Tag Archives: addiction

Us and Them

 

D7EDA5C8-A2DA-46A9-8884-35C41A35A051I often have fancied that they have some sort of secret union, though I know it’s impossible.   There are certain rules to they must uphold as well:

1. You must use union approved brown corrugated cardboard with black lettering

2. You must use either fantastical yarns  or absolute truth on said cardboard

3. You must be able to stand for long amounts of time on your feet

4. Working in inclement weather is a must

5. You must wear tattered, ripped, holy, or frayed clothing on the job

6. A sad or dispondent look is recommended although a managing a smile and thank you when earnings are received is a must

***************

Amherst, MA Used to be a conservative  town years ago, but not anymore.    Perhaps that is why it is a boon for so many panhandlers and why they flock here.  The bleeding heart liberals see contributing towards the less fortunates as helping the social justice movement.

On any given day the same folks stand on their designated corner donning signs:

”Tent collapsed.  Anything helps.  God Bless”

”Today’s my birthday, out of work. Out of luck. “

”Homeless vet, down on my luck.  God Bless”

”I’m not going to lie, I just need a beer”

”Tent blew away, need help, Thank you.”

**************

Now mind you, it was the middle of February in New England and it occurred to me that with all these recent tent collapses and blow always happening, maybe they could pool their resources  together and go in on a new tent, that’s more sturdy.

Birthday boy, well it seems as though everyday is his birthday because he keeps holding onto that sign day after day. Now I feel bad in his case,  as he just can’t seem to remember when he was born, poor thing.

The homeless vet really gets to me because we have a bus system that can drive him to the VA Hospital in nearby Leeds, MA for $1.50 where a social worker could help him get housing, medical care, the works.

Which leads me to our last fellow the man saying he wants money to buy beer.  Addiction of any kind brings shame upon its victims.   Until we start recognizing that all of the people profiles listed above  are most likely suffering with addiction and/or mental health issues we will not begin to address the problem.   Driving by and stuffing money in their hand is bringing them closer to death.

You see, I used to be afraid when my car stopped next to a panhandler.  I felt awkward and avoided making eye contact with them through ny window pane of glass that separated us.  Instead, I averted my eyes down at the brake pedals or at my cell phone, the radio, anywhere but their face.  Because it triggered an awkward feeling in me.  Why had they fallen in this situation? Why would anyone want to stand here for 8 hours in the harsh elements begging instead of having assured income with the security of a job?  Because they have to.  They have fallen that far down the rabbit hole.

The day that awkwardness disappeared in me, was the day I recognized them as my equal.  I could just as easily be them, given the right conditions.  From that moment I began to roll my window down and talk.  In those short conversations I have gotten to know a few people.  We smile now and we wish each other well.

I don’t have all the answers.  Maybe safe needle exchanges are in order.  Maybe more drug courts.  More access to long-term treatment programs.  Meanwhile,  I will treat people with kindness and dignity.  I will buy someone a gift card to McDonalds.  I won’t give them money knowing it could go to heroin, meth, or alcohol.  Enabling will only serve to help kill people.

There is no us and them.  We are the same. They ARE somebody.  Someone’s son or daughter.  Someone’s husband or wife.  Somebody’s mom or Dad.  Struggling and in the grips of a powerful addiction.  A disease that will kill them if they don’t receive help.  Let’s not forget before they were panhandling, they had great lives too.

 

 

 

 


Hurt

I hurt myself today- to see if I still feel- I focus on the pain- the only thing that’s real- the needle tears a hole- the old familiar sting- try to kill it all away- but I remember everything- what have I become? my sweetest friend- everyone I know goes away in the end- and you could have it all- my empire of dirt-
I will let you down I will make you hurt.

I wear this crown of thorns- upon my liar’s chair- full of broken thoughts- I cannot repair- beneath the stains of time- the feelings disappear- you are someone else- I am still right here-
what have I become? my sweetest friend- everyone I know goes away- in the end- and you could have it all- my empire of dirt
I will let you down- I will make you hurt
if I could start again- a million miles away- I would keep myself- I would find a way.

Johnny Cash- Hurt  

I hurt myself today.

again…..

not by the Man in Black’s needle.

a different means;

the pain is no different, no less destructive.

Everyone I care about seems to go away in the end.

I hurt myself, again……


The return of “S”

Yes.

Can you believe he returned out of the abyss of how many months having passed…..November?

Sending me an email asking how I am doing.

I don’t know why I am shocked, but I am.

Attached with said email was a beautiful song:it was quite beautiful actually.

I think I should dub him the “disappearing man.”

He spoke of existential angst over spending most of his life alone and fear of his mortality.

I wrote back and let him know that his disappearing act and inability to deal with fallout

from discord from his disappearances is a good bet why his has spent most of his life alone.

surprise surprise, he didn’t write back.

*****

On another note “B” left.

After promising not to leave.

After promising not to yell.

After promising he would “never do anything to hurt me.”

Too many promises broken in such a short amount of time should have been a giant red flag right there.

Too many promises broken period.

He told me when he met me, “my word is my bond.”

Then when he has repeatedly broke his word he said, “yes I did, but you had antagonized me and pissed me off.”

apparently for some,  it only turns out that people only keep their word under certain emotional conditions.

wish I was aware of that little caveat

*****

I don’t know who is worse, me for telling my life story in the first five minutes to a man who doesn’t deserve the trust.

or this man who tells me he loves me and won’t hurt me in the first five minutes after hearing it.

*****

But let’s not thump on poor B shall we.  I am no prize package.  I am insecure, clingy, hide my low self-self esteem behind a well practiced false bravado.   My moods swing like a monkey on a chandelier when I don’t get enough sleep.     I should probably just join a monastic sect somewhere, and live Lord of the Flies style, free of the trappings of society with my dildo.

****

the problem is, the trees don’t hug you back on the island……


Mother fucker

I am so fucking triggered tonight.

It is Thanksgiving Eve and I am is obsessed about him.

Where is he?  Who might he be with?  Is he out doing someone off Craigslist or is he

starting over with the new younger version of “Lexi” already.   Complete with 5 hour phone conversations

like he used to do with me that lasted til we both fell asleep til 5 am.

……oh Jesus Mary and Joseph….help me.

his heart is already dead, and mine……keeps right on beating.

~*~  ~*~  ~*~

In AA they have Al-ka-thons.

Don’t they have obsess-athons for me so I don’t think about him all night? It’s the mother fucking Holidays for fucks sake.

Everywhere you look people are holding hands and kissing and public displays of affection abound.

It feels like life is dousing vinegar into my gaping wound.  My heart is breaking into a million shards of glass.

Mother fucking fuck.

I HATE THIS SHIT !


Woman-girl

When I was only eight years old I remember walking around the neighborhood just before dark. I would peer into the homes just around suppertime. I could smell wonderful things cooking as they wafted through the air. I would occasionally stop and see a family sitting down to eat through their front window. I’d stand there, eyes transfixed. “Could this be what a family is like?” I thought. They seemed so peaceful, happy even, smiling as they ate together. There was no belt on their kitchen table. They’re allowed to talk during dinner.

To be loved, I wanted that so badly……. that it actually ached inside my little chest.

I knew I wasn’t cute enough, smart enough, or good enough. I held fast to the idea that one of my teachers might “see” how badly I wanted rescuing from my home. If I just was nice enough, they might take me home in their back pocket and give me a new life. But…. that never did happen.

No one ever knew the shit that went on in my house behind the picket white fence.

Months turned to years and my fantasy of finding a “home”,  someone to adopt
me and rescue me from the hellish existence took on new form. As I entered
womanhood, I stumbled rather curiously into my own untapped potential of
sexuality.

However sex too became a perversion, a remnant of my past, that I wanted to stay buried. Wreckage of painful childhood memories, its unspeakable trauma and hidden scars, left sexuality for me inexplicably fused with terror.

Men looked at me and seemingly wanted me or so I thought. The opportunity for love came rushing to the forefront again. I was a quick study and inherently knew, they didn’t want me, but what was between my legs.  So began a deep-seated anger. I resented men. For I wanted their love, their affection, and they only wanted sex.

Sex; used to hurt me as a child.
Used as a game, a weapon, to exploit me, humiliate me,  abuse me
.

How on earth would I ever find a home now? The broken child trapped inside still in search of love and safety she never found. How on earth I pondered would I ever find my way there now?

I hated my body, it had betrayed me.

I hated myself for being such an unlovable damaged piece of shit.  Twisted dreams of going home, that shouldn’t exist any longer.  Is there a place for this woman-girl that I am?

My dream of finding love, of finding home seemed as elusive as it ever had before, and fading fast….


%d bloggers like this: