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A Conversation on Drugs With A Recovering Addict

23 Jan
  1. Hi…I ruined my life with drugs. I used to live in Cape Town and was injecting crystal meth and heroin at a terrifying and destructive rate. Two years in privatae and very expensive rehabs did not help much I relapsed and my using got even worse. In and out of rehabs and then one day I just decided that it was over.
    I managed to remain clean for a few years but eventually I just had to inject again. To get that feeling again. I overdosed really badly on a combination of tick and heroin and came very close to dying, but somehow pulled through. Now I am just a shell. Something inside me has finally cracked after years of abuse and although I have always led a privileged life, there is nothing to live for anymore.
    I cannot maintain any friendships with people. I have no interest in life and although I am not using, I know I am deep in active addiction.
    The damages of my addiction are astronomical. I don’t wish them on anyone. I wish people could see this once talented musician that I was destroy his life to such a point. Perhaps they would heed the warning then.
    My brain, lungs and veins are totally destroyed. I suffer psychologically and emotionally every second of my life. I may not look like a person who has lost his home and everything material in his life…but the crippling inability to live is slowly making suicide the only viable option.
    This is not self pity nor a cry for help. The inevitable will surely happen. And to think my career as drug addict started with cigarettes and pot…
    Be careful out there. And if your kids are using, do your utmost to impress on them the hopelessness of their life eventually.
    Even if you recover, you will never truly be yourself again. It’s a lie.
    I am alive, yes…. But do I live? Do I have aspirations and dreams? No they have been eroded by the toxic and nefarious substances I used to inject on a daily basis.
    When you look at a tree you see something green, full of life and promise…I just see something grey and hopeless…I truly hope that you don’t ever have to live is hell that is my life…don’t ever even start smoking…it’s not fucking cool!!! it’s idiotic and filthy! And you will be too….

    • Hi The L- I wish you love:)
      You have explained so well why one speaks about a recovering addict and not a recovered addict.
      I am sorry that you suffer so deeply. I am also impressed that you are not using,
      Have you tried seeing a good psychologist on a regular basis? They can help with perception and behaviour change- especially with someone like you that can give expression to thoughts and feelings.
      I am going to post your comment on my other sites and on FB- Equalspaces where I post things that I consider important.
      Please comment / post / stay in touch.
      You have some valuable contributions to make in this field and perhaps in other areas too.
      You are important.

    • Theodor- just to say that I get that you are not looking for pity or crying out for help.
      Still, one can talk about what may be available or how you could help.
      I would like photos of you and links to your music.

  2. Thank You so much for your encouraging response:)
    I am currently traveling and will see someone long term when I get back.
    If you do post on other forums, please keep my name off the post? Thank you very much. I would like to remain anonymous.
    Thank You:)

    • Do you know that this post is SA and the world’s most favourite post on my blog?
      Chat my friend: Let loose. Even when no one comments, they read…

    • I have a sister in law at Stellenbosch University Psychologist. And then there is a guy at UWC. One could ask them for references- perhaps the UWC clinic would even see you and you could donate. It is just about getting away from the moneymakers that counsel one till it comes out the ears but nothing happens. Next bit separate.

    • When I was very ill- terminal really- sort of twice the experiences on return were different.
      With the birth of my son, I had my hands full- too busy to ponder the experience I had and the changes wrought
      The next one left me with that emptiness- what am I supposed to do now stuff- I see deeper and further than those around me, I have unloaded and now I must load up again, I was free and now I am becoming bonded again.
      All this stuff hey!
      How do I fit into a world with values different to mine…
      Ooh- I do not know whether you are a believer but I had few rounds in the ring with God hey … and sometimes still…
      You have been through the washer and the mill, you had a catharsis and a battering. It’s all washed out…
      Nature abhors vacuums – fill up and take care what you fill up with..
      Vacuums and bad stuff all go to rot…
      Ha ha- :) My sermon for the day:)

  3. Hi- Would you like me to remove your name from your comments here? It shows you know!
    I wish that I could travel again:) Not been many places- England and UAE.
    A few places in SA for workshops…
    Enjoy!

  4. Hi…No, on here it’s ok. I am enjoying the traveling tremendously but again it’s tinged with not having a normal life. Ha….how weird.
    I have been doing a lot of South Africa which I haven’t seen. In April I am off to Thailand. Can’t wait.
    Thank you for sharing your painful experiences it takes a lot of courage to post on such forums where can expose oneself of unfair comments and ridicule. I loved that comment about nature and vacuums. It really hit home. I will incorporate this into my day to day living. I think it is an extremely valuable way of looking at things. Addicts use whatever they can to fill that void. So that little gem really gave me a sort of jolt.
    Thanx for that:)

    • Well yes, I also felt that I was not connecting with other people and that the words that I spoke were loaded differently although we were talking the same language.
      But one comes to realize that this is the way things are and that it is up to oneself to work with the peoples speak and to perhaps write and compose some of the fire and coldness that live inside.
      Sometimes they are deeply moved because they only have that particular expression to deal with and not also the source of it at the same time, which complicates matters (at the personal level – at performer level it is a different game)
      Stick to the simple things with people. Would you like tea? No, anything else i could offer? ( your head might say except drugs but not your mouth and if they do, your heart says a simple sorry not available here nor in my company in a loving way:)
      People do not really want to know that you covered the distance between life and death and came back and therefore know most of the important questions and answers,
      We want them to know stuff but we do not have the language nor the socio-economic power.
      My philosophical contribution for the day.
      Did the socio- political and political stuff a bit earlier:)

    • And while I am so full of it today- a poem too- give it music hey:)

      This Day

      This day is new and full of promise.

      It hangs mistily waiting to be discovered

      And as I step into its cool fresh welcome

      I see the path takes shape; full of choice.

      Where shall I go; what shall I do;

      How shall I live this gifted day?

      Distant winged sounds reach me now

      The laughter of a child; a mother’s voice;

      Silence interspersed: A dog joins in and

      Alternates with chirping birds in trees;

      A school bell gongs and

      Traffic now hums almost ceaselessly

      Silence interspersing sound less frequently

      The beat of the day picks up; calls urgently.

      What shall I do to meet the promise of this day?

      © jeanihess

      Jeanihess Blog South Africa

More here- http://blogs.24.com/jeanihess/2012/04/15/cat-drug-of-choice/#comment-18165

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On Remembering Nelson Mandela: The Rivonia Trial

13 Dec

On Remembering Nelson Mandela: The Rivonia Trial
I am again that child, mere 12yrs or so,
About to grate potatoes for the soup
On yesterday’s newspaper spread
Across the table top.
His picture: striking. Life it says…
A terrorist; an evil man.
Tears well into my eyes
And I wish that I could
Save the paper
If then not the man.
My dad says ‘no’.
He is a criminal!
The paper goes.
The law says so.
No pictures to be kept.
His name not to be said.
I make the soup and wrap
The waste with his words
And face on the printed page-
The whole of the court case there-
Consigned to the compost heap.

Looking back it dawns on me
So late, so late, too late for him
But not for me:
1959- Oudtshoorn
The location was demolished;
The brown ownership area a ghost town.
Doors hang on hinges half torn in the wind
There are no people to be seen,
A tractor with a wrecking ball
Stares at me
And next to it the other tractor
Raised its scoop high for me to see,
My throat shuts tight
And I can hardly breath.
Nor can I move and
Rooted to the spot
I watch the two machines
That will crush the house
I love to dust.
He, dad, he never saw that though;
Never told him too.
It was so painful, just to know.
But as I stood there 12yr child,
And saw what the paper told,
I knew what Nelson was about
And shed a tear or two.
Now too I see that
Dad had to protect me
From myself and laws
That might be just or not
For if I went to school and said:
“Today for oral my topic is
About a man who went to jail
Mandela is his name…

Sometimes we see so late.
.® Jeanihess
This is an unfinished work and a haunting memory.JH

Jeanihess Blog South Africa

Take

4 Jul

Take

Take the flowers and run:

Run to far places where

I never come.

Take the flowers and run.

Though fragrant and sweet

You take them from me

They will die in your hands:

You will gather no seeds.

You will not sow and not reap:

Though you take them now

You will have nothing to keep.

They will wilt and wither and die

And your space will be filled

With dead petals and leaves.

You will stamp and you’ll crush

Them in efforts to flee

Releasing faint fragrance

Reminiscent of me.

You will turn; You will run

Your unending race…

There will be no more flowers

To gentle your pace.

                                                                                                       © jeanihess

Jeanihess Blog South Africa

On Dying

27 Jun

On Dying

Oh thank the Lord for peace alights

And warms my fears away.

My heart sings songs of gratitude

And wonders at the paradox

That brings this Joy.

To never see my sons again

Or touch their hair;

To never hear their mirth

Or sooth their fears;

To never share their dreams:

The thought alone brings pain.

To never feel the sun, or wind,

Or rain upon my face,

Or watch the eagle fly

Nor touch the grass

All seem very strange.

As my day draws to its close

These Joys more precious grow

With each pulse of my ebbing life

I feel the call to give my last

And to let go.
jeanihess ©

Jeanihess Blog South Africa

This Day

21 Jun

This Day

This day is new and full of promise.

It hangs mistily waiting to be discovered

And as I step into its cool fresh welcome

I see the path take shape; full of choice.

Where shall I go; what shall I do;

How shall I live this gifted day?

Distant winged sounds reach me now

The laughter of a child; a mother’s voice;

Silence interspersed: A dog joins in and

Alternates with chirping birds in trees;

A school bell gongs and

Traffic now hums ceaselessly

Silence interspersing sound less frequently

The beat of the day picks up; calls urgently.

What shall I do to meet the promise of this day?

                                                                                                      © jeanihess

Black Lullaby

20 Jun

Black Lullaby

Hush child, hush

I speak; my voice a breath

My words; mere sounds

Their meaning lost

In theories of the mind

Hush child, hush

I work; my labour nought

My hands: so old

Their meaning lost

In oft repeated tasks

Hush child, hush

Tomorrow; another day

Hope; sustains us

Food; now none

Hush child, hush

                                                                                                      © jeanihess

Jeanihess Blog South Africa

Youth Day in Pictures and Poetry

17 Jun

Remembering In Hope

Remembering In Hope

I salute the youth who died for me:

And those who carry scars of injury;

Some lost an eye or limbs,

And some were beaten every day

When caspers blocked the way.

Defenseless children took to streets

Marching their protests peacefully.

They stood their ground when

The army and police loud hailed “disperse”

Bullets and teargas scattered them

With armed men in hot pursuit.

Batons rained down on girls and boys;

Rubber bullets knocked them down

Blinded, gasping for breath as the air filled

With the expanding stench of the acrid teargas

Reaching me too at my vantage point

Burning my chest and filling my eyes with tears

But I can not tear myself away

As the brutality repeats day after day.

Dispersing never stopped the attacks,

And live bullets found their mark –

Sometimes in the belly or the chest

Of toddlers playing in the road…

And they would lie down torn and dead.

They walk free now, the youth today,

And talk of liberty and Human Rights.

They seek expression of the self

And still protest in the streets

For faster service delivery

But now in the courts too

They raise their claims.

Policies protect their rights

With programs to realize them,

But progress is still much too slow,

Much must still be done to rectify the past,

But the road is open now

And can take them anywhere

With help from you and I.

©Jeanette Hess (Jeanihess)
Note:First draft

+++++++++++

https://jschess.wordpress.com/2013/06/13/the-sacrifice-…s-distress-for/

https://jschess.wordpress.com/2013/06/17/was-it-just-yesterday/

   

  

 

     

  

 

  

    

       

Jeanihess Blog South Africa