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Category contains 2 blog entries contributed to teamblogs

Posted by on in Drug Addiction

This is going to be redundant for many readers. But in case a family member is reading, this is going to answer to your question if your a spouse, a parent, a grandparent,  a family member or friend and because it's secretive by nature you probably only know that your loved one has been less and less who they once we're. Some things are pretty obvious, like if you've found a pipe. A method pipe can be colored but the cheapest are the "insence burner" available in many convenience stores for about $3. It's going to be tempered glass like a marijuana pipe,  but it's going to have a round bowl with a small hole in it for loading it. Wher whereas a weed pipe comes in an endless array of colors, shapes and styles but will have black char in the bowl similar to cigarette char and will smell during and after burning. With meth the residue in the bowl can range in color from a pale tan to a dark brown oily looking residue. Also it has virtually no smell before, during or afterr burning. Someone can go into a bathroom, smoke some meth and come out and even if it's immediately after the meth has been smoked, there will be no scent hanging in the air like weed would leave. You can also smoke shit (meth) on aluminum foil but there's a trick to that so most people will spring for the $3 pip and and weed can be smoked on a soft drink can bent a little with a hole in it. However a determined fiend will FIND a way to get high. Wow I ran kinda long on that.  I'll try to no to go so long. 

Other items you might find are bent spoons, ear swabs with one or both ends looking not right, like they've torn off a little. Or little ziploc baggies, tiny like for beads or coins sometimes empty sometimes with a tiny bit of white dust in it. Straws cut short and at a slant, digital jewelers scales, now pocket size.

Now I'm gonna spend a minute or so on basic weights and money. I have no doubt that prices come in a wide range based on availability and competition. A common weight to push is an ounce, a "zip" which runs (in the South of the states) between 300 for some meth that has had some type of similar substance (the only two that I have even heard of are MSN and stinking bath salts which again I know nothing about except that bathsalts will give the dope a flavor. But from $300 to $1000 which would sell itself. An average breakdown is about $550-$600 for a half an ounce. Again the low scale would be cheaper but again much lower quality. The averageaddi cf t will scrounge up $20 a day for  .20. Or twenty cents. When we got into the business it was so quality that you could do one shot and go three or four days without  wanting any more. 

It's likely that many of you know first hand just exactly what I've been talking about. In thirty years there have been several constants.  One of them is it's no career move.  Nobody gets to retire after a lifetime of selling drugs surrounded by their I'll  gotten gains with their family all around them with the satisfaction of a life well lived. There may be the very rare person who gets to make It. But if they did, then they handled their business without a lot of people and oh so low profile. Even then its like a needle in a haystack. 

I've tried to lay a little frame. Once more I've not tried to glamorize the lifestyle. The fact remains that that little bit you just did WILL WEAR OFF and it ain't free and if you do get more it's illegal. Hope this helped. Thank you for your time. 

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Posted by on in Drug Addiction

When I last wrote I was at a local hospital my husband, who henceforth will be called Derrick, was bleeding to death and we had no insurance and his condition was likely going to die before I could get him out of the parking lot from the large blood clot next to his heart. I was still standing completely still, utterly alone without a clue as to what I would do now. 8 months pregnant and a two year old at my parents house. My adored husband telling secrets to the ghastly grim repeat who hovered at Derrick's bedside whispering seductive invitations for him to just let go and.be whisked away from all his troubles. I know its true cuz he told me that hed been at that point where all you have to do is stop fighting but he remembered me pregnant, and our baby boy and he began to fight to come back.

 So we managed to get him to a hospital in Dallas. From the moment he arrived it was clear that the staff had a sense of urgency. They scheduled his surgery for the first thing Christmas Day. My obstetrician said under no condition would he release me to be there for the surgery because I'd had high blood pressure and been anemic and been bleeding regularly so was high risk. So I missed his surgery, but was losing my mind. Finally I decided to hell with the doctor and loaded up my car left one ounce for the yard dogs to sell and took the other three ounces with me.  I was very nervous cuz he handled everything and I just wanted to do a good job. Remember I said I had miraculously gotten clean and was attending a 12 step group meeting. When we made it to Dallas we went to the hotel attached to the hospital where I got myself a room, my personal watchdog. In attendance. We went up to the 18th floor and I was exhausted but I couldn't rest until I saw him. So, meth in my purse, I began the mile or so to get to his room.  Completely exhausted by the time the nurse on his floor saw me, the staff made me a bed in a fold out bed beside his where I promptly kissed his sleeping,  pale, lovely face and collapsed into my chair immediately falling asleep. During the night, I felt someone shaking me. When I was finally able to focus I saw it was Derrick telling me to move so he could lay down. I tried to tell him we would get in trouble but he could be very persuave so I lumbered myself,  belly and all into his hospital bed. As expected, I was violently awakened with two nurses in a panic was wanting to know what I'd done with Derrick.  I sleepily pointed to where he lay in my bed. They about had a fit, but when he was awakened,  they got to see what a fit really looked like. He cussed them up and down just like he cussed ANYBODY that woke him up. I was the only person who could avoid a punch in the face when waking him. So we traded back beds and I quickly fell back asleep. Around 7:00 the staff showed up and while he was far from well,  the surgery was deemed a success. The local PBS television station had filmed the entire procedure and showed it as a rare surgery teaching special. We never signed one piece of paper. No addition papers,  no finanial papers,  it was crazy.  Over $100,000 worth of surgery and they never asked us for a cent. 

Once I had seen that he was gonna live, I made my way back to the hotel which by now was full of "concerned friends" the only legitimate visitor was his twin brother Eric. They had explained that they had gotten rid of all I had left them with and had Derricks money. I told them to just hold onto it and threw down a shot for everyone but me and disappeared into the bathroom. I ran myself a steaming tub of water and clumsily climbed in. By the time I got settled in the water it all hit me at once. Derrick might live, we we're gonna have 2 babies in a months time, we were drug dealers of not just a little bit of the purest P2Pmeth that could be found. We owed the hookup a shit ton of money. I began to weep emotionally and softly rub my belly talking to the baby that I hadn't wanted. By now I very much wanted my little girl. I cried and apologized for her being given us as parents. And the most heartbreaking truth was I couldn't even commit suicide now without killing a……my baby. No escape. Also I had wanted to get away from everything and everybody and like a magnate they all managed to make it. Also now he was gonna be unable to work for some time. We felt stuck. We wanted more than anything to be good parents. There are no good parents in the dope world. The truly good parents find the most loving, most responsible people to care for their children and put them there until they we're really ready to be parents and not dope heads. The night in the bathtub was the lowest, most despairing, most heartbreaking moment that I'll have in this life. I can truthfully say I have looked utter heartbreak in the face and it won, I blinked again and again as tears poured from my eyes onto the little stranger in my belly. Who turned out,  like her brother,  a perfect child. Low maintaince, an old soul. My next blog will be Drug tools,  technology, and terminology 101. For the possible family members who have found themselves in a foreign land.  Thanks for your time. 

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Posted by on in Drug Addiction

During my time as a drug addict, who also suffered from more than one mental illness, I frequently was the victim of my own bad judgment. I, still am prone to making swift but not necessarily wise decisions. I'm the target shopper that the checkout is made for. Being impulsive and using poor judgment describe me perfectly. In fact, this blog might be considered by some to be a bad idea. They could be right. However, I'd like to tell you a story about myself and my "shotgun" at the time. We'd switch roles at times depending on whose errand was priority. A "shotgun's" job was to; drive, make calls, grab fast food and for a good one, generally anticipate what comes next. We traded out the job. One Saturday morning, after we'd both been awake all night, we were headed to Dallas in my maroon Lumina to Dallas County Jail to visit my boyfriend. She was driving like a bat out of hell cuz we were about 2 hours late due to nothing ever going as planned. So we were flying down Hwy80 between Hawkins and Mineola. I was in the passenger seat changing clothes, putting on makeup and curling my hair with a butane curling wand. She said "Heads up." As we approached the city limits where the road looked closed. "Ima go around it." She said and hung a left. So we went left, then right then left again and finally hung the last left amidst the frantic waving arms of the people we passed and realized we'd come out back on Hwy80 behind a marching band. We'd managed to insert ourselves smack in the middle of some sort of local parade. In front was the band, behind and all around us was the Shriners whipping in and out of our car. Behind them was some sort of float. I'd paused curling my hair and stared stupidly at the waving crowd. "What do we do?" I asked. "Wave" she replied. So we crept along waving at the smiling people. Finally after losing about 45 minutes she saw an unblocked road and we made our exit. Parade behind us we again raced toward the big city. It was a rare funny moment in the midst of a frightening and very dangerous time in our lives. There wasnt much to laugh at during that season of addicts and theives. A moment of humor surrounded by risk and danger.

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Posted by on in Drug Addiction

It was Christmas Eve morning, 1986. My husband's hand had been getting much worse.  It hurt him constantly now. He would hold it under running water as hot as he could stand it and rub his fingers moaning. I felt utterly helpless, was GINORMOUS pregnant,  8months, and was increasingly worried that something was horribly wrong. One day we we're at the kitchen sink where he was running scalding hot water over his hand obviously in excruciating pain. He was rubbing and massaging his fingers then he sort of squeezed one of his fingers and the end of his finger burst open. Finally he could no longer stand the incredible pain and we went to the ER. They took x-rays and ran tests. Their manner was worrying me. They we're acting as if he were a time bomb. The hospital rushed us to a specialist. Now bear in mind this was Christmas Eve. When everybody takes off early. We went to the specialist who rushed us to ETMC Tyler for an arteriogram, where they punch a large hole in your artery in your groin and run die through your entire body.  It turned out that he had two bones in his left shoulder that had fused together and where they had fused, a now large blood clot that was letting little pieces float down into his fingers..  When the doctor came into the room I was all alone. 8mmonths pregnant with a 2 year old at my parents house. We had no insurance cuz selling dope for a living doesn't lend itself to health insurance.  The doctor was very plain spoken and told me my husband was downstairs and they couldn't stop the bleeding so he would likely bleed to death,  however in the event he lived they couldn't treat him because number one no insurance ,number two it was an unknown diagnosis.  They didn't have the necessary staff to do what was a very rare surgery that that hospital had never even seen. They said they we're on the phone with Baylor Hospital who MIGHT be able to see do something.  But otherwise if he did manage to not bleed to death that he could die at any moment but they couldn't help us get him to Dallas………no insurance. Good luck.……………That was it. No emotion at all.  No sympathy for a pregnant wife whose husband was bleeding to death. He spun on his heel and walked out the door. It will take more space than I want to use right now. I'll pick it up later. Thanks for your time!

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Posted by on in Drug Addiction

I may have to stop blogging about my life. I am concerned that I have embarrassed some people. That was the fartherest thing from mind. I profoundly apologize if I've upset anyone. I'm so troubled. If I had written a book, instead of blogging, it would contain the same content that is on my blog. This isnt a story that I'm making up for entertainment purposes. This is MY LIFE and it did get very dirty, dangerous, harmful, and ugly. The question of the possibility that the people in our legal system might choose to take action on me despite the fact that I do not live that lifestyle anymore. I suppose I'll try to contact an attorney to see what the prudent thing to do is. If anyone reading this knows anything about this question of legality please message me. Also if my blog has touched you, or made you thankful for the life you have today. I'm feeling the heat of censorship. Is anyone out there that wants me to continue my story please let me kmow. Again, I didnt mean to embarrass anyone nor worry anyone with the hell that I've seen. I'm not even going to include the story of one of my marriages that was violent and abusive in some very personal ways and also in the textbook punch you in the face, chest, and choke you out til your larynx swells shut afterward from the pressure and you can barely breath. Or sporting huge Jackie Onasis sunglasses to cover your eye. There's more but its not relevant to my tale of drug addiction and mental illness. My sister says I have no filter. This is probably true. I think it and I say, do, or write it. I will bend to the feelings of others if all its doing is airing my dirty laundry. That's not my goal. I so wanted to encourage anyone who is, or knows someone who is fighting the fight. I could go back and delete the post that I accidently podted on my Facebook page and then I'm wakened by the phone and told to get it off. So I did. But if I delete one then I'll have to delete another and so on. I've not mentioned any names and if you are someone who knows enough about me to know who's who. I beseech you to leave the people in my story alone. This is my story. They have all LONG since distanced themselves from all types of any type of living outside the law. Now are just living quiet lives, spending their time puttering around, appreciating their lives harming no one, obeying ALL the laws and are a credit to society. But if I'm asked to shut it down by one person in particular, then my story of battling addiction while battling mental illness will be quietly shelved unless someone comes to me presonally and wants to discuss thst lifestyle. It is so hard to relive parts of my life, and I certainly dont want to end up locked up in some mental facility away from my family. I didnt mean to hurt anyone. Please let me know if I'm doing this for nothing and embarrassing people unnecessarily. I'm deeply troubled. Thanks for your time.

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