If anyone knows anything about drugs and addiction they know that it is progressive. What once worked to cover your pain, quickly becomes not enough. Most people can't afford to keep this up and end up in a life of crime. Losing all of their wordly belongings. Selling their bodies to keep up with the pace. Homeless and mentally ill. This should have happened to me. In all reality looking back at the things I did and the company I kept I should not be here today. I was spared. There was a plan set for my life and no amount of me trying to thwart that plan was going to work. Oh, and I tried.
This is coming to an end. Things get worse before they get better, right? Well they did here. Now that the group was so small I started introducing some of my hard hitting friends from Austin to them. They were established drug addicts. Been at it for years. Could see the freshness on the faces of these kids. Basically, I was bringing the lamb to slaughter. Could not have foreseen the things to come. One big thing was crack. I was smoking it now and then, with this guy who was a child star. Played in the Lord of the Flies as the leader of the bad tribe. Did a few ads after that and went into drugs. He was the lead singer for a band that I followed named Cornpone. This guy was something else. Greatly addicted and hard hitting when it came to getting what he wanted. Once he heard about the money he was right there with me. Leaching on.
In the meantime the guy with the money had become scarily skinny and would only stay in bed with his black satin boxers on. Ordering people around. Trying to be dominate. Trying to maintain control. People would bring him food and drugs and drink and smokes. He became very rude and controlling. Would have complete control of the music and the drugs. Lining people up for the line of coke. It was bazaar and it didn't affect me because I was the one getting him the drugs. So, of course I had my cut before he ever saw it. I played along with his weird ways for as long as he felt it necessary to do so. I named him Elvis. He didn't like that I called him that but that is who he was. He bought all of his friends and used his money as power over them. It worked, people did what he said. A lot of them never left the room we stayed in. I got to leave to get the dope. Able to move freely about. Go to 6th street and visit friends. Some of them never left and if they crossed him they would be booted from the group.
On one of these many nights of coke and acid and too many people in the room. He caught me and my buddy in the closet smoking crack. This was not Elvis approved and he went into a fit. All he ever wanted was to be accepted and if that meant we had to make him feel like this too was a good thing and he should try it. Making him feel as if he was the center of attention then he would calm down. He did, it worked, he tried it. Wow! from that minute on every day all day we smoked crack. I was getting him around 3 to 5 grand a day worth of crack. Putting myself in great danger.
Me, myself and I would drive to the slummiest part of town and go into crack houses to purchase crack for them. This was not territory I was familiar with. A crack house is a lot like what you see on T.V. No furniture, very dark. People sitting around on the floors smoking the little bit of rock they just bought or bartered for. It was eery and I was always scared when going in. Crack is a whole other world. People kill for crack, for a hit of crack. It makes you into a monster for the most part. Day after Day I went in there. They knew me and the crackheads knew, that when I came in, to get up and leave. Wait outside. I was not buying a 20 piece not a couple hundred worth. I was there and I was buying thousands at a time. Everyday. Day after Day. Night after night. I felt like I was getting a target on my back. I could be jumped when I came out. One bullet is all it would take and I knew it and was taking the chance.
One day when I arrived back at the motel. Things were out of sorts. They were outside of the room waiting on me. I found out that the police had been there and Elvis had been taken to jail. Basically he had skipped bond on that charge in Brenham and they came to get him. Didn't go into the room. No one else was arrested. We were in a pickle. A few days before this we had gone to the bank with Elvis where he had sold some of his Coca-Cola stocks and we walked out with 65 grand in cash. By this time also his family was trying desperately to cut him off. So this was it. We had the money and his Mercedes.
Time for a meeting. I sent everyone packing but 3 of us and came up with and idea that this money was too much money for just one of us to carry. We needed to split it up in case one of us got arrested. The other 2 guys agreed and we split it. We each ended up with about 15 grand each in our pockets. Oh, what I would do with that money today. How stupid I was.
It took about 3 weeks for all of us to go through all the money. The events that took place during this time are a blur to me. We were super paranoid. Switching hotel rooms sometimes 2 and 3 times a day. Sleep deprived. I don't remember sleeping. Twice I remember sleeping because I was so scared of being robbed of this money, that it was taking that chance when you closed your eyes. Everyone was skeptical of the other. We parted soon after one of my friends (the child star) planned a robbery. Had this drug addict come to our room and try to get money from us. I wouldn't know this until later, when I found the money he said the guy stole, in his possession. I felt betrayed. This was my buddy. He put our lives in danger. We could have been killed over that.
One other thing I did during this time because all of my friends I had once had could no longer stand to be around me. I was alone. Me and my money. I went one day to buy crack from this house and out comes this tall, skinny, blond. Asked me for a ride. Said she was stranded there the night before. So I took her with me. I had a new best friend. Her name was Angel. I am not kidding and I do believe she was a hooker. I took her shopping and she ended up staying with us for a while in the room. She was an intravenous drug user and it was such an ugly sight. Using the same needle over and over again. I felt dirty. I never used needles in all the days of my drug use ever, but knew a lot of people that did. I am grateful I never did.
Coming to an end all of it became very clear what was to happen. I was in trouble. I had not been to a probation meeting since the first one. My intention was to go home talk to my parents, who have had no idea where I have been during this time ,and get it together. I had seen enough, I had done enough, I was enormously alone and sad. I mean come on I had resorted to having hookers for friends. I had no friends. The one I thought I had tried to rob me and the others were just plain tired of my crap. I was a wounded animal and went limping home. This should have been it, right? No, not so much. I will carry on in my next post. I need to think. I do feel better getting through that time though I feel like I need a shower.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
HEADING FOR THE HILLS
Time to look back and get on with this story. I am anxious to get through with this chapter of my life. Almost to the point to where I just want to rush through it. Discipline and control is what I am having to conjure up not to skip it. Hoping that the words will flow onto this page and get me through it. So much to cover, can't put it all down. I must touch on what I feel was so dangerous for me and hurtful and telling of what state of mind I was in at the time. All of the fluff will be left out. Here we go...
It was a hot summer, trying to find relief from the heat was not an easy thing to do. I didn't want to be home with my parents. I had no place of my own. Spending most of my days out in the heat. Riding around with friends but trying to preserve gas so a lot of it was spent loitering in parking lots. One particular store in fact, where this raunchy group of people met up for the day to plan the evening events. I was there a lot. Seemed to me more than others. Just waiting,absorbing the heat from the asphalt and smoking cigarettes. We ran that store into the ground. The locals would no longer use it for there gas and conveniences as we always seemed to be there looking grungy and well probably scary. It was our store or so we thought.
I had noticed one day sitting there that this guy came rumbling into the parking lot on a ninja motorcycle followed closely by 4 other guys on the same type of bike. This was something alright. A sight to see. I quickly asked who these people were and was informed that this one guy had purchased all of these bikes for his buddies. He was,i think,17 at the time, not from this town but from an even smaller one down the road. Come to find out he had come into an inheritance and was blowing it faster than anything I had ever seen. Throwing parties and paying for every ones beer and smokes. There was no end to it.
I said that day sitting in the heat on that curb that I needed to meet him and that I needed to introduce him to cocaine. Didn't take long for me to make myself noticed around him and all he wanted was to be cool. Be accepted. I accepted him and we began what would be this life altering journey for the both of us. Using lots of drugs and way too much alcohol. His group consisted of people that I would have never ever considered hanging out with ever. Very Vanilla Ice. I was so far from that but somehow all that didn't matter to me. Dollar signs were floating around in the air and I could smell it.
This was my ticket out of Brenham. My relationship with him and all of his "group" was strictly platonic. They had plenty of girls come and go from that group that were being used up and spit out. What started out as partying quickly became a game of hide and seek from the local police. Always staying in motels for days at a time. We lived in filth. I remember that. What started with drinking a lot quickly turned to smoking pot. A lot. Getting him to accept cocaine was more of a feat. He was very against it, all he knew was that it was bad. Parts of me still to this day feels very remorseful for pushing it. Pushing it into there faces and doing it in front of them making them see that it was not going to hurt them. How naive was I to think it wasn't going to hurt me.
That night he tried it and that was it. Mission accomplished. What I had set out to do and the result of this was exactly what I had planned. First line he was hooked, couldn't get enough. All the huge parties stopped and we were whittled down to a group of about 13-20 depending on the night and sometimes fewer. Living in this small town it didn't take long for the cops to figure out who we were and they had there eye on us. Paranoia was something that became an everyday event. Always on the move. Not trusting anyone new that came into the picture. He did end up getting arrested for being in possession. Got out immediately and we were off. It was time to go somewhere else.
How about Austin? Why not. They seemed to listen to what I had to say because I was older for one and more experienced. Master manipulator is one of the things that comes with being a drug addict. I had learned from the best living in Austin. This had only just begun. Seemed this kid had unlimited amounts of money. We were able to get just about whatever he wanted. At this point in time I was right where I wanted to be. I was high everyday,had zero responsibility and was not hurting for cash. When I say money, most people don't really get it. This kid was left a fortune. Millions, and was allowed to access it at age 16. What were his parents thinking? We blew through thousands of dollars everyday. He was supporting about 13 people. Along with there drug habits.
He bought cars for some of them and the bikes. Once we arrived in Austin we were staying at the Marriott and other hotels splurging on room service for every meal. It was something I could not believe was really happening. We were living like rock stars. They did not know this town and I did. I knew where to get the drugs and quickly stepped up my status in the group. One of the things that needed to change was the amount of people in the group. Thirteen is too many to cart around and keep up with all the time.
There were times when things didn't go too smoothly. We were all on hard drugs day after day and people were bound to get worn down. Not only was our consumption of coke getting up there but we were also dropping acid. Buying it by the sheets of 100 hits. People were starting to drop like flies and heading back to the country. It was intense, and acid in the wrong environment can send you running for the hills. Others were not so lucky and were having seizures. Others were curled up in the fetal position at the end of the bed. Truly gruesome and very much a reality in the drug world. You don't care about others and how they feel. You expect it to wear off,most of the time it did. None of which stopped us from getting on with the days events. Making a pact ,that we all agreed upon, if any of us were to die during one of the marathon drug binges we would drop the body at a dumpster and that was that. It made complete sense at the time.
One particular time I made the ultimate decision to help out one of them, was the one that kept having the seizures. He had another and this time wasn't coming out of it. He dislocated his shoulder in the process of waling around the room in a fit and was hurt and from the looks of it in a lot of pain although he couldn't talk. He just clung to me. I was the only woman in the room. This kid was a friend of mines, little brother. The others wanted to leave, and I remember his dark brown eyes with his pupils dilated to about the size of his iris and how he was pleading with me for help. It was if he had a stroke. No words would come out. I took him and put him in my car drove him to the hospital emergency room and waited. After a while the doctor came out and asked me " Have yall been doing drugs?" Of course I told him "yes" and he said "He is pretty messed up." I remember the look the doctor gave us. It made me feel shame and fear. " He will be staying." the doctor finally told us. I gave them some info about him and we left. I have never seen him again, to this day. I know he is ok and I know he spent about 3 weeks in the hospital after that incident. I know it changed the dynamic of the group. More people went back home and we were left with about 5.
This did not stop us. To the contrary. We never looked back. Although the party was over, the ugly head of addiction was rearing up and about to devour us whole. Money money money. That is all you need to be a drug addict. That and some serious emotional issues that drugs make go away. A deadly combo. My heart is hurting from writing about this. I do have regrets about this. What was wrong with me. Why was I so cold? Where was my heart? Even though I took that kid to the hospital that means nothing. He may have died otherwise. I know that. But, I still feel like a freaking boogie man for getting all this crap for these kids. They were still kids. They were my daughters age. I am ashamed of that. This is something I haven't really thought of before. I have always told these stories.Over and over. Leaving out any of my own responsibility for the mess around me. hmmm...Maybe just maybe I am getting somewhere. I was a lousy person in those days. Self absorbed. Greedy and careless.
It was a hot summer, trying to find relief from the heat was not an easy thing to do. I didn't want to be home with my parents. I had no place of my own. Spending most of my days out in the heat. Riding around with friends but trying to preserve gas so a lot of it was spent loitering in parking lots. One particular store in fact, where this raunchy group of people met up for the day to plan the evening events. I was there a lot. Seemed to me more than others. Just waiting,absorbing the heat from the asphalt and smoking cigarettes. We ran that store into the ground. The locals would no longer use it for there gas and conveniences as we always seemed to be there looking grungy and well probably scary. It was our store or so we thought.
I had noticed one day sitting there that this guy came rumbling into the parking lot on a ninja motorcycle followed closely by 4 other guys on the same type of bike. This was something alright. A sight to see. I quickly asked who these people were and was informed that this one guy had purchased all of these bikes for his buddies. He was,i think,17 at the time, not from this town but from an even smaller one down the road. Come to find out he had come into an inheritance and was blowing it faster than anything I had ever seen. Throwing parties and paying for every ones beer and smokes. There was no end to it.
I said that day sitting in the heat on that curb that I needed to meet him and that I needed to introduce him to cocaine. Didn't take long for me to make myself noticed around him and all he wanted was to be cool. Be accepted. I accepted him and we began what would be this life altering journey for the both of us. Using lots of drugs and way too much alcohol. His group consisted of people that I would have never ever considered hanging out with ever. Very Vanilla Ice. I was so far from that but somehow all that didn't matter to me. Dollar signs were floating around in the air and I could smell it.
This was my ticket out of Brenham. My relationship with him and all of his "group" was strictly platonic. They had plenty of girls come and go from that group that were being used up and spit out. What started out as partying quickly became a game of hide and seek from the local police. Always staying in motels for days at a time. We lived in filth. I remember that. What started with drinking a lot quickly turned to smoking pot. A lot. Getting him to accept cocaine was more of a feat. He was very against it, all he knew was that it was bad. Parts of me still to this day feels very remorseful for pushing it. Pushing it into there faces and doing it in front of them making them see that it was not going to hurt them. How naive was I to think it wasn't going to hurt me.
That night he tried it and that was it. Mission accomplished. What I had set out to do and the result of this was exactly what I had planned. First line he was hooked, couldn't get enough. All the huge parties stopped and we were whittled down to a group of about 13-20 depending on the night and sometimes fewer. Living in this small town it didn't take long for the cops to figure out who we were and they had there eye on us. Paranoia was something that became an everyday event. Always on the move. Not trusting anyone new that came into the picture. He did end up getting arrested for being in possession. Got out immediately and we were off. It was time to go somewhere else.
How about Austin? Why not. They seemed to listen to what I had to say because I was older for one and more experienced. Master manipulator is one of the things that comes with being a drug addict. I had learned from the best living in Austin. This had only just begun. Seemed this kid had unlimited amounts of money. We were able to get just about whatever he wanted. At this point in time I was right where I wanted to be. I was high everyday,had zero responsibility and was not hurting for cash. When I say money, most people don't really get it. This kid was left a fortune. Millions, and was allowed to access it at age 16. What were his parents thinking? We blew through thousands of dollars everyday. He was supporting about 13 people. Along with there drug habits.
He bought cars for some of them and the bikes. Once we arrived in Austin we were staying at the Marriott and other hotels splurging on room service for every meal. It was something I could not believe was really happening. We were living like rock stars. They did not know this town and I did. I knew where to get the drugs and quickly stepped up my status in the group. One of the things that needed to change was the amount of people in the group. Thirteen is too many to cart around and keep up with all the time.
There were times when things didn't go too smoothly. We were all on hard drugs day after day and people were bound to get worn down. Not only was our consumption of coke getting up there but we were also dropping acid. Buying it by the sheets of 100 hits. People were starting to drop like flies and heading back to the country. It was intense, and acid in the wrong environment can send you running for the hills. Others were not so lucky and were having seizures. Others were curled up in the fetal position at the end of the bed. Truly gruesome and very much a reality in the drug world. You don't care about others and how they feel. You expect it to wear off,most of the time it did. None of which stopped us from getting on with the days events. Making a pact ,that we all agreed upon, if any of us were to die during one of the marathon drug binges we would drop the body at a dumpster and that was that. It made complete sense at the time.
One particular time I made the ultimate decision to help out one of them, was the one that kept having the seizures. He had another and this time wasn't coming out of it. He dislocated his shoulder in the process of waling around the room in a fit and was hurt and from the looks of it in a lot of pain although he couldn't talk. He just clung to me. I was the only woman in the room. This kid was a friend of mines, little brother. The others wanted to leave, and I remember his dark brown eyes with his pupils dilated to about the size of his iris and how he was pleading with me for help. It was if he had a stroke. No words would come out. I took him and put him in my car drove him to the hospital emergency room and waited. After a while the doctor came out and asked me " Have yall been doing drugs?" Of course I told him "yes" and he said "He is pretty messed up." I remember the look the doctor gave us. It made me feel shame and fear. " He will be staying." the doctor finally told us. I gave them some info about him and we left. I have never seen him again, to this day. I know he is ok and I know he spent about 3 weeks in the hospital after that incident. I know it changed the dynamic of the group. More people went back home and we were left with about 5.
This did not stop us. To the contrary. We never looked back. Although the party was over, the ugly head of addiction was rearing up and about to devour us whole. Money money money. That is all you need to be a drug addict. That and some serious emotional issues that drugs make go away. A deadly combo. My heart is hurting from writing about this. I do have regrets about this. What was wrong with me. Why was I so cold? Where was my heart? Even though I took that kid to the hospital that means nothing. He may have died otherwise. I know that. But, I still feel like a freaking boogie man for getting all this crap for these kids. They were still kids. They were my daughters age. I am ashamed of that. This is something I haven't really thought of before. I have always told these stories.Over and over. Leaving out any of my own responsibility for the mess around me. hmmm...Maybe just maybe I am getting somewhere. I was a lousy person in those days. Self absorbed. Greedy and careless.
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