I got my general assistance yesterday. Huge relief. The whole application process was really stressful. I had nightmares every night leading up to the final appointment and was feeling generally extremely panicked, I even missed the appointment and had to reschedule because I had a panic attack on the way there. But I got it finally, which is great because I really need the help. Having no income has been really really hard and I have had nothing coming in since I quit boosting and escorting. One less thing to worry about now. Now I have to focus on getting the medical records I need for my SSI application and keeping up with therapy and meds, etc.
One of the things I have been struggling with lately is keeping my room clean. I know how silly that must sound. I live in an SRO, which means single room occupancy. Here is what Wikipedia has to say about SROs.
'A single room occupancy (more commonly SRO, sometimes called single resident occupancy) is a multiple tenant building that houses one or two people in individual rooms (sometimes two rooms, or two rooms with a bathroom or half bathroom), or to the single room dwelling itself. SRO tenants typically share bathrooms and / or kitchens, while some SRO rooms may include kitchenettes, bathrooms, or half-baths. Although many are former hotels, SROs are primarily rented as a permanent residence.'
Basically I have to fit my entire living space into a room half the size of most peoples bedrooms. My building does not have a kitchen onsite, I share a bathroom and a shower, and I also live with my boyfriend. As you can imagine, space is an issue. The twin bed that Dave and I share takes up half of the room, we also have two bikes which take up the majority of the remaining floor space. In addition to that I have a kitchen area with a microwave, hot plates, toaster oven, and space for my dishes and food. I have a bureau for all of our art supplies and another for all of our clothes. I have a lot of stuff and it has been really hard to find room for everything. If you leave one or two things out the place is basically trashed. Dave also is not the best at keeping things clean and we constantly fight about the state of the room. It's really depressing waking up every morning in a shithole. Sometimes the room gets so out of control, I want to clean it, but I don't know where to start. It's overwhelming. I feel like in order to get any semblance of structure into my life I need to organize my living space first. The way things are right now I can't get to any of my art supplies and have no room to work on projects. I can barely reach my clothes and hygiene supplies because I have to climb over bikes or a bunch of Daves random crap just to get to them. Currently there is a third bike blocking my sink. This is the main point of contention in our relationship and to be honest, I really feel like he doesn't give a shit at all, which makes me feel like he doesn't care about me or have any respect for what I find important.
Another issue between us has been food. We both get food stamps, around $180 a month each, which in San Francisco doesn't really amount to that much. Historically I have spent my entire card on food and he sells all or half of his. He's twice my size so he eats a lot more than I do. Before we were together I usually could make my card last almost the entire month. Now that I'm trying to feed two people it barely lasts two weeks. At the end of the month we are left to either starve or are forced to steal food. When I bring it up he get's angry, we fought about it this morning. I bought a bunch of cereal on sale the other day, six boxes for $12, which I thought was a great deal and would last for a while. Within two days he had already eaten two and a half boxes of cereal. I said something this morning as he was finishing up the third box about how he needed to go and get his food stamp card from the GA office (he lost it at some point.) He told me to shut up. I really can't stand being told to shut up and don't think I should have to put up with that kind of shit from someone who is supposed to be my partner. I told him that sometimes I had a hard time seeing the upside in our relationship past all the petty bullshit we constantly fight about. I would say that 90% of our fights are about the room being fucked up or us not having enough food. The fact that he won't even discuss it with me makes it worse, and I start to feel like I would be better off by myself.
Here's the thing... if I were single I probably would be better off on certain levels. Mainly superficial levels. My room would look nicer, I wouldn't have to worry about food, I would get to smoke a whole pack of cigarettes to myself, I'd be able to roll over in bed, etc. etc. I love my boyfriend though. He's kind and understanding and he puts up with my emotional instability. I don't want to give up on this relationship I just don't know how to make him listen to me or how to make him see how important this shit is to me. I know he thinks it's petty but to me it is indicative of a larger attitude of not caring about my needs and wants. I don't really know what to do... maybe having a place to vent will keep me from blowing up so much at Dave, because I do have a tend to hold things in until I completely freak out.
Anyways, my plan for the rest of the day is to clean up a little bit, pay back some people I owe money to, and go buy a webcam. I want to start making more videos for my clips4sale site so I can have a little more money coming in. I don't want to just sit back and collect welfare, I want to use my GA as a jumping off point to make more money. Clips4sale has been a pretty decent way for me to earn an income in the past and I like making fetish videos. I might start doing webcam shows too if I can find a decent site to work for. That's about it.
<3 Zenith Chasing
Showing posts with label poverty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poverty. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Muni sucks and so does methadone maintenance
Every morning, when I actually go to the methadone clinic that is, I have to take a muni bus. It's fair to say that the San Francisco muni system is currently the bane of my fucking existence. To make matters worse the bus I have to take, the 9 san bruno, is arguably the worst bus in the entire muni system. My friend Crys referrs to this bus as the 'methadone charlie' because of the sheer number of ward 93 patients who ride it each morning. In addition to meth junkies you will find several elderly can collectors carrying giant trash bags full of filthy cans and bottles, loud, intimidating, crack-dealing gangstas from 16th and mission, filthy crazy homeless folk, and a few normal people trying to survive the bus ride. I dread getting on this bus every morning, which is why I frequently decide not to go to the clinic. I am still extremely anti-social without heroin as a buffer and it is very hard to hide from people on the bus. The drivers on the 9 do not make the situation any better, several times I have been standing at the bus stop to have these drivers simply refuse to stop, they look me in the eye and speed right past the bus shelter without pausing. Yes, a lot of people get on the back door without paying, and yes I frequently do this myself because I cannot afford the bus having no source of income. That is not an excuse for the drivers to refuse to stop altogether. Here are a couple of things I have witnessed or been personally subjected to whilst riding the 9 san bruno.
Myself and another female methadone patient board the 9 on our way back from ward 93. The bus is packed. Towards the back there is one empty seat, but a middle aged black lady is blocking it with her purse. I glance at the seat and decide not to attempt to sit in it because the lady looks intimidating and I want to avoid a confrontation with her. The other girl from my clinic apparently has larger cojones than I do and she bravely approaches the seat hogging woman.
GIRL: Excuse me can I please sit there?
LADY: (ignores girl completely)
GIRL: Excuse me Ma'am can you please move your purse so I can sit down?
LADY: (continues to ignore the girl)
GIRL: (raises voice slightly) Excuse me Ma'am can I please have that seat?
LADY: (mumbling) Nah. I don't feel like being crowded.
GIRL: Pardon me!?
LADY: I don't feel like being crowded.
MAN: (sitting next to the seat hoggers' purse) Here hon you can have my seat.
GIRL: Thank you.
WHAT!? You don't feel like being crowded?! Here's an idea, DON'T GET ON THE FUCKING 9 SAN BRUNO! Did this woman seriously really think she was so important that she was somehow entitled to TWO seats on a notoriously crowded bus? Apparently so. Myself and several other riders were noticeably shocked by this scene and this womans' audacious sense of entitlement, but in an effort to avoid a scene, her rudeness went unchallenged. She rode the rest of her way taking up two whole seats whilst multiple riders struggled to maintain their balance standing all around her. Ridiculous, but displays like this are not uncommon on the 9. Another example...
I am riding in the back of the 9, the bus is relatively full, an old man sits next to me. He sits a little too close to me and keeps putting his arm in my lap, I have to push him away several times and move closer to the person on my left to avoid physical contact with this man. A young mother and her little girl, probably around eight years old, board the back door of the bus and sit a couple of seats ahead of me. The old man immediately gets up and sits beside them. I am initially relieved.
OLD MAN: Hey there little girl.
LITTLE GIRL: Hi.
The mother feigns a smile towards the old man and begins to read a book to her daughter in an effort to distract her.
OLD MAN: (says something nasty to the little girl)
Both mother and child look shocked, mother picks up her daughter and places her in her lap facing the front of the bus, old man continues to stare at the little girl in a creepy, leering way. The woman directly in front of my leans in towards the old man.
WOMAN: Hey. You don't talk to little girls that way.
A homeless man across the aisle sees this as an opportunity to get some attention and perhaps make himself look like a knight in shining armor to the other muni riders.
BUM: Yeah what the fuck is wrong with you, are you a child molester?
OLD MAN: NO!
BUM: Yeah you are. Child molester! You got a dollar child molester?
OLD MAN: Not for you I don't.
BUM: What about five dollars? Why don't you give me five bucks, child molester?
At this point everyone on the bus rolls their eyes in unison and looks away. The man sitting closest to the bum starts to get noticeably angry.
MAN: Why don't you shut up? You're just using what happened as an excuse to beg for change. Mind your own business. That little girl can hear everything you're saying.
BUM: I'm just trying to protect the little girl!
MAN: That woman over there and the girls mother did a perfectly good job of protecting her you're just trying to get some money, why don't you just shut up?
The argument continues and escalates, the bum is provoking the man, the man is threatening the bum.
MAN: This isn't even my stop but I'm gonna get off here so I don't crack your fucking skull!
The man exits the bus, once outside he reaches through the open window above the bums seat and attempts to grab the back of his head, the bus speeds off just in time.
BUM: Jesus what a psycho.
What would we helpless females do without these white knights riding muni? Clearly the best way to protect little girls is to get into physical altercations with homeless people inches away from them under the guise of protecting their innocence. Never mind the individual who actually started the incident, everybody hates bums, let's yell at the stinky bums! Of course the original issue that got completely obfuscated here was the fact that their are perverts constantly in attendance on muni vehicles, perverts who by all appearance have their own houses and showers, making them less easy to spot right away. I guess it's easier to rail against a more visually apparent 'threat' than to confront those that are less glaring. Screw you homeless guy! Gettajob!
I am riding the 9 from my house to the clinic. I take a seat in the back of the bus. As I am shifting to make room for someone next to me, I accidentally step on the sneaker of a black guy sitting behind me.
ME: I'm sorry, that was an accident.
GUY: Psssh. Yeah sure. Fuck you bitch.
ME: Are you serious?! I said I was sorry!
GUY: Yeah keep lying bitch, that's all you know how to do anyways. Why the fuck did you have to sit next to me anyways. Whore.
ME: (stuttering, unsure of what to say) Jesus Christ it was an accident. Chill out.
GUY: (spits in my hair) Stupid bitch.
I get up and quickly try to move to the front of the bus before I am further assaulted. On my way I trip over a giant bag of cans that a diminutive asian lady is blocking the entire aisle with. I fall. The guy laughs at me from the back of the bus. The person I fell into gives me a dirty look and shoves me as I try to stand up again. I quickly find a seat near the driver and try to make myself invisible for the rest of the bus ride. I am terrified and embarassed. I wipe the spit from my hair.
As you can see riding muni is not only uncomfortable, it is also dangerous. The local news is full of stories describing robberies and assaults on muni. The bus is just chock full of crazies and the city does nothing about it. This is how I begin my day every morning, when I am actually able to get on the bus. Muni expects me to pay for this bullshit?! No thanks. I'm going to keep getting on the back door without paying. I have more than a few issues with paying to be treated like, and subjected to, the worst of human garbage. I also cannot currently afford it (LOL.)
In other news, I have been applying for General Assistance this week. My last appointment, in which my eligibility will be finally decided, is on Tuesday. I have a feeling I am going to be accepted, so please keep your fingers crossed for me. This is a big step, I desperately need this financial assistance now that I am no longer (hypothetically) committing crimes to make money. I have also been referred to a case worker who will help me apply for my SSI. Though I know I am eligible and most likely need to be on disability, it is a source of conflicted emotions and personal disappointment for me. It is hard to accept that my mental issues have wreaked such havoc on my life and my potential for success. It feels like I am giving up on myself and my future. I would like nothing more than to get and maintain a job and work hard, but my history has shown me that I am most likely incapable of doing so, I may never be able to hold down gainful employment. That is a very hard pill to swallow.
I have been attending local AA meetings and I got myself a sponsor. For purposes of this blog I will refer to her as M. M approached me after a meeting in the Haight and we exchanged phone numbers. The following day she took me to a meeting and offered to be my sponsor. I have been to meetings in the past but this is the first time I have had a sponsor. I have mixed feelings about this added accountability. If I blow her off I feel like a total asshole, this makes it more difficult for me to hide from reality by turning off my phone and pulling the covers over my head in my bed. I guess this is a good thing. M is a very nice person and I like the meetings she has taken me to so far. I still feel very vulnerable and socially awkward. M assures me that this will get better with time. I have decided to have some blind faith in the program because I know for a fact that it works. Theoretically there is no reason that it should not also work for me and I need to stop putting myself in a separate category from everybody else. This will help me challenge my self-imposed isolation and also add some much needed structure to my sober existence.
I have also decided to detox myself off of methadone. Going onto the maintenance program I knew that I wanted to be on it for as little time as possible. The physical effects of methadone are terrifying to me, and I don't like the idea of wearing 'liquid handcuffs' that prevent me from leaving SF. The last time I was on a clinic I got thrown off the program without a medical taper while I was on 50mgs. That was the most hellish experience of my fucking life, physcially speaking. For weeks I was wracked with horrible cramps and spasms. The pain felt like it was coming from inside of my bones I am not exaggerating when I say that it was excruciating. I would puke until nothing came up but neon yellow bile. I would dry heave so much I couldn't breathe. I got maybe two or three hours of sleep every night, only when I would pass out from the pain and sickness. I had to move my mattress into the bathroom of my apartment to accommodate my incessant vomiting and diahrrea. (How the fuck do you spell diahrea?) After three or more weeks of absolute torture, I relapsed. I cleared out my $3,000 savings account in a matter of months just to feel normal. I lost my job. I have never experienced a worse pain in my entire life and hope never to again. I pray to God that my detox will not be like that this time. I am going very slowly, right now dropping a milligram a week, in an effort to avoid having to relive that nightmare. There is no such thing as a painless methadone detox, it is significantly more difficult to kick than heroin. I feel like I completely fucked myself over by getting back on a program but I know that I never would have stopped shooting dope without it. NA and AA are very anti methadone. According the the program, methadone patients are still active users, so I have accrued zero clean time in their eyes. Because of this I have not yet told my sponsor that I am on a clinic. I feel like it will soften the blow if I tell her I am currently detoxing. I am terrified of being alienated from this new community and of being told that I am not clean. I know that I need to focus on how I feel and define my own sobriety. It should really be up to me whether or not I am considered clean. Methadone doesn't get me high and I am on a very low dose. I absolutely do not consider taking methadone the same as shooting heroin, to me, I am no longer using. I need to be very careful and focus on my needs first and foremost here. Detoxing too quickly would have catastrophic physical results. Still I am petrified of rejection.
More later. Thanks for reading.
Myself and another female methadone patient board the 9 on our way back from ward 93. The bus is packed. Towards the back there is one empty seat, but a middle aged black lady is blocking it with her purse. I glance at the seat and decide not to attempt to sit in it because the lady looks intimidating and I want to avoid a confrontation with her. The other girl from my clinic apparently has larger cojones than I do and she bravely approaches the seat hogging woman.
GIRL: Excuse me can I please sit there?
LADY: (ignores girl completely)
GIRL: Excuse me Ma'am can you please move your purse so I can sit down?
LADY: (continues to ignore the girl)
GIRL: (raises voice slightly) Excuse me Ma'am can I please have that seat?
LADY: (mumbling) Nah. I don't feel like being crowded.
GIRL: Pardon me!?
LADY: I don't feel like being crowded.
MAN: (sitting next to the seat hoggers' purse) Here hon you can have my seat.
GIRL: Thank you.
WHAT!? You don't feel like being crowded?! Here's an idea, DON'T GET ON THE FUCKING 9 SAN BRUNO! Did this woman seriously really think she was so important that she was somehow entitled to TWO seats on a notoriously crowded bus? Apparently so. Myself and several other riders were noticeably shocked by this scene and this womans' audacious sense of entitlement, but in an effort to avoid a scene, her rudeness went unchallenged. She rode the rest of her way taking up two whole seats whilst multiple riders struggled to maintain their balance standing all around her. Ridiculous, but displays like this are not uncommon on the 9. Another example...
I am riding in the back of the 9, the bus is relatively full, an old man sits next to me. He sits a little too close to me and keeps putting his arm in my lap, I have to push him away several times and move closer to the person on my left to avoid physical contact with this man. A young mother and her little girl, probably around eight years old, board the back door of the bus and sit a couple of seats ahead of me. The old man immediately gets up and sits beside them. I am initially relieved.
OLD MAN: Hey there little girl.
LITTLE GIRL: Hi.
The mother feigns a smile towards the old man and begins to read a book to her daughter in an effort to distract her.
OLD MAN: (says something nasty to the little girl)
Both mother and child look shocked, mother picks up her daughter and places her in her lap facing the front of the bus, old man continues to stare at the little girl in a creepy, leering way. The woman directly in front of my leans in towards the old man.
WOMAN: Hey. You don't talk to little girls that way.
A homeless man across the aisle sees this as an opportunity to get some attention and perhaps make himself look like a knight in shining armor to the other muni riders.
BUM: Yeah what the fuck is wrong with you, are you a child molester?
OLD MAN: NO!
BUM: Yeah you are. Child molester! You got a dollar child molester?
OLD MAN: Not for you I don't.
BUM: What about five dollars? Why don't you give me five bucks, child molester?
At this point everyone on the bus rolls their eyes in unison and looks away. The man sitting closest to the bum starts to get noticeably angry.
MAN: Why don't you shut up? You're just using what happened as an excuse to beg for change. Mind your own business. That little girl can hear everything you're saying.
BUM: I'm just trying to protect the little girl!
MAN: That woman over there and the girls mother did a perfectly good job of protecting her you're just trying to get some money, why don't you just shut up?
The argument continues and escalates, the bum is provoking the man, the man is threatening the bum.
MAN: This isn't even my stop but I'm gonna get off here so I don't crack your fucking skull!
The man exits the bus, once outside he reaches through the open window above the bums seat and attempts to grab the back of his head, the bus speeds off just in time.
BUM: Jesus what a psycho.
What would we helpless females do without these white knights riding muni? Clearly the best way to protect little girls is to get into physical altercations with homeless people inches away from them under the guise of protecting their innocence. Never mind the individual who actually started the incident, everybody hates bums, let's yell at the stinky bums! Of course the original issue that got completely obfuscated here was the fact that their are perverts constantly in attendance on muni vehicles, perverts who by all appearance have their own houses and showers, making them less easy to spot right away. I guess it's easier to rail against a more visually apparent 'threat' than to confront those that are less glaring. Screw you homeless guy! Gettajob!
I am riding the 9 from my house to the clinic. I take a seat in the back of the bus. As I am shifting to make room for someone next to me, I accidentally step on the sneaker of a black guy sitting behind me.
ME: I'm sorry, that was an accident.
GUY: Psssh. Yeah sure. Fuck you bitch.
ME: Are you serious?! I said I was sorry!
GUY: Yeah keep lying bitch, that's all you know how to do anyways. Why the fuck did you have to sit next to me anyways. Whore.
ME: (stuttering, unsure of what to say) Jesus Christ it was an accident. Chill out.
GUY: (spits in my hair) Stupid bitch.
I get up and quickly try to move to the front of the bus before I am further assaulted. On my way I trip over a giant bag of cans that a diminutive asian lady is blocking the entire aisle with. I fall. The guy laughs at me from the back of the bus. The person I fell into gives me a dirty look and shoves me as I try to stand up again. I quickly find a seat near the driver and try to make myself invisible for the rest of the bus ride. I am terrified and embarassed. I wipe the spit from my hair.
As you can see riding muni is not only uncomfortable, it is also dangerous. The local news is full of stories describing robberies and assaults on muni. The bus is just chock full of crazies and the city does nothing about it. This is how I begin my day every morning, when I am actually able to get on the bus. Muni expects me to pay for this bullshit?! No thanks. I'm going to keep getting on the back door without paying. I have more than a few issues with paying to be treated like, and subjected to, the worst of human garbage. I also cannot currently afford it (LOL.)
In other news, I have been applying for General Assistance this week. My last appointment, in which my eligibility will be finally decided, is on Tuesday. I have a feeling I am going to be accepted, so please keep your fingers crossed for me. This is a big step, I desperately need this financial assistance now that I am no longer (hypothetically) committing crimes to make money. I have also been referred to a case worker who will help me apply for my SSI. Though I know I am eligible and most likely need to be on disability, it is a source of conflicted emotions and personal disappointment for me. It is hard to accept that my mental issues have wreaked such havoc on my life and my potential for success. It feels like I am giving up on myself and my future. I would like nothing more than to get and maintain a job and work hard, but my history has shown me that I am most likely incapable of doing so, I may never be able to hold down gainful employment. That is a very hard pill to swallow.
I have been attending local AA meetings and I got myself a sponsor. For purposes of this blog I will refer to her as M. M approached me after a meeting in the Haight and we exchanged phone numbers. The following day she took me to a meeting and offered to be my sponsor. I have been to meetings in the past but this is the first time I have had a sponsor. I have mixed feelings about this added accountability. If I blow her off I feel like a total asshole, this makes it more difficult for me to hide from reality by turning off my phone and pulling the covers over my head in my bed. I guess this is a good thing. M is a very nice person and I like the meetings she has taken me to so far. I still feel very vulnerable and socially awkward. M assures me that this will get better with time. I have decided to have some blind faith in the program because I know for a fact that it works. Theoretically there is no reason that it should not also work for me and I need to stop putting myself in a separate category from everybody else. This will help me challenge my self-imposed isolation and also add some much needed structure to my sober existence.
I have also decided to detox myself off of methadone. Going onto the maintenance program I knew that I wanted to be on it for as little time as possible. The physical effects of methadone are terrifying to me, and I don't like the idea of wearing 'liquid handcuffs' that prevent me from leaving SF. The last time I was on a clinic I got thrown off the program without a medical taper while I was on 50mgs. That was the most hellish experience of my fucking life, physcially speaking. For weeks I was wracked with horrible cramps and spasms. The pain felt like it was coming from inside of my bones I am not exaggerating when I say that it was excruciating. I would puke until nothing came up but neon yellow bile. I would dry heave so much I couldn't breathe. I got maybe two or three hours of sleep every night, only when I would pass out from the pain and sickness. I had to move my mattress into the bathroom of my apartment to accommodate my incessant vomiting and diahrrea. (How the fuck do you spell diahrea?) After three or more weeks of absolute torture, I relapsed. I cleared out my $3,000 savings account in a matter of months just to feel normal. I lost my job. I have never experienced a worse pain in my entire life and hope never to again. I pray to God that my detox will not be like that this time. I am going very slowly, right now dropping a milligram a week, in an effort to avoid having to relive that nightmare. There is no such thing as a painless methadone detox, it is significantly more difficult to kick than heroin. I feel like I completely fucked myself over by getting back on a program but I know that I never would have stopped shooting dope without it. NA and AA are very anti methadone. According the the program, methadone patients are still active users, so I have accrued zero clean time in their eyes. Because of this I have not yet told my sponsor that I am on a clinic. I feel like it will soften the blow if I tell her I am currently detoxing. I am terrified of being alienated from this new community and of being told that I am not clean. I know that I need to focus on how I feel and define my own sobriety. It should really be up to me whether or not I am considered clean. Methadone doesn't get me high and I am on a very low dose. I absolutely do not consider taking methadone the same as shooting heroin, to me, I am no longer using. I need to be very careful and focus on my needs first and foremost here. Detoxing too quickly would have catastrophic physical results. Still I am petrified of rejection.
More later. Thanks for reading.
Friday, August 23, 2013
This will serve as an introduction
Disclaimer: It is safe to click on links in the text of this blog because they are links I put there, not those annoying advertising links you see in blogs these days. I put them there because I feel that they are relevant or that they further explain important topics I don't feel like elaborating on myself at the moment. Go ahead, click without fear. :)
I've been waiting for the right time to write my first post and I guess today makes sense because today I'm fucking up. I am about to relapse, I know this yet I cannot seem to stop myself. I've been trying to get a hold of my dealer since last night. He is notoriously difficult to get on the phone which is probably to my benefit right now, but i know that if he had been available I would have gotten high last night, so my current sobriety is not for lack of effort to the contrary. It's been about a month since I shot any dope, I've been on a methadone clinic for two months now, and up until a few days ago I was really trying hard.
I'm going to quickly tell you some basic facts about me. My name's Erica, I'm 25, I am originally from New England (Portland, Maine mostly) but I consider New York City to be my home. I moved to SF in November. I was a homeless heroin addict for seven years, I just got clean two months ago and I still struggle with my addiction on a daily basis. I used to ride freight trains and hitchhike around the US and consequently have been to almost every state and major city in the country. I am currently unemployed, though I am trying my best to find work, the economy has basically been shit my entire adult life but I really cannot use that as an excuse any longer. I am an artist and an activist. I am queer with a very asexual leaning but that could possibly be attributed to my sexual abuse related PTSD. As you can see, I am painfully (often excessively) honest. I feel like if I put everything out there people cannot use my faults against me.
Here are some things I do tend to lie about because I am ashamed. I am on a methadone clinic. My mother pays my rent at the shitty SRO hotel where I live because I have no source of income. I dropped out of college and gave up on a full ride because I wanted to be a junkie and hang out with 'crusties' in Tompkins Square Park. I am very, very shy and sensitive, my feelings get hurt very easily. I have no friends besides my dog Kali.
That's all for now in the way of introductions, if you decide to read this blog you will learn a lot more about me as I am desperately nostalgic and overly analytical. Years of therapy have made me adept at introspection and expressing my feelings and intentions. I do not mince words and I have promised myself that I will be honest in this blog, so if you are offended by, um, potentially offensive content, this is not the blog for you. You have been warned.
A couple of things happened to get me to the point of fiending for a hit. First, I was participating in a judicial program called the Community Justice Center, AKA Poverty Court. This program required me to go to court once a week, go to groups, do community service, document my dosage at the clinic, and speak with a case manager. This gave my life some semblance of structure and gave me motivation to accomplish goals and get my shit together. Last week I went in to court and the judge dismissed my case on a technicality. I should have been happy about this, so says my lawyer, but I was crushed. There goes my sense of accountability, there goes feeling like someone gives a shit about my life, there goes people trying to help me. Now I'm on my own.
My mother, who I have historically had a very tumultuous yet close relationship with, has not been speaking to me for the past three or four months. I fucked up and made a very junkie-esque move on her that I will explain some other time. Anyways, I feel very alone since I also have distanced myself from my only friends in San Francisco, other junkies. I have no one to talk to besides my therapist and my hippie neighbor, who are both great people, but I still feel extremely isolated. Most of the time I just sit around with my dog watching shit on my step-dads' netflix account. Before I got on the clinic my days were spent (hypothetically) 'boosting', shoplifting from various bay area stores and selling the stolen goods to mexican 'fences' for the local flea markets. This is how I earned money to support my habit and also how I acquired necessities like clothes and hygiene products. Now that I am trying to get clean I have no income and nothing to do.
Because of CJC I started doing community service at a local arts organization that shall remain nameless. Initially volunteering there made me very happy because I got to paint and felt like I was gaining work experience and blah blah blah etc. Unfortunately the lady who oversees volunteers doesn't like me. I have to mention that I am very insecure and easily hurt when I am not high. The main draw of heroin for me is that it makes me not give a fuck, after spending my entire childhood and teenage years feeling pathetic and like an exposed nerve, not caring about anything was a welcome respite. Maybe I was being over sensitive but I really think this woman resents me. This is really fucking embarrassing but I'm just gonna throw it out there, my wisdom teeth came in about two years ago and crumbled as they did, now I have two jagged half-teeth jutting out of my mouth cutting the fuck out of my gums and the inside of my cheeks. That shit is clearly infected. Heroin dulled the pain of the infection and gum-shredding but now I don't have that. I don't have insurance. Apparently the cesspool in my mouth makes my breath smell bad, other junkies don't care about that kind of shit but normal folk do. Anyways, volunteer lady made a comment about it and now I'm too embarrassed to go back and volunteer, don't have community service to do anymore anyways so I don't need to, but now all of the structure is completely gone from my life. Back to sleeping all day and watching 'Damages' all night. I already watched the entire 8 seasons of 'Charmed' and 'Supernatural' plus everything Joss Whedon has ever created, BTVS rawks! I'm a loser.
Yesterday I got a text from my mom. My grandfather died. We were relatively close when I was younger. I did not even know he was dying. She texts me this. She says not to call because she doesn't want to talk to me yet. I know this is my fault, it's just hard to deal with shit like this alone and without heroin to numb everything.
Anyways that's why, in a nutshell, I am now desperately trying to buy some decent dope. Pretty much everything on the street in SF is total garbage these days so I have to buy high grade expensive shit just to feel anything and not feel like I flushed my money down the toilet. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something by the fact that I can't get either of my old dealers on the phone. I should probably just go get on the bus to the clinic and forget about it, but it tends to stick in my mind once I start the process of fiending for it. Maybe I should hit a meeting or something, haven't been to one in years.
Have to go, more later.
Update: It's 4pm and I haven't gotten high yet. Hopefully I can make it through the day without relapsing.
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