MY MUM SAW ME YESTERDAY.
Note the phrasing. I didn't see my Mum. We were there together. She saw me. She said I reminded her of when she first saw me on the gear, about 5 years ago. Lank hair. Pushed self into shower. Probably nowhere near as clean as I'd have liked to think. Pinpoint pupils. The B ain't that good, but it's chock full of benzos. (I know this because I tested my piss.) I felt Valium'd out of my brainbox.
It's interesting that she rang my druggiworker in despair. I do not feel that she forced my hand in this, as I was planning to steam in and tell the unacceptable truth about me and my addiction and this crappy methadone ANYHOW.
This is me on methadone. No showering. Barely bothering to do anything, unless absolutely essentual it's done NOW.
Endless depresssion. Aged 10 I was depressed enough to believe I was dying. I have never felt the same, ever again. Parents' divorce. Parents' remarriage. Both parties wanted me to live with them. I loved my Mum. But my Dad's was the place to be. Had I insisted on going with Mum I would have torn my family apart. How selfish would that be?
I am still depressed. Clinic barely ever ask why. I could go on. Suffice it to say, if this is "therapy" it ain't working on me. I do WAY better on heroin. Sad, you may think. But true. Absolutely 100% true.
I wish it weren't that way. But that's how it is.
The could-be's, should-be's, ought-to-be's. All these I have pondered and indulged. I "should" feel some other way. "Should" do it that other way. I have tried and tried. It just does not work.
If only somebody in power would put forward a therapy that actually works. I'm not talking 1 and 2 year habits where methadone might work. Subutex might well work. I'm talking decades lost to ineffectual methadone. And every spare penny STILL going on gear. If methadone worked so well, no-one would feel the need to use on top. Ever.
Such drugs are out there. The government just do not have the balls to give effective Therapy. Injectable diamorphine. Morphine tablets. Morphine and hydromorphone (dilaudid) amps are also available. Somebody, somewhere, use some imagination. PLEASE!
I despair. I look like a homeless. Lank, greasy, dirty. Haven't been near a laundrette in over a month. Yes a lot of this is down to me. But a half-decent therapy might push me half-way to "normality". The other half would of course be up to me.
Opinions, please! Just say what you think. I'm sure a lot of you disapprove anyhow... :-(
:-) I'm waiting on da man for a G. He's taking ages.
VELVET UNDERGROUND: I'M WAITING FOR THE MAN
ADDIO, MAESTRO - *"**When writers die they become books, which is, after all, not too bad an incarnation", *said Borges and it is true that we still have the works to conso...
1 hour ago