Cocaine Addiction

I’m not really sure why I’m here talking to you about me –  my name is Julie – everyone calls me Jools – it’s because my brother told me to get a handle on my life – told me I’d better grow up. I’ve never seen him real angry before – not until last week. And I suppose that’s all because of my bankruptcy party – I had a few friends over at my place last week – when I say my place – not any longer – it’s been forclosed by the bank. I guess the party got a bit out of hand – as they often do – can’t see a real problem with that –place has got to be cleaned up anyway by the bank if they expect to sell it.

 But no, I don’t think it was leaving the place in a mess that upset him. Think what was really upsetting my brother was he was ashamed of me for having this bankruptcy party – I thought it was a good idea – I only sort of hinted to people it would be nice if they kinda gave me a few presents at the bankruptcy party – just to help out — only if they wanted to. When my brother found out I had it, he really went through the roof – told me to grow up – said now that I was over thirty surely it was time I started getting some responsibility into my life.

 Well, darling, you know what brothers are – only have your welfare at heart – he means well, says I am dear to his heart – but why don’t I get my life together and finally grow up.

 I dare say he’s also shitty about me using cocaine – just because he has a wife, whose never gone out to work and a couple of kids that he has to work every day at the bank for –  just to keep in clothes and food – not to mention the great big house, and the cars they’ve got – it’s not my fault if he gets jealous of me now and again. I have an enjoyable life, take things easy, at least I did until this thing with Tim’s house.

 Yes, my brother always was saying that I should settle down so he seemed happy when I took up with Timothy – sometimes I even thought that he might be the one that I could settle down with – but life was a party with Tim. I moved out of my rental unit and went to live with Tim. I used to be a secretary – now I do some casual temp work whenever I need money – parents left me and my brother quite comfortable – I suppose with this bankruptcy, I’m going to lose all of that.

 It’s bad luck that I picked Tim of all people – it wasn’t the cocaine – I thought that he was in a steady job but it turned out that he’d only been there a few weeks when I first met him. Later I found out that he got fired from at least two jobs before – nothing was ever done about it – both companies said that he’d been stealing money from them.

 What caused the bankruptcy was quite unfair- we got caught up with this agent who said he could sell Tim’s house, get him another one and Tim would get to make some money out of it. I never did understand exactly what was involved. All I know is that even though I wasn’t working, I had to go on the deeds. Then we had to buy the other house before Tim’s one could sell –eventually Tim’s house was a fire sale, that a friend of the agents picked up – we had to borrow the difference in price or we would lose the lot. We really tried for a while – I even went out to work and tried to make home cooked meals – but we liked to party you know what it’s like with cocaine –it really was more important to both of us than the house.

Then Tim got fired again – that was the end of the repayments on the house – next thing I know he’s left me a note and gone interstate, this time the boss was saying he was going to prosecute –haven’t had a word from Tim this past six months. And now they are going to sell the house –so.…what am I supposed to do – ask the next guy I meet to marry me – make my brother happy, or just go party and do more cocaine.

Shit, I could write a book about the holes I’ve dug for myself. The shit, sad, pitiful  people who I have sat in those holes with. Jingly Jangly Skeletons bimbling around in their sku

My name is Joe. I used to use cocaine. I had an executive position with an international company. I had a Masters in Business – kept myself pretty fit. Had a wife and kids at home – a dutiful wife, obedient kids – never had cause for any concern on the domestic side. Everything in order and under control -I got that right down the line at home and in the company. 

Never was much on socializing – small talk always bored me. I only enjoyed working on projects. Used cocaine socially a while – got in with a group that had some very private parties – that I didn’t mention to the wife. Sometimes I used cocaine when the pressure was on at work. 

Can’t say I had close friends – but that’s the way I liked it. I liked the image of being tough and independent. 

It all came apart when my eldest son got taken to hospital after a car accident. It was touch and go for a while, but then he started recovery. My wife and I were at the hospital – I found we were like strangers, facing each other with no words to say to each other. It felt to me as if my wife was not in need of me – she just sat there like a stone, didn’t speak, didn’t look at me. When the crisis was over, we both drove home in our cars. My wife was facing away from me and wouldn’t turn to speak when we finally got to bed. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know to reach her. 

About six months later, my wife said that she had decided to leave, take the kids and live closer to her family. She thought it would help our eldest boy in his recovery. They were packed up already and would be leaving Friday to stay with her mother for a while until the property got settled. 

I became extremely depressed. I decided to fix the problem by using more cocaine. I was living alone, not really caring about myself. At work I got more and more impatient with the general incompetence around me. At the half yearly performance review there were two people at the table, both more senior than me. 

I suppose they fixed it up that way to make it easier to do. One of them read the riot act, my performance levels had tumbled. He said that I was in line for dismissal. The other then took up a more supportive role. In view of my previous performance, they were willing to allow 6 months or so for me to sort my problems out. I took the money and left. 

Of course it wasn’t easy to get another job – but I hadn’t thought about that. After several weeks and applications, I never got one interview. I used cocaine like never before – and in between I could feel myself becoming more and more depressed. I tried to get over to see my kids, I thought that it might help get some purpose back in my life. I told my wife that I wanted to see my kid’s, but she was very firm. She wanted to know if I had done anything about my problem yet. No way was I going to see the kids until that was sorted out. Well, I never realized that she knew about my addiction. First time she ever mentioned it at all. 

Late one night on internet up came some videos on cocaine – holistic therapy – drug free. It got me wondering, if there was hope, a light at the end of the tunnel. I called them up and did the work. Sometimes it wasn’t easy but I’m now ready for graduation. Soon as that’s done, I’ll call my wife, have a good talk  – and get to see my kid’s.

Christmas comes but once a year – and when it does it brings good cheer. That’s the problem with public holidays and occasions – times when we are supposed to be happy and celebrating something along with the crowd and our family. Times like Christmas can be very hard on someone who’s got problems in their life – someone who’s just managing to cope, like I was some years ago. 

Looking back – I can see it all, and why it turned out wrong. I was just a kid, didn’t know any better. Lived with my Mom – a single mother – if she knew who my father was, she sure ain’t telling me or anyone else. It was when I started school I realized I was different – didn’t have a father. There was only one other kid who didn’t have a Dad – but it turned out that he really did have one but he had been killed in an industrial accident when the boy was only two. That’s what I heard people saying.

 Even though that boy didn’t have a father – people didn’t mind – even though he wasn’t there – people still talked about him. I wasn’t told by my mother what to say – when people asked about my father I kinda mumbled I don’t know – you’ll have to ask my mother. I remember a teacher looking at me – like staring at me with pity. I made up a story about “my Dad”, I didn’t tell my mother – I told everyone that he was away at sea – we didn’t know when to expect him. It got the problem out of the way. I made up my mind quite early – no one was going to pity me.

 So, it was natural that I turned to drugs at an early age – I think I was about 9 when I first sniffed petrol in an alleyway up the back of a neighbor’s fence. It made me sick, can’t believe I went and did it again –somehow got to like it.

I never really bothered much with Mom – I was deep down disgusted – really pissed off that I had to deal with not having any father –everywhere you go seems like people always want to know about your father. I got to not bothering too much about them either –thought they were just nosy shits – always wanting to know about your father. Didn’t help when my Mum took in a bloke that I was supposed to call Dad if I wanted to – or I could call him Pete. Truth to tell I didn’t want to call him anything – didn’t want him in my life.

So, I found a crowd at school that felt pretty much like me – life suck’s. We were blood brothers –used anything to get high – went out and wrote up graffiti – all the usual stuff. Used to get a real buzz writing my tag – cept’ for my driving license –it was the only thing I had.

 I didn’t graduate from school – I guess I kinda dropped out somewhere along the way. Used to do odd jobs and lived in people’s houses. First Christmas Day I was out on my own I wondered about going home but thought there was no point – why go round on Christmas Day when I haven’t seen them for months. I hit up on crack instead.

 It was Christmas when I was 17, that suddenly it hit me that I had no one and was going nowhere. I was walking past the city mission Christmas afternoon – the place was full of street people like me all sitting round a table – pulling crackers and having turkey and cranberry sauce. I didn’t want to go in – I was pretty strung out –but somehow I wanted things in my life to change. It was like I was watching them from the other side of a window that I didn’t know how to get through.

 Next time I saw an outreach worker I didn’t run off as usual and we got talking. I’ve been an outreach worker for about five years now. If can get one kid to sit down and talk about getting off the street – that’s my turkey and cranberry sauce – it’s Christmas Day for me.

I’m still doing management for my anger, guess it runs pretty deep, can’t say there isn’t times when I still want to use.  I’m happy enough, but I’d like to do more for me, maybe have a relationship, have a family. I really need to find a way to let my anger out – perhaps I should try this holistic counseling that I keep hearing about.

I’ve come to you in desperation – I have to lose some weight – I have to have an operation on my back –the pain is killing me – I might not be able to walk – but I can’t have the operation unless I lose some weight. I’ve been overweight for years, ever since I was a child – I’ve tried everything to lose weight but nothing has ever worked.

 I don’t know why I keep on eating like I do. It’s probably got worse in the past three years. I stacked on 60 kilos. I managed to lose it with some gastric banding, but then they took it off me –I was making myself ill – cheating and trying to find ways to get more food inside of me. Doctors say it’s caused by stress, they say I must be depressed. I don’t think I’ve got any more stress than most people that I know.

 I’ve been on every diet there is – starved myself to the bone – but it’s never made me lose any weight – the moment I feel I’ve lost some weight, I feel I need to stack it back on.

 So I got told that this holistic counseling is the way to go, that you can sort the problem out. Tell me what to do. So, come on, tell me – what’s a diet that will work, what do I have to do – I’ve got to lose some weight –if I don’t, I could even die. God, I am frightened to death about what might happen in the future – why can’t I just stop eating – why do I have to eat. I hate myself. I feel disgusted – but I can’t help it. I just have to eat.

 Traumas in my life would only be I suppose that my husband passed away – diagnosed with cancer and buried in 3 months. First thing I did when he passed away was to put the pictures back on the wall of our youngest son. He (my husband) wouldn’t have him spoken of, took his pictures down, It was like our youngest son had never been in our lives at all. Its 3 years to the day since my husband passed away – and that was a year after our son was taken from us. My son passed away from a heart attack – he was only 35. He had 4 kids, my grandchildren, who I never get to see. His wife kicked him out of their house 11 years ago, and told him never come back. Of course he came to me.

 Seven years he stayed with me – I was sort of his carer. He was a drug addict, used everything, but mainly crack cocaine. I suppose I could have done more to help him, but truth be known, he was so angry with me and his father – I don’t know why he kept coming back – he had a room in our home.

 Just before he died I was expecting that he was going to improve himself – he’d gone on a program of rehab and was supposed to be doing well. But I guess he’d already done the damage – and I know he sometimes still used – never knew when he’d be home or what state he’d be in –this went on for seven years.

 I got told when my son died that I’d have to manage my grief – that it was more or less wasted on him – my husband refused to speak our sons name, not once, from the day that he died. I never knew what to do.

 I want to let go of that grief – I’ve tried so hard not to feel it – it’s like a lump inside of me – I think that what I should do for once is to give into my grieving, forget about the food and really get into my feelings.

 You know, the only thing that got me here today was planning to buy some cakes down at the bakery on my way home to give myself a treat, I think I’ve changed my mind – I won’t go buy that food – I’ll go home, make myself a cup of tea, and start to think about my son. That’s what I need – a really good cry and to think about my son. When I’m good and ready – I’ll make something that is healthy for tea.

 Well, talking to you has been good. It seems to have unblocked something in me that’s been making me turn to food. I don’t want food…… hey, saying that makes me feel so relaxed. I want to think about my son. So, thank you for your time – yes, I’m sure I’m on the right track – I can see that stuffing myself with food isn’t doing me any good – it’s a way of holding onto my pain – it’s better I get it out.

I suppose you are wondering how come I am living in another country, under a different name – well, it is all about witness protection – and dealers in cocaine.

 It all started off when I had just left school  – I wanted a life of excitement. The first job I got was as a typist in a shipping office.  I was really bored. Even going out weekends wasn’t that exciting, just the girls from work and the local lads – I knew most of them since they had been pushed around in their prams by their mothers, I’d grown up with them through school. No, what I really wanted was a tall, dark handsome stranger to walk into my life – and whisk me off on horseback into the setting sun.

 Eventually, I saw a job advertised as a receptionist in a gaming club. It was on the east side of town, other side of the Horseshoe Bridge – to me it sounded exciting so I went down for an interview and to my surprise – I was offered the job. Straight away I was in a different world – I needed-a whole new wardrobe to fit in with this nightlife crowd, it was glamorous, alluring to me. I loved the excitement, the tension. The people there you never saw in the day light world. I got used to getting home late and sleeping through the day. I stopped seeing my friends from the “other” world as I got more and more drawn into the night life of the city.

 After a while I got to know the regulars, and who was on good terms with the boss – there were special rooms out back for regulars and high rollers that came in from out of town. I still had this idea that in would walk a handsome stranger – the reality was that I ended up sleeping with the boss.

 I guess in some ways I was a bit naïve – it was a while before I realized that this prim and proper gaming house, that kept in sweet with the law, was nothing but a front for dealing in cocaine. I took a note of who came and went, just by way of interest – it was a hand’s off situation anyway while I was the boss’s mistress. The guys were very respectful – and made sure they kept their distance.

 One evening there was a bit of a buzz – the atmosphere was electric – from what I heard, later that night, the biggest shipment ever was coming in. I was told to do my best to keep order in the club and to keep everything running smoothly until Tony and the boys got back. We had enough security to guard an embassy, so as soon as the boys had gone I just kicked back and added another coat of varnish to my nails.

 It wasn’t until daylight that I felt a rising panic, the boys should be back by now I thought, besides it was the end of my shift over two hours ago. All of the croupiers had gone home. I’d had to close the tables. Getting the last patrons out of the door hadn’t been as easy as it usually seemed to be. When the bartender left, the room went dark. There was just me and one of the guys on security who said that he would wait.

 Well, I finally got my wish – in walked a dark handsome stranger – together with five of his mates – all from the TRG unit of the local Feds – they asked me to accompany them down to central office.

 They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse and I gave such evidence as I could, in a court convened in secrecy in the Federal Court. As from that day, I became known as prosecution witness X.

 So now here I am with a new identity, in this foreign place – sometimes I wake up mornings and I don’t know who I am. Sometimes I get these panic attacks – I think they’ll come after me – sometimes get real nervous about using my new identity. My hands start to shake real bad when I have to sign papers with my new name. On days when I get really tense – I take valium – can’t take the risk of alcohol in case I get confused. It’s a struggle sometimes to remember who I am – I wish I could get out of this lonely city and be back in my home town.