This Life (Part Two)

So, Nifty didn't know it (or perhaps he did) but I was now free. I no longer needed to associate with him any longer since I had FINALLY been provided with a legit spot in Philly to score my beloved coke.

Don't get it twisted, powder is everywhere in North Philly. I had grown too tired to do the footwork to seek them out on my own,

This corner... ahhhhh! This fucking corner! They would be slinging coke (chocha), weed (broccoli), ecstasy (tylenol), wet and percs from 4:30pm to 2am. I was finally set.

This is where I needed to be every night for quite some time. I was working at a pizzeria and the owner and I went way back (I had worked for him previously). He agreed to pay me cash after every shift which was roughly $60 a night. This provided me a 'get high' every night and miserable extra shady efforts to get mine on the nights I didn't work.

Events during this time have been written about previously here in Blogs. Basically, overdoses, court cases, getting busted in lies by a loved one, theft from family... well... all the shit you would expect.

After the overdose, I went to rehab and stayed clean for 9 months and 25 days. I was working a legit job in a shitty little call center so had money.

I decided to get me 'just one more'.

This started the cycle all over again as if I had never even stopped. I was beat the fuck up and, once again, couldn't seem to stop on my own.

I remember getting a call from a girl from NA. It was Tracy. 'How ya doin', baby?'

'I ain't gonna lie, Tracy, I'm usin'.'

'Oh baby, me and Leonard will be over.'

'Tracy, I'M USING.'

'I don't care, baby, we need to see you anyway'

My apartment was filthy. Dead flies covered the window sill, uncapped syringes were scattered on the kitchen counter and coffee table, empty 40 bottles were on every surface among empty glassine baggies and orange caps. There was no fucking way these guys were coming inside.

My phone rang 'We outside, open up.'

'I'll be out in a second, Tracy.'

'You better. We WILL find a way in.'

I opened my door just enough to squeeze through and quickly closed and locked the door behind me.

Tracy grabbed me in a bear hug grip and started crying. 'Baby, its gonna be okay. baby, its gonna be okay.' Over and over.

My throat got tight and the wetness hit my eyes.

We went outside the apartment and Leonard was standing there. I forget the words that were said but there were many and these two people had an impact.

A few weeks later, I went to a meeting where two other people stepped the fuck up. I told them I was ready, but 'not yet'.

The day after that meeting I told myself that if I couldn't put three days together of not getting high then I would get into treatment as soon as possible. Those '3 days' have now accumulated to 308 days.

Things were rough for quite some time but they got better quickly and with a vengeance in many areas.

(to be continued)

 

Jebus, has it been that long? I remember you writing about that relapse, as it happened. How you were upset about turning down their help, but how that spurred you on to get clean on your own.

Have you been in touch with those two since you've been clean?

 

The one guy, Henry was my sponsor and Donna and I chatted occasionally. I'd see her at meetings here and there and she would call or text to check up on me.

Yeah, I remember that night vividly. I had $2 in quarters in my pocket and all I could really think of was all the syringes laying out at my place, getting a 40oz malt liquor and how ungrateful I was being