I told his mother.

Today my bf's mother came in to visit. We spent the majority of the day sitting in an emergency dental office where my bf was having his wisdom tooth extracted. Yesterday he had tried to do this, but his dentist referred him to another clinic because the procedure was too involved for him to perform alone. This morning was hell, he was basically kicking and screaming that he didn't want to go. Since he keeps telling me that his daily drug use is because of the pain he is feeling, not going was not an option. Of course before we even got on a subway he "had" to make a stop in to see his friendly neighborhood drug dealer, bearing in mind that his mother was on her way to visit us.

The trip to have his tooth fixed took nearly all day, and his mother ended up meeting us at the clinic. Before he went in to be worked on he was pestering his mother to give him some pain meds (she has fibromyalgia). She said she would give him a few if he was in pain later on and if they didn't prescribe him anything. After he had been called in, his mother and I sat there chatting. One of her first questions she asked me was in regard to him and his usage of the pain medicine. Earlier in the year I had told her he was using heroin again (he hadn't in 7 years before this relapse and she was around for the first mess). We had tried to do an "intervention" for him, which none of us was truly prepared for and it was a big disaster. When his mom and stepfather showed up at our apartment unannounced on a Sunday with his best friend in tow, he immediately knew what was up. He slapped me in the face with all his might and ran out of the apartment. His parents were horrified. When his mother convinced him to return to calmly talk about it, he tried denying it all, telling them I was "crazy" and was just trying to make him look bad. That I make shit up. It was really sad. Eventually he did admit that he had a problem and convinced his family that he was going to take care of it. Privately he told me I was never, EVER to talk to his mother about his drug use again. He truly scared me and since then I never have.

Today though, since she brought it up first, I couldn't help from spilling it all out. I told her that he has been using frequently since the one month he quit for in the summer. I told her about his violent outbursts and the money he takes from me to support his habit. I told her that when she sends him money is goes right up his nose. Honestly she didn't seem that surprised. She said she has no sympathy for him and I shouldn't take this kind of shit. She suggested that I leave him and let him hit his bottom. She told me horror stories about the addicts in their family, including his father who no one knows if he's even still alive. She talked about his cancer and how he needs to be focusing on staying as healthy as possible and not destroying himself even more. It was all things I have said to him a million times, but it just felt good to hear the exact same words coming out of her mouth too. She said at this point if he continues to live that lifestyle she wants nothing to do with him either.

After the procedure was over and we left the clinic, my bf tried convincing his mother to mail him a bottle of oxycontin that she has at her house. She told him there was no way in hell she would put narcotics in the mail for him. He got very annoyed and raised his voice to her, arguing there was nothing wrong with it. They debated, he got more and more angry and she got upset. I just walked along in silence, shaking my head. He said he was upset because he was in pain and the doctor didn't give him an rx for anything "good". She gave him the pills she had on her. We had a peaceful late lunch and she left to go back home. As soon as she was gone he smiled and showed me a prescription for 40 Vicodins the doctor had given him. He makes me ill.

Tomorrow we go to Long Island to meet with his Endocrinologist about his biopsy results. They will then decide what treatment options he has for his cancer. The 3 pharmacies we went to tonight were out of Vicodin. I have a feeling getting him out of bed tomorrow morning at 6am will be no small task...
Wish me luck.

Nothing changes.

The last two days have been exactly what I expected. More lies, more disappointments and more drugs. My boyfriend demanded his unemployment card back as soon as he woke up yesterday morning and it ended in a very loud and damaging altercation. This time a night table and a dresser drawer were smashed, along with my purse being emptied out and it's contents flung all over the room. My roommate, still asleep in her room with the door closed, woke up and was debating whether or not to call the cops.

He took $200 out. He told me that while he was sorry for being so violently insane, I should have known better than to withhold his money (the money that he agreed to have me hold because he would blow it all in second). He also said that only a small portion was going towards drugs, and the majority of it was going towards having his tooth fixed today. He reasoned that once he had it fixed it would no longer be causing him such excruciating pain, therefore he would no longer have to snort dope to alleviate it. He seems to forget how addiction works.

After crying my eyes out over the drama in the morning, the rest of my day was basically shot. I had a terrible migraine and didn't even want to get out of bed. Eventually I did get up, we had someone coming over to look at the apartment (trying to find a roommate for the unoccupied third bedroom). After that was over (and he took the place, score!) my bf, roommate and I decided to play Scattergories. As he typically does when he is high, my bf was acting like a complete ass. Wearing his hair in pigtails with a dog chain around his neck dancing, singing and being generally obnoxious and annoying. I can't fucking take it when he's like this. I hate him SO much. He literally makes me nauseous. And of course he kept me up until 3am like the true inconsiderate fuck he is.

Another thing that happened was that I texted Fats and told him to stop fucking asking my bf to get him drugs and leave us the hell alone. My bf said that when he saw Fats yesterday Fats admitted that he had begun shooting up. This is far beyond something I can tolerate. That's the last thing my bf needs to be sucked into, it's bad enough as it is. Fats responded with "Why do you have to direct your anger at me? I'm only someone who is going along for the ride. I'm not driving the car." I explained to him that while I certainly don't hold him responsible for my bf's drug use, he's making a shitty situation much much worse. I told him how his incessant texts msgs begging my man to get him dope and that he will pay for it do not help someone who is "attempting" to quit. I also told him how I don't appreciate how he pretended to be my friend in the past and how he promised to not use with him anymore after I cried to him and explained how terrible things were. He said he understood and would leave my bf alone. We'll see if he follows through with that.

So now it's Monday, the day my bf said he would see the dentist. He has $46 dollars left over from the $200 he took out yesterday. He's such an irresponsible asshole. He deserves to have his teeth rot out of his fucking head.

That was the worst Christmas ever.

...Did I expect anything else? Here's how it went:
Christmas Eve morning - I wake up later than I had intended to, around 10:30. I shower. I get out of the shower. I beg my boyfriend to please wake up and help me pack up and get ready to go. He mumbles and groans. He eventually gets up. I send him to the store to pick up cat food and cat litter while I pack and try to straighten up around the house. My boyfriend returns. Sits down on the bed with his head in his hands. I bring out his gifts. I don't remember if I previously wrote this already, but I know that the $150 dollars I gave him stupidly for "presents" is gone, and it sure didn't go towards Christmas gifts. It went straight up his nose. He stares at the packages that I brought out. "I don't want these" he says, and pushes them away. "You sure know how to make someone feel great" I say to him, barely managing to hold the tears back. "Just take them! What am I going to do with them?" I open them up for him. "Here's a shirt I thought you would like, and these books you've always talked about reading..." I start rambling a little, just amazed by his thoughtlessness once again. He doesn't even look up. "Listen, I really don't want to come with you. I feel horrible. I just want to stay here." Translation - I want to be alone for Christmas so I can do all the drugs I want in peace and be away from your nagging. This time I'm just speechless. He had said he wanted to come and I was relying on him not only to help me carry my lighting equipment (I had a few shoots lined up) but also just to BE there. I mean, it's natural to want to be with your boyfriend during Christmas, right? He's always been there before. It's always nice to know your man would rather spend Christmas with heroin than with you. So I insisted that he come with me. I started packing his clothing for him and spouting off all the reasons why it would be incredibly fucked up for him to ditch me last minute. It worked. He sighed and put his shoes back on.

The train ride was awful. The entire time he acted like a moody, brooding selfish baby. Around now is the time where I started hearing about the tooth. He's always had problems with his teeth because he's never really been to the dentist, only when there has been problems that were too big to ignore. He has broken teeth, abscesses, you name it. On and off for the last few days I've been hearing about his "pain". I haven't written about this yet, and it is a key element in the story of my boyfriend's deterioration, but he has metastatic thyroid cancer. I was eventually going to write some long detailed blogs about this when I had some time and motivation but hadn't gotten around to it yet. He often says this causes him extreme pain, which is hard for me to always believe. He had surgery and radiation 2 years ago and was pronounced cancer-free. It wasn't until very recently the doctor has suspected that the cancer is returning. Before his drug problem began in the summer of '07, he rarely complained of pain and it didn't seen that this was what caused his addiction. He was not prescribed pain killers and never really expressed that he wasn't feeling well. But lately he complains of pain very often and sometimes I think it's just so that I feel sorry for him and am more sympathetic to his addiction.

Which brings us back to the train ride. On and on and on he bitched about his tooth and how it was killing him. I had been telling him for weeks to just go to the dentist to which he would say he has no insurance and couldn't afford it. But paying for a shitload of heroin to ease this pain is understandable though. God. I honestly don't know if the tooth thing is real or not. You would think that if the complaint were legitimate he would just buck up and see the dentist. But no. He'd rather just self-medicate and self-destruct even further. Finally I said something I probably really shouldn't have. "Maybe my mom will give me some pain killers when we get there." My parent's Vicodin is a huge issue because of my boyfriend. Back in May of '07, before the consuming heroin addiction had taken over his life, my boyfriend stole about 40 Vics from my parent's medicine cabinet on mother's day. Even though he was basically caught red-handed, he denied doing it up and down, and made us all feel terrible for even accusing him in the first place. It was so fucked up. He eventually did admit it when I went to great lenghts to prove he was guilty, and he apologized profusely to us all. Needless to say, my parents's are no longer his biggest fans (and really weren't to begin with). So because of this, asking my mother to give me some pain killers for him was bound to be a touchy subject. And I did it anyway. It's funny how he's only nice to me when I give into his addicty demands. I guess that's what being a true codie is all about. It fucking sucks. My mom gave me her Vics after I told her he was going to be a miserable baby throughout our stay. And it did perk him up, although just a bit.

Christmas Eve was actually not so terrible. We went to my aunt's house on my mom's side of the family. They're a bunch of fun crazy people and I had a nice time. My bf was a bit on the quiet side but didn't have any complaints.

Christmas day we went to my aunt's house on my dad's side of the family. By the time we left to go there he had already polished off the Vicodins my mom had given me and was starting to bitch and complain and was clearly going to be difficult all day. Once we got to my aunt's he basically parked himself in front of the tv for hours and barely said two words to anyone. And I HATE having to explain what's wrong with him to my family. I hate making excuses and being with someone who can't do something as simple as attend a family function without there being some sort of problem.

After we got back to my parent's house he REALLY starting acting like a selfish asshole. He kept insisting we go back to the city, obviously to get drugs. He made me call someone I know who can get "stuff" repeatedly for hours until it became apparent that he was just going to have to go without. And of course it's MY fault that he's not feeling well. MY fault that he can't get drugs. God, he made me so fucking angry. Here we are at my parent's house who treat him like gold even though he doesn't deserve it. They are cooking for us, washing our clothes, showering us in gifts, even giving him painkillers so he can feel better. And all he can do is complain that nothing is good enough. And here I am spending all of Christmas night trying to find him drugs, worrying that he might do something crazy. On top of it, a bunch of my friends are also home for the holiday and they all keep calling me, asking me to come out for drinks. I ask my bf to please come. He refuses, and forbids me to go. Finally he says "give me my unemployment card and you can go". The card has $600 on it. I'd have to be a total idiot to give into something like that. Not to mention that morning he had woken up at 8am, gone through my stuff and found the card. He then walked around my neighborhood in search of an ATM which gladly he never found. Once I realized it was gone I had demanded it back and he handed it to me sheepishly.
So of course I had no choice to stay in and baby-sit once again. Good times. I slept horribly that night because he kept huffing and puffing, tossing and turning. All I could imagine was him finding where I had hid my money and his card and sneaking off in the middle of the night. What a wonderful Christmas.

The next two days were slightly better, minus him freaking out and screaming he was in pain last night, even though I had gotten in touch with a dentist earlier in the day who had agreed to see him and he had refused. Oh well. He had his chance.

On top of that, yesterday morning I finally saw my doctor in regard to my high blood pressure and splitting headaches I've been having. When the nurse took my BP it was higher than it ever had been. My doctor expressed a lot of concern and said I seriously need to reduce the stress in my life and go on a beta blocker to get it down. I also need to go back in a week for extensive testing to check my kidney function, my heart and some other things. Great. I am a huge baby when it comes to anything medical. I feel an anxiety attack coming over every time I step into a doctor's office. So hearing news like that scares the shit out of me. She suggested I get one of those home BP monitors which I haven't done yet. I'm too young for this shit!

So now we are back in Brooklyn. I'm so scared that any moment he's going to get the desire to use and demand the card and/or money from me. I told him before we left, no matter what I am NOT giving in. He can scream and bitch and threaten me and still I will not let him blow this. Finally it seems as though we will be able to pay rent on time this month and maybe even have enough left over to pay the phone bill too!!! This is big news! I don't want to say that I'm hopeful yet though, since hope is a dangerous gamble. Every single time it seems that my hopes are smashed to pieces and right now I just can't bear another let down. So now I am taking it minute by minute. So I better start watching that clock.

I'm really afraid right now.

I am sitting here surrounded by toppled furniture and mounds of my things scattered about. I'm really scared.

For the last 3 days he hasn't used. He's mainly just stayed in bed, not feeling well and taking his Suboxone. He told me this was it, a new year approaching and a new beginning for him.

Today we just parked ourselves in front of the tv. We laughed a lot and it felt nice to be close again. Until Fats decided to start calling and texting. It started off around noon and grew progressively worse throughout the day. "What's up man?" "Hey are you there?" "Let's get some." "Are you alive?" "Please man I really need some." He kept ignoring the messages and I suggested that he tell Fats that he's done and to not ask him to help him get dope anymore. After protesting and telling me he just wanted to ignore him all together, he finally responded with "Sorry man I can't help. I'm done." After he sent this the message Fats just got more desperate and pathetic. "Please! It's the last time I'll ask you!" "I'll buy you some too" "Just give me your contact" "I'll send J over to fix you computer!" (His computer has been broken and he's very anxious to have it fixed.) Finally, he gave in. "I'm gonna do it. Just for the money. Not for the drugs."

I begged. I pleaded. I cried. I reasoned. I followed him out the door reminding him of his promises and to please consider his own well-being and the future of our relationship. He got angry. Said he's sick of my shit and can't handle me telling him what to do. He came back in the house, frantically searching for his keys. He didn't find them. He told me to have a nice holiday because he's not coming back. He grabbed me by the face and pushed me on the floor. He knocked over my stand of dvds, chairs, a lamp.

I'm torn apart. I hate feeling that gut wrenching ache that he choses drugs and his drug buddies over me and this relationship. I hate the words that come out of his mouth and how terribly he treats me. I hate feel so fucking alone and frightened for him. And secondly afraid for myself. I hate that I'm second in my own life.

But somehow this time a small part of me feels okay. I know that I was right. I know that him saying he is going to buy drugs for a friend is intolerable behavior. I know that he is in the wrong and I am just doing my best even though he tries to make me feel like the bad guy. He puts this incredible guilt on me like I'm an impossible person to deal with because I don't approve of him associating with heroin addicts and dealers.

If he's not ready to uninvolve himself from that lifestyle, he is truly not ready to quit. I don't need to justify why I don't want him around these people and those situations. Or that fucking stupid shitty drug. If he really does want to to clean up his life he needs to dump those associated with the addiction. End of story.

Honestly, I don't know if he's coming back or not. I can't imagine that he won't return because he always has, and also all of his shit is here. He doesn't have any money (that I know of) either. So the chances of him coming back are more than likely. I just don't know how I will deal with him then. I've never really asked him to leave this particular apartment. I always just welcome him in with open arms, just glad he's safe and that he's here. Maybe that's my mistake.

3 years past.

Winter. In a hotel room.

Today I randomly came across some pictures of my boyfriend on some girl's facebook. They were taken about 3 years ago, when he and I first started "hooking up" but not officially dating. Looking at them makes me terribly sad. He was so gorgeous and full of life and funny and I was so in love with him. He was everything that I wanted. Then I look next to me and see him still lying in bed. He's tired and weary and not as easy on the eyes. I put on hand on his chest and he pushes it away. "Get off me" he murmurs. I could never picture him saying "get off me" 3 years ago. 3 years ago he didn't sleep for entire days, terribly moody and angry with the world.

I want it al back. I want his kindness and attentiveness and his humor and his non-stop love. It's not fair. I know that's whiny and babyish but it's really not fucking fair at all.

Sometimes I can't figure out which is worse - when he's high and obnoxios and can't sit still for a minute or when he's straight and sick and he can barely open his eyes.

Unemployment Woes.

Both of us being currently unemployment is going to be a big big issue. It already is.

First off, I have way too much free time on my heads. This freedom allows to obsess even more compulsively over what fucked up thing my boyfriend is doing at any given moment. I now have the ability to indulge every codie (co-dependent) whim and dig deeper and deeper into his addiction, which in turn sets me back in my own addiction. All day long I can monitor his calls, follow him around, peek into every single thing that he is doing. And he sure doesn't like it.

Secondly, now that he has been approved for unemployment he's already acting sketchy with his money. He used to let me hold the card so he wouldn't blow all the money on drugs. Now he's refusing to give it to me, as well as HIDING it so I can't find it. He insists that when he does get the money he's going to give it all to me so he "can prove himself". Right. I'm sure that on this particular day some out of left field expense will just come out of nowhere and suddenly most of the money will be gone. That's how it usually works.

I need to figure out a plan where I can feel comfortable. I need to know that 2009 will not just be a repeat of '08. I need things to be different because I can't fucking go on like this. Ugh.

Silent Snowfall.

I woke up this morning to snow actually sticking to the ground and continuing to fall in big chunks from the sky. I'm not exactly one of those people that gets giddy over seeing a snowflake, but I really do like the silence that always seems to accompany snowfall. The whole world feels like it's at a standstill and it drowns out all the noise in my head.

Last night I decorated my Christmas tree. It wasn't all that enjoyable. Every night for quite awhile now I've been getting these terrible pounding headaches in my forehead, near my temples and around my eyes. Not sure if this is related to my sinuses, stress or my high blood pressure which i never got taken care of. Either way, it sucks and makes me feel miserable and useless.

The tree actually looks pretty good for a $7 falsie from some dollar store. I put red skull lights on it and made it a little more "Nightmare Before Christmas"-y. Bringing out the old ornaments and putting them on made me think about last Christmas. How nothing has changed whatsoever. Both times my boyfriend has been completely high as he helped me decorate the tree. I remember sitting near the tree while he was in rehab last year, just staring at it. Wondering why I had to sit there alone. Feeling completely miserable and certainly not full of holiday cheer. Feeling exactly the same as I do now.

I had to force him to go to bed at 3:30am. I couldn't take his recording, cleaning and standard ritual of basically running around the house doing everything and nothing all at once. I want to fucking scream and cry. I want to bash his fucking head is. What's worse is that he mocks me and makes me feel a million times worse. He just doesn't seem to understand why I want him to go to bed when he's "not tired." Gee, I don't know asshole. Maybe because I can't get any rest with your ridiculous bullshit. Maybe because you pass out in stairwells and with objects that are ON FIRE in your hands and I'm a little worried about my apartment. Maybe because I have no idea what kind of trouble you will get yourself into but mostly because you're obnoxious and loud and IT KEEPS ME AWAKE.

Finally after I begged and pleaded and talked to him in that voice you use with a 3 year-old when reasoning with them, he agreed to go to bed. He was snoring less than a minute after his stupid head hit the pillow. And of course by this point I was too irate to sleep. Sigh. I can't ever win.

Another funny in a not so funny way thing that happened last night was that his ex-girlfriend (with whom I've had a LOT of issues with) decided to send us a Christmas card that featured a beaming picture of her and her baby on it. Thanks. You are just so thoughtful. It's getting hung up right next to our tree. You bitch. Honestly, who does that? She's so self-absorbed and narcissistic she probably honestly saw it as a nice gesture. This girl has some serious issues. As for the card, somehow it accidentally landed on top on a lit candle and caught fire. Can you believe it? Oh, well.

This morning before he left I asked him "Can you please please please not get high today? You don't even have to get me a Christmas present. That can be my present. I just need some peace. Please." He said of course he wouldn't. He would not do it for me. I just looked at his call list. First call after walking out of the door - his dealer. Not surprising his all. I called him and asked him. Why even bother lying to me? He said the call was an accident. That he was trying to call the guy who's house he is working on. These accidental calls, they sure happen a lot. It's funny how it's always a different dealer.

Hopefully the silence of the snow will somehow make it's way into my brain. I wish it could just be a non-stop blizzard in there.

Fuming.

So besides the side project my boyfriend does sometimes for his friend that I mentioned in the last post, he has no job. He actually just got fired on Monday. I myself got laid off 2 weeks ago due to this shitty economy.

So we both decided to file for unemployment. This is a dangerous zone for my boyfriend. Earlier in the year he was collecting $405.00 a week for 6 months. Plenty of drug money for him, no money for rent or bills for me. It got to the point where I had to ask him to leave due to his lack of contribution and constant state of being fucked up. He would even stoop to lying that he lost his unemployment card and wasn't collecting. Eventually he agreed to surrender his card to me and let me take control of the finances. Which was great and I was thrilled about it. Until he started stealing my debit card to make up for his loss. But that's a whole other story.

After he re-applied for unemployment on Monday I figured I would at least have a few weeks to figure out how we would handle this situation to ensure that I was not left hanging high and dry while he was on a free-for-all drug binge. Being the co-dependent obsessive freak that I am, I check his phone records online daily. I saw that he was calling a 1-800 number that looked vaguely familiar. So I called it. It was the Chase hotline connected to his unemployment banking card. He was calling to see if the money had gone through. But was it possible that it did? He has just applied a few days earlier, besides this was a new job he had been let go from, not the last job that he has collected unemployment from after he was laid off. So I (yeah I'm bad) logged into his unemployment benefits page online. And to my disbelief $405 had been authorized and released. It's fucking amazing how easy the government makes it for junkies to continue to use and have access to free money while not working, Astonishing. So I looked at his phone records again. And of course there they were - numerous calls to his dealer. Wow. So while I'm struggling to make ends meet he gets $405 scot free to run to his dealer with. Incredible.

When I called him and confronted him about it he said there had been a mistake and the money wasn't really there. Uh huh. And the calls to the dealer? He wanted to see if he could get a bag for free. Which he couldn't. Right. That's why you chatted back and forth 5 times. Of course.

I hate that this person that I love more than anything loves drugs more than he loves anything. I think he should be engaged to heroin instead. I fucking hate him.

Up and at 'em.

This morning my boyfriend got out of bed around 9:30 and quickly left to "work" at a friend's house where they are building an addition. My boyfriend is a plumber so he's been working on this project on and off for about a year. The funny thing is, I never see any money from it.

Everytime he heads to this "job" he always comes back high. Maybe saying he's going over there is just another way he's saying "I'm going to do some drugs. Be back later!" since he can't actually come out and say that to me. I wish he would. Yesterday I asked him why he continues to lie to my face when he both know exactly what's going on. He said that he wished he didn't have to but I would get mad at him if he told me the truth. I replied "Gee. Why do you think that is. Maybe because doing heroin is a BAD thing?"

For some reason he still has trouble believing that being a junkie is something that's frowned upon. He seems to forget the 4 jobs he's lost in the last year and a half, and the 6 or 7 times he's detoxed. He blocks out the insane amount of money that's disappeared in order to support his habit, and the ridiculous amount of cash that's gone towards his Suboxone treatment.
And I guess he doesn't see lying to me, degrading me, stealing from me and using me as a problem.

Since the whole story has not yet come out on this blog, I will backtrack later and explain more about each of those fuck ups. For now I just want to complain about the present.

I hate when he doesn't answer his phone. It pisses me off to no end. I just want to call AT&T and have it shut off when he doesn't pick up. Maybe that would hinder his drug scoring capabilities.

I hate it when he goes to Fats' house. Fats is this guy (more like a kid, he's 18) who lives across the street. He's a junkie too. My boyfriend pretends to be his friend so Fats will buy him drugs. My boyfriend calls the dealer and gets the dope, telling Fats it costs much more than it really does. I'm sure he's caught on by this point, but his parents pay his rent and basically give him endless cash every month, so it's no sweat off his back. He's not allowed in our apartment and knows that I fucking hate him. I tried to tell him before that my boyfriend has a serious problem and him doing the shit with him is so not helping. He acted like he understood and then proceeded to continue getting high with him. He told me to my face he was done and then just kept doing it. Of course I shouldn't have believed him but it's what I wanted to think. How does that joke go again? How do you tell if a junkie if lying? Their lips are moving.

I'm sick of being wrapped up in this junkie realm of living but I can't find my way out. It's too big of deal not to make it a big deal. I love him, but fuck. This really sucks.

Moon I already know.

Sleep and what I'll never have.

My boyfriend is asleep. For the moment he is at least. It's hard to tell with him, as I assume it's the same with all junkies. Sometime he'll nod off into a coma for 10 minutes and then leap up like he's got some great mission to continue. Other times he'll sleep and sleep and sleep til 18 hours have passed. A whole day wasted. Lately he's been in this sort of in between being awake and being asleep state which I find the scariest of all. He'll be sitting up, smoking a cigarette and the next minute it'll be burning a hole into the floor. I feel like I can't ever sleep when he's like this for fear of him setting fire to the house or doing some other terrible thing.

Sleep is one of the ongoing addict fights we have. When he's high he can't sleep. He has to be up doing something - anything. And usually it's something noisy and irritating that prevents me from sleeping. Like playing his guitar. Or vacuuming. Or putting away pots, pans and silverware. Which of course is when he begins to fade out and then all the fucking clean loud dishes hit the floor. Then I get angry. I get very annoyed when I want to sleep and he doesn't. I'm afraid to go to sleep and wake up an find him on the bathroom floor. Or have my roommate call me and tell me he's passed out in the stairwell again. Or I'm afraid he might find where I've tucked away what little cash I have on me and be off scoring drugs. Or maybe he'll be fucking his ex-girlfriend on my goddamn futon. Who knows?

I feel like since he's sleeping now I should be too. You know how they tell new mothers to sleep whenever their baby does? Well that's what I have to do. Except my baby is an big insensitive douchebag and I wish I could find a sitter for tonight.

One year.

Obviously no progress.

One year ago today my addict fiancee (I'm just going to refer to him as my boyfriend because I certainly don't see marriage anywhere in the near future) entered rehab for the first time (since I've known him.) What finally made him agree to go was that on this particular day he emptied out our joint checking account knowing full well that I had just mailed out the rent check. With this in mind he took the money and bought a lot of heroin. He had no shame in doing this. He waited until I was in the shower and snuck out of our apartment and ran to the bank, then his dealer. Once he arrived home and realized that all of our rent money was gone, he had some sort of revelation. Junkie revelations are usually short-lived however. But it hit him even harder once he ran out of drugs and began detoxing. I'd him seen him go through withdrawl twice before this and it was awful awful awful. Throwing up into a bucket for days, the sweating, the shaking, the restlessness. This time he knew he couldn't go through it for the 3rd time in 3 months and also was aware that he had majorly fucked us both over with our financial situation. Worse than ever before.

After many phone calls and scouring the internet, I found a detox center which would take him even without medical insurance. Getting him there was quite the struggle. I packed his bag, told him everything was going to get better now, and basically dragged his dopesick ass there. Upon our arrival we realized that this particular center mostly catered to the needs of homeless junkies. Most of them did not look thrilled to be there. Many of them had deep ugly track marks and looked him they were probably hiding needles in their pillowcases. But he was too sick to leave and upon failing his drug test he was in. The put him on Suboxone, which is like the new and improved Methadone. Once he was settled in off I went, worried the whole time that as soon as I left he would escape and get himself into more trouble.

But no, he did stay. And about a week later he was released after begging to be able to come home for Christmas. He was giving an RX for Suboxone and his schedule to follow up with outpatient. He seemed genuinely sorry for everything that happened and insisting from now on life would be different. That he was better. I believed him. It was everything that I wanted to hear.

On New Year's Eve after disappearing for an hour and upon his return seeing his pinpoint pupils, I knew the road ahead was going to be paved with disappointment and letdown. Unfortunately I was right.

A new beginning.

The two of us are dying.

So this is my first post. After combing the web searching for any answers, comfort and solace that's bound to be out there, I was inspired to create something of my own after finding "The Junky's Wife" blog. It seems as though somehow my experiences and mixed up feelings have somehow been channeled through TJW, reading her numerous postings made me question as to whether or not I've got some sort of sleep writing abilities.

I'm not exactly sure where to start, as I've got oodles to say but am torn between the right amount of information to begin with and how much I want to reveal.

I suppose I'll just start writing and see what spills out and where it takes me.

I decided to start this blog because I need an outlet to vent my frustration, fear, anger, sadness and who knows? Maybe someday my happiness as well. Bashing in the keyboard while having Notepad open just wasn't cutting it anymore.

And why am I experiencing these fucking vile emotions and why do I feeling like my existence is just living in hell on earth? Because my boyfriend, my "fiancee" is a hopeless heroin addict and his addiction is dragging me right under with him. Not in a sense that I also do dope, I'm addicted in the sense that I am co-dependent or "addicted to his addiction". My life is currently based solely around him and his problems. His wants, his needs, his pain. My life is not my own.

I need to fix this problem. I need it fixed immediately. I needed it fixed yesterday. I needed it fixed a year ago. I am such a miserable unproductive fuck and I just want to be more than that.
It's 8:30 pm and I'm exhausted from my daily rituals of dealing with this disease. The lies and addicty behavior just zap the life right out of me. I'm consumed and I can't even move. All I want is some fucking rest and peace of mind.

I want to write more, much more but it's going to have to wait. Dealing with a 31 year old man-child and his selfish dick ways are too much for me today.

I'll be back.
-Sweet Surrender



-------

I wrote this is Notepad on Decemeber 11, 2008, a week before I started this blog.
It kind of sums everything up.

it's gone. all of it. i know that when all i want is a hug and a kiss and an 'i love you' and what i get is hands around my throat being shoved into a wall. why? for not being able to give you more than my last 10 dollars. for not letting you walk away.

what has this relationship come to? i am a doormat, a punching bag. i am worthless. i'm a baby. i'm not good enough. i'm the kind of person who gets held down on the bed and food shoved into their face. i get my things broken and am stolen from. i get called every name in the book. when i cry because of it i am mocked and ridiculed. my feelings are not important. my body and mind are not of concern.

i want to know what i did to deserve this. i know it can't be because of anything i have done. i loved the most i knew how to. i gave my all. i gave love, sweat, tears, support, strength and anything else i could. i never knew i could hurt this much. i never knew he could hurt this much. i don't know where to find the strength to go on.

i'm not going to eat today. maybe i won't even leave this bed. but i do know that today my head will be lost in the fog, wondering why the person that i thought loved and cherished me could possibly make me feel like i don't even deserve to be alive. the tears will continue to stream down my face until i figure out a way to make the hurt stop pulsating through my veins and ringing in my brain.

the phone keeps ringing. the bill collectors keep calling. the rent still isn't paid. i'm already late for class. the house is filty. the dog needs to be walked. i have one dollar. my body hurts. d fucking hates me and nothing i can do or say or fucking bleed out of my genuine heart will ever fucking fix it and i hate it all. i hate it here. this is absolute hell. why can't he just hug me and tell me he loves me? that everything is going to be okay. that i have someone who loves me and is my friend. that conforts me when i am afraid and holds me when i'm crying. i don't want to be lied to anymore. talked down to. stolen from. pushed around. being made to feel like the most worthless piece of shit that has ever walked the earth. because i CARE!

i love d. i still do after everything. because i don't want to believe this is really him and i want to forget that this is happening. all i keep playing over and over in my brain is the wonderful times we had. when we first met, the excitement and attraction that i felt and how much he fasinated me and i just couldn't stay away. the nights in the hotel that went by so fast. when we started living together and doing things like grocery shopping and making plans for our future. the days we spent laughing and kissing and just being so in love. i miss the nights we stayed up not wanting to go to sleep just because we would be apart. we would make up silly games to play to just stay awake. i miss getting text messages while we were both at work saying how much he loved me and missed me. i miss waking up and driving him to work in the morning, i didn't even care how early it was, i was happy just to be with him that much longer. i even miss when he was sick, not him being sick but the way he appreciated me and knew how much i loved him and i knew how much i was loved back. watching him suffer was awful but seeing in his eyes how much he loved me helped me get through it and know that he was going to be fine and we would be happier than ever.

i just want it back. sometimes when he's sober i get a glimmer of hope. i see his old self emerge for a minute. but it always goes away again.

i guess there is nothing i can do. give up, admit defeat. be sad that it's gone but happy that it happened. althought i doubt the happiness with come anytime soon.

another tuesday. another broken promise, more lies. more hurt. more deceit. more let downs.
i feel so alone. no one understands this gut wrenching pain. the endless hurt.
he doesn't care. if he cared he would stop. he sees what i am going through and does nothing to make it right.

if there was anything i could do to help, i would. i've tried it all. i put myself out there over and over again only to be shunned and yelled at. merely for trying!

it's a vicious cycle and no end is in sight. i feel hopeless. abandoned. robbed of a life that could have been wonderful and fulfilling, full of love and hope for a great future. now all i see is shit and decay.

k told me he has written him off. he's no longer someone that he wants to associate with. j told me all about the time d spent "getting clean" on long island which involved him doing dope and offering it to him and l who for some reason did a bag each. he told me how d was passing out mid sentence in the chair and behaving irratically and crazy. as upsetting as this was to hear at the same time it's somewhat conforting to know that other people can see this terrible out of control problem as well. 

it makes me sick to look at him. i cringe when i see his eyes and his pinpoint pupils. he always quickly looks away, ashamed? i'm at the end. i've tried my very best. it's up to him to do something for himself now. all i do is constantly try to guide him in the right direction, nugding that turns into pushing and pulling. if it were up to him he would just turn around and head back to where he came from. or maybe just collapse and sit in the middle of the street.

i want to scream. i want to punch and flail out and pull hair.

i never knew life could be this bad. we all dream about our perfect futures and finding the perfect prince charming. we never imagine things could be so goddamn horrifying. i can't seem to wake up from this nightmare. i hate people who make this shit possible. i hate drug dealers, i hate fucking losers like fats, kane, etc. i hate the lying. i hate the destructiveness. i despise all of the accompanying behaviors that come with the addiction. i hate being all alone, my needs and feelings pushed aside and forgotten.