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Heroin och tjack var en gång och inte jag

I love speed.

I loves amphetamine and meth.

My dreams are erratic, but vivid.

The drugs are all emotional.

I have nightmares.

I dreamt I got jumped by 4 cops and they killed me in a hail of bullets.

They were in my house and I shot up all my own kitchen.

I woke up, convulsing and thrashing.

I felt like I'd lost something irreplaceable.

When the drugs finally wear off, I keep waiting for it.

I try to figure out what it was I lost.

All I can think of is being dead.

I don't understand why it always comes back to the one thing that's always there.

At first, I feared what I was doing to myself.

I called my doctor a dozen times.

He told me to stop, told me to go to the hospital.

"Have them make it permanent.

You'll die from withdrawal.

It's not worth it."

I quit cold turkey on a Tuesday night.

I sat at the bathroom sink, running water on my face, trying to wash out the oil from my eyes.

I could taste the power in the back of my throat, the sweet pain from the dirty needle, the exhaustion and anger.

I hadn't realized until that moment that I'd never fully felt anything.

I'd never been happy.

I'd never fully known pain.

I don't remember falling asleep.

My parents came in to check on me at 5: 00.

I went back to bed and fell back to sleep.

I woke at 9: 00, having not eaten in six days.

I called my father to find out if there was any reason to wake up.

I hadn't left my house, hadn't slept, hadn't had a shower.

I was delirious.

I asked my mother for hot chocolate and she brought me tea.

When I ate it, it was hot chocolate with a shot of hot tea in it.

I felt warm all over.

I showered.

I cried.

I cleaned the house.

I checked my email.

I packed for the week.

I wrote a list of all the drugs I wanted, before finally calling my doctor back.

"I'd like to go back on methadone."

"Methadone?"

"The stuff you have to take after you get off the heroin."

"Well, if you have any hope of staying off heroin, it has to work."

"I have an appointment at 11: 00.

Is there anything you want me to do tonight?"

"No.

Are you okay?

Do you want me to come over?"

She said no, and I said yes.

I got to my appointment at 11: 00.

I was already shaking.

"Get on the scale," they said.

"Go get changed."

I had on sweatpants and a T - shirt.

I remember thinking how strange it was to be taking something to calm me down from such a potent high, and also thinking about how bizarre I would look to anyone who noticed.

After a few minutes, a nurse came in.

"You're going to have a nurse come and help you get dressed."

I picked out my best shirt.

It was white and silk, and I never wore it because the sleeves made my arms look fat.

It was a really nice shirt.

The nurse came in, and she had a sense of humor.

She smiled and asked me what I was doing, and I told her I was going to use methadone to ease my withdrawal symptoms.

She looked confused.

"You have a lot of heroin in your system.

Are you doing heroin now?"

"I've used heroin.

But I quit cold turkey."

I tried to explain it to her, but she just gave me a strange look.

"You don't have to do this.

You can get your heroin from a dealer.

You don't need to be on methadone.

You're going to hurt yourself, you know."

"I won't.

I promise."

She started to get my clothes out.

I put on my pants, buttoned them.

I put on the shirt and turned to her.

"This is the shirt I'm going to wear when I come in for my appointment."

"You know what you're doing, right?

You've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow, right?

You can't use tonight, because you'll probably hurt yourself.

This way, you don't have to go back to the hospital.

This way, you'll only be a little bit sick."

I was crying.

"I won't use."

I cried harder.

I made my appointment with my doctor, and drove home.

I changed into my pajamas, and sat on the couch.

My mom had to talk me into taking another dose.

I don't remember what I said, but I remember her being adamant.

"You said you wouldn't use, you said you'd stay in bed.

You said you wouldn't get up."

"I lied," I said.

"I want to take my second dose."

"You'll regret it tomorrow.

I'm not here to make you feel better."

"You can stay the night.

I'll be okay."

"You can sleep in the other room."

She left, and I took my medicine.

She came back a few minutes later, and I let her in.

I'd taken a sleeping pill, and she sat next to me on the couch.

"What time is it?"

I asked.

She looked around, and I realized she couldn't see very well.

"It's 1: 00 in the morning," she said.

"You took your second dose at 1: 00 in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"What time will you take your next dose?"

"I don't know."

I started crying again, and I think it was the first time in my life she'd seen me cry.

"Why are you crying?" she asked me.

I told her it wasn't fair, that I'd lost my father, and now I was losing my mother too.

She told me I wasn't going to lose her, and we cried together.

The next day I woke up early, and I knew it was because I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

I took another dose, and went back to bed.

I lay in the dark for a long time.

Finally, my mother came in and woke me up.

I went back to the hospital, and I sat in the waiting room.

Everyone else was there for methadone treatment, and I felt out of place.

I kept wanting to stand up and walk out, but I didn't want to disappoint my mom.

Finally, I saw my doctor, who asked me how things were going.

I told him I was still in treatment, and that I hadn't started using.

I was proud of myself for that, even though it didn't really mean anything to him.

He explained the methadone protocol to me, and explained what my next step would be.

I agreed to go back to the clinic, and he handed me some papers to sign.

I signed them, and then we sat there in silence for a few minutes.

"You're not going to use?" he asked me.

I told him I wasn't, and that I was proud of myself for that.

He told me I had been very lucky to avoid using for as long as I had, and that there was a 60% success rate of long - term use with methadone.

I shrugged, and took another of my doses.

My next appointment was on Friday, and after that I'd be able to go to the doctor's office without having to leave my mother's side.

Posted by

This is one of the stories I wrote during my first stay in treatment in January 2006.

It's about the time I cut myself off from my family in high school.

A large part of my life revolved around drugs and alcohol, and most of my relationships revolved around them.

I was terrified of failing, and getting kicked out of school.

That pressure made me paranoid, and I had no friends to talk to.

Eventually I stopped doing anything at all.

Mostly, I just laid in bed all day, often unable to sleep.

When I was awake, I was obsessing about my future, and having nightmares about it.

I didn't shower for weeks, and I never picked up the phone to call my family.

By the time they came to see me, I was already in an abstinence - based treatment program at a local hospital.

My family was angry at me, and I didn't want them to get involved.

They never got involved.

This was the only way I could have survived.

It was a rare week in my life that wasn't filled with pain, struggle, despair, or fear.

Even the times when everything seemed to be going okay, there was always a dark spot lurking in the corner of my mind.

I had good days, and bad days.

But I always had that tiny, little voice inside my head.

It whispered horrible, evil things to me constantly.

"Nobody cares about you," it would tell me.

"Nobody wants you, or wants to hear about you, or want to be around you."

Sometimes, if I was alone for a long enough time, the voice would get so loud that I couldn't hold it inside anymore.

I'd get the urge to scratch.

I'd clamp down on my wrist with my teeth, but it wouldn't stop.

I couldn't scream anymore, and it hurt too much.

I cried silently as I stared into the bathtub.

My hair was still wet from the shower I took earlier, and my blood was still all over my skin.

I knew that my skin would be scarred, that people would ask about the injury I had sustained.

But all I could see was the growing, ugly scab on my arm.

The overwhelming urge to scratch overwhelmed me.

I took off my clothes.

The hot water would have numbed the pain, but I needed to scratch.

I had to, even though I knew it would hurt so much more to rip open the scab.

I clamped down harder on my wrist, and watched my arm go purple with pain.

But I couldn't feel it anymore.

I could no longer feel the blood running down my wrist, or the blood running through my veins.

My eyes rolled back in my head.

The blood ran down my arm, down my neck, and down my back.

The water ran out of the bathtub and onto the floor, as I passed out.

I woke up a few hours later.

My wrist was still bleeding, but it was no longer purple.

It was a deep red, like someone had taken a knife to my arm.

I was still unable to scream, but I was fully conscious.

My mother was standing in the doorway to the bathroom.

"Oh god, what have you done?"

She seemed scared.

She looked at my arms and hands, at my back, and at my legs.

"There's no blood.

Do you know where you are?"

I had to take a few moments to reorient myself.

"What are you talking about?"

I said.

She didn't answer me.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital.

You were brought here this afternoon."

She grabbed my wrist, and said, "I think they cut your wrist open to get to the drug in your system."

She ran her finger along the sutures that were sewn across my wrist.

"They had to stop the bleeding and keep you under for observation.

It looks like you're going to be okay."

I didn't see the familiar blue uniform anywhere.

I was too scared to ask where he was.

I took a few steps and almost tripped over myself.

"I'm ok," I said.

I started to walk down the hallway.

A nurse with a headset was walking in front of me.

"Hey," I said.

I tried to keep up with her.

She stopped and spun around.

"Wait, what do you mean, just a few hours?"

I said.

"I don't understand."

"You were in a car accident," she said.

I frowned.

"Why?

Why is my wrist bleeding?

Why am I naked?

Where am I?"

"You just went through surgery, honey.

But the doctors said that everything went perfectly.

You've been under for just a few hours, and you're going to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow.

There was no permanent damage."

"How?"

I said.

"How could everything go so perfectly and be a disaster at the same time?

Why was I in the accident in the first place?"

She took a step back.

"I don't know.

But I think we better get you back to your room, so we can get you cleaned up.

Do you need any clothes?"

She pulled a garment bag from behind her back and handed it to me.

It was a hospital gown.

"This should be enough to dress you until you're ready to go home."

I didn't know if I was ready to go home.

I still didn't know what had happened.

But I also didn't want to be in the hospital any more than I had to be.

"No, I'm fine.

Thanks.

I just need to go back to my room and clean up."

The nurse nodded, and then turned around and walked back down the hallway.

I kept walking.

The nurse was right behind me.

"Do you need help?"

she asked.

"No, I'm fine," I said.

I tried to look away from her, but she stayed in front of me.

"Do you want me to help you to your room?"

I didn't answer.

"Did you ask me if I wanted to help you?"

"I don't know.

I thought you said I could leave whenever I wanted?"

"I said you were free to go whenever you were ready.

You haven't left yet.

What are you scared of?"

I looked up at her.

I was so confused, and so lost.

"I don't know."

"What are you scared of?"

I looked at her and started to cry.

"I don't know."

"Are you scared of me?"

I didn't answer.

"I can't stay here," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"I need to go.

I'm going to find Christian."

"Christian?

What about Christian?"

she said.

"I need to go."

"What do you mean?

You can't go outside!"

"Leave me alone!"

I shouted.

I started walking down the hallway.

I didn't know where I was going.

I didn't know if I was running from something or someone.

I wasn't sure who I was or who I was running from.

I was just scared.

I heard the nurse shout my name.

I kept walking and kept crying.

I kept walking and kept crying.

I woke up a few minutes later.

My mouth was dry and I was thirsty.

I turned and saw Kate sitting in the chair next to my bed.

I must have drifted off.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," she said.

I sat up and pulled myself out of bed.

The movement made my shoulder scream in pain.

I stretched out my arm and shook the blanket off.

I was naked.

"I don't understand," I said.

"What's wrong with me?"

Kate reached out and took my hand.

"Honey, you just went through major surgery.

You've been in a traumatic accident.

It's understandable that you're scared.

You were raped.

You were robbed.

Your entire life has been turned upside down.

You have to give yourself time to heal."

"What are you talking about?"

"You were raped, Katie.

I'm afraid the trauma is going to prevent you from getting pregnant.

You need to give yourself time."

"But my period should start any day now.

I haven't missed a day yet."

"I know that, but I don't want you to get your hopes up.

You've never missed a period before.

You were raped, Ashley.

There's a good chance that you're not pregnant."

I dropped my head in my hands.

"You're wrong," I said.

"I know you're wrong."

"I don't know how to help you if you won't let me."

"I won't let you.

There's no reason for you to be here.

I just need some time.

Please, Kate.

Please, please, please.

Just leave me alone."

She put her hand on my shoulder and pushed me towards my bed.

"Ashley, I love you.

I care about you, but you don't want my help."

"Yes, I do.

No, I don't.

Maybe I need some space."

"I can't do that.

I can't let you go through this alone."

"Just leave."

"No.

You need me.

You just need time.

I'm not going to force you to stay.

I'm just going to keep my distance."

"Don't give me space.

Don't give me space."

"If I do that, it'll just make things harder on you.

It'll make the recovery process harder for you."

"I know what you're saying, but I just need some time."

"Okay," she said.
"You just need some time."

"Can I get dressed now?"

"Of course.

Here," she said, pulling my gown open.

"Take this off."

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful," she said.

"Take this off."

"Kate, you don't have to do this."

"Please."

"What if it makes me want to run away again?"

"It won't."

"But I don't want to run away from you," I said.

"You know I didn't."

"But I am.

I'm terrified.

I can't run away."

"Ashley, you can't run away this time."

"I can try," I said, "but I'm not sure that I'll succeed."

"You'll succeed, Ashley."

"I just need some time."

"Ashley, I'll keep in touch.

I promise."

"No," I said.

"Please don't."

"I promise," she said, "I'll keep in touch.

I just want to keep you safe.

I want you to get better."

"Please, Kate.

I know you care about me.

I just want to be alone."

She helped me dress, and then she hugged me, and I hugged her back.

I knew that if I didn't, I'd want to call her again.

I knew that if I did call her again, I'd want to call her every single day.

But there were still too many unanswered questions.

I didn't know how much longer I'd need to be alone.

But I also knew I couldn't take the risk of losing her again.

"Please," I said.

"I just need some time."

I felt her kiss my head.

"Be safe."

She handed me a necklace.

It was a golden necklace with a pendent shaped like a key.

"It's for you," she said.

"I bought it with some of the money from the safe.

It's your key.

It'll always be yours."

"Kate," I said, "are you staying?"

"I don't know.

I have to go see what they've found out.

I'll be back in the morning.

Please, Kate.

Please.

I just need some time."

She kissed my forehead.

"I'll call tomorrow.

I promise.

I promise.

I'll call tomorrow."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Kate.

I love you so much."

She kissed me on the lips.

"Be safe, Clay."

"Be safe," I said.

Then she left.

I waited for her to leave, but she stayed.

"Ashley," I said.

"I don't want you to go.

You should stay."

"Clay, I can't."

"Ashley, please," I said.

"I don't want to be alone."

She smiled, but it was sad.

"I'll call tomorrow," she said.

"I promise."

"Please, don't go."

She said something, but I couldn't make it out.

Then she turned around and walked toward the door.

"Wait, Ashley.

Please," I said, grabbing her arm.

"Please, stay."

"Okay," she said, finally looking me in the eye.

"Okay."

"Thank you," I said.

She kissed me again.

I held her for a moment, then walked to my car.

I stared at the entrance to the diner.

All I wanted was to see her standing there waiting for me.

But it wasn't happening.

I sat in my car, watching her walk toward the diner.

She was already smiling when she turned around.

Then she disappeared inside.

My mouth was hanging open.

I'd been that close.

But I couldn't go in, not yet.

Not when the panic was still so close to the surface.

After ten minutes, I got out of the car and went to the diner.

I stood just outside the entrance, but I didn't think I was going to be able to make myself walk through that door.

I just stood there, staring at the sign in the window.

I knew that I needed to get out of there.

I knew I couldn't go back to my apartment.

I'd have to take some time to try to get my emotions under control.

I didn't have a cell phone, so I couldn't call Callie.

I didn't even have money to call the drugstore to pick up something to calm me down.

I needed her.

I knew that.

And she was in love with someone else.

I found myself wondering what she was doing.

And why she wouldn't come to me.

I wanted to call her, to beg her to come home.

I was so torn.

So torn in every way that I couldn't function.

So I went to my car and just sat there.

Waiting.

Waiting for Ashley.

Or Callie.

Or someone.

Someone that could make it better.

If only for a little while.

So many hours had passed, but I don’t




Fri vers (Fri form) av bojohansson
Läst 179 gånger och applåderad av 2 personer
Publicerad 2020-11-23 05:18



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