all my jewellery (in hock). I've lost weight, she still suggests I order skim latte, instead of full cream. Damn that woman. Goddamn that woman.
I can feel her under my skin, even as I drive away, tearing of the cardigan, dripping with sweat, on route to see my dealer.