Cocaine Addiction

The East end of London has produced some characters, few as notorious as the twin brothers Kray, but in my opinion who takes the cake for twin brothers, both with criminal minds, is a twin that I was was in service with, as a professional butler, and his twin brother who lived in the North – that were both into dealing cocaine.

Now, I was not a part of it, that needs to be understood. I am a traditional, professional butler, although with four employers over the past 10 years, I am in touch with modern trends. No lifetime service for me, on some impoverished farming estate, I go after temporary positions, go where the money is. Saw Archie’s ad in The Times and applied for the position – looked me up and down just once, and offered me the job.

I became the domestic manager, resident in the home of Archie the younger twin, who I knew to be a successful used car dealer – indeed a sign of the times. What impressed me most of all was that Archie was not tight with his money -most millionaires I’ve been in service with are downright parsimonious – like Archie’s older twin brother, Nev – who never once paid me or the hired staff a cent by way of gratuity, that we expected as our due.

Archie drove the latest Porsche. Not one to be tied down with a wife, Archie had a string of very expensive girlfriends, and enjoyed a flutter on the ponies once or twice a week. It wasn’t long before I realized the car dealership was a front – Archie had moved on and upward, and was into dealing drugs, in particular cocaine that he and his brother imported.

Nev was a different character altogether – was into martial arts – used his heavily guarded property in the North to store and distribute cocaine. I never went with Archie when he visited his brother – his brother never entertained. I noticed that Nev didn’t smoke or drink, gamble or use women, as a butler you learn to observe. What still amazes me in this job is how people will keep on talking and using as if a domestic servant in the room has neither eyes nor ears. Within six months there was nothing I did not know about Archie and Nev’s drug ops, the complications, the pressure, the constant need to retain control.

I heard from his driver that Nev had a gun collection that filled up several rooms, kept several guns in the car and that occasional trap shooting was Nevin’s only recreation – not that he had much spare time with a million dollar a week cocaine drug op to control with help from Archie and his connections. The driver was buying several apartments for his retirement on the strength of the money Nev paid him – and that was just for driving. Nev was making a couple of thousand a kilo – he was cutting the coke real fine. As for me, well yes, I was banking wages, living off the tips that I got for being discrete and making sure that Archie’s guests were provided with whatever they wanted.

At the height of their empire, Archie had houses in Ireland, France and Majorca – if he hadn’t got busted most likely he would have gotten his own plane. It was a challenge for me to be sent to a house a few days ahead to get it ready for a party – Archie and friends would fly in and expect everything to be perfect. With money no problem, I never had any trouble getting exactly what I needed from the locals. Archie’s house parties were legend – lasted for over a week at a time- fueled by cocaine and alcohol, the best parties that money could buy. I was addicted to the personal power that working for Archie gave me – but otherwise kept my nose clean.

It’s the little things that trip you up, and in all of the multi-million dollar operation between Archie and Nev they only made one mistake. Gordon, the usual courier that brought in the coke from ships sea anchored in international waters, had the misfortune one day to get shot. Nev needing to get a consignment ashore in a hurry, decided to do it himself, using Gordon’s boat and a couple of trusted locals.

Gordon would normally have brought in the coke using two or three trips – but Nev didn’t have Gordon’s cool. He told the boys he wanted it all brought in as a single load – Gordon’s boat was gunnel’s under and looked likely to capsize by the time Nev had loaded up. And he might have got away with it, got the load to the waiting vehicles if only a little breeze had not sprung up and someone had not made the mistake of fueling up the boat’s petrol engine with diesel.

Dead in the water and ready to sink Gordon’s pride and joy capsized, throwing Nev and his mates overboard and into the sea. Treading water and surrounded by over a hundred sealed packages of coke, bobbing around in the waves, Nev heard the unmistakable sound of the local air sea rescue service, coming in over head.

The end of my dream job and employment. Now I’m sitting here with you, polishing waterford crystal for Commander and  Mrs Leighton whose only involvement in the drug scene is an occasional glass of dry sherry. Nothing like the glamor and excitement of party life with Archie, but perhaps it is for the best. Thanks to Archie I’ve already got more than enough to retire on whenever I like. Any more and who knows but I might have started to feel the dull pangs of a guilty conscience about the way I was earning my money.

I am sitting home on a Friday afternoon in my robe after calling in to my work on Monday that my Mom is in the hospital.  I have intelligently lied everyday to make it believable that my Mom needed to have an angioplasty, even adding on Thursday that there were complications.  I didn’t plan on being out all week, but went with it and no one has any clue that it was made up, so why not?  Except that I feel like shit.  I’m sure that if I didn’t have cocaine in the house that this would not have happened.  It’s not that we normally don’t have cocaine, we do and normally this kind of thing doesn’t happen, but it seems that I have now reached a new low and I feel ashamed, yet still slough it off as temporary as I usually report to work responsibly (for the most part).  However, I am really questioning my future, well-being and feel like such a loser!

I do pride myself on how well I get out of the messes I create, but it’s really starting to get on my nerves and wearing me down.  For years now I’ve been tackling all issues very well as I’ve taken that role, whether money problems or  normal daily life, but now I’m starting to really feel out of control.  If I were to apply this gift of coordination to things that would benefit me I would be amazing and happier…   They say that cocaine causes depression and I think that that is what is happening.  F—!! What have I done?

People like me and I’ve always made friends wherever I go.  My mother considers me her favorite child of 6 and my mother-in-law thinks I’m a Godsend.  I’m well liked at work and am always complimented with being the best at _______.  When I was in school I was an honor student, involved in sports and dancing, able to hang out with the good and wrong crowd and can adapt to any situation.  I’m genetically blessed with a youthful look at 43 and my husband and I still play like teenagers (obviously).  I love riding my R1 sport bike and get a high off of that thinking that I’m so talented and awesome.  I think that cocaine is part of the risky life that I live and crave.

Except now I don’t want to do anything…which is why I’m posting this.  I have no motivation which doesn’t make sense with my personality.  I feel like giving up, yet I want to make a change then don’t want to do anything again….

I’ve been trying to think about how long my husband and I have been doing blow now and it seems that it’s been since we met, 23 years ago.  It’s been recreational, weekends here and there.   Somehow (I hate to even look at it) we’ve felt entitled to get it once or twice a week for about 10 or more years now.  We feel that it’s normal to us and that we function normally.

It’s been a slow road to how I feel now. My image is important to me, yet I’ve done nothing to improve my life as I’m sure it would have been very different if it weren’t for cocaine.  I have no idea if that without cocaine I would have had children.  I’m sure that many of the choices I’ve made would have been different.  Both my husband and I always think that we should stop, but never seem to feel the same way at the same time, which gives us the excuse to get more….  After just unexpectedly going to the hospital for what I though was appendicitis, I had to have a full hysterectomy due to being diagnosed with early stage of ovarian cancer and feel lucky to be alive.  But apparently not enough alive to stop partying.  This is depressing…

The (not so) funny thing is that after doing blow and drinking beer all day today, I will act like I went to work today (as my husband assumes I’ve done all week), act totally normal and pull it off successfully!  I’m tired of these shenanigans.  I don’t want to do this anymore and am so tired of doing this just to “survive”.

After reading other posts, I see a common trait of perfectionists.  However, after consuming cocaine regularly for so many years, I’m sure I must have altered who I am and what I could have been…not so perfect.

Damn you cocaine!  Damn you!!!!  You’re ruining me……

I’m Dave and want to tell you about my good mate Mick who died the other week – so tragic him taken so young – still in the prime of his life. Saw young Mick grow up through school, son of neighbors in my street. He got to be one of the regulars down at the pub where I spent many a night – never got myself a wife, never had no family – Mick and me we got sort of close – like he was a surrogate son or a younger brother.

Saw Mick go out and do a lot of part time jobs, got seasonal work when he could, sometimes we went out fishing together – shared some fish for tea. Called over some mates to help eat the fish, washed down with a few cans of beer – guess in those days we had no worries.

Then I didn’t see so much of Mick, he got more into the party scene with his younger mates – word was the young blokes had got a taste for partying with cocaine, and Mick told me himself that he’d got fond of the coke and was using every weekend. Then Mick tells me he wants to get a life for himself – went and studied to get a private pilot’s license – it was a big celebration in the front bar the day that Mick got his pilot’s licence. Not long after Mick let me know that he was going away to America – he wanted to fly helicopters. They had the training and plenty of work – Mick got his green card, shouted the bar room farewell – and was gone off to America to do crop dusting and fly helicopters.

Meanwhile I got on with my life – drinking away my time – guess I found it easy to more ambitious for Mick than I was for myself. After my parents died, I was alone in the house, I guess I was depressed about having no one around – started drinking more by myself at home – my mates from the pub were complaining it was like I’d become a recluse. And with the folk’s money, I didn’t need to work – I got into drinking real heavy.

One day I’d been drinking solid for a day or so, woke up with this god awful pain in my guts – like there was a fire in my belly. Called the doctor – said I couldn’t get in – they sent an ambulance to take me round to the hospital. I spent a lot of time in a detox ward – they really were concerned. Once they had scrubbed me up and dried me out, I didn’t feel a whole lot better. Then the doctor delivered the cruncher – no more alcohol for me if I wanted to see a day past 40. Of course I didn’t stop, thought I’d take it easy.

Got away with it for a few years, then it came back and bit me. Same detox to get dried out and then I was back at home – spending each day thinking about whether or not to risk the bottle, and missing my mates at the pub. Then into my mournful existence comes a phone call from Mick – he’s coming back from America and wants to stay with me.

First night back he tells me he’s done with flying the whirlybirds, some kind of incident – something to do with him using cocaine and having passengers on a flight – anyhow Mick was back, and told him of my plight – I was that happy to see Mick back – I didn’t drink that night. However, after a week, I fell into temptation and went on a bender with Mick that lasted most of the night, and Mick was using cocaine.

Next afternoon I looked myself in a mirror and was startled to see that I had turned completely yellow – eyes, and fingernails, my skin looked sallow and yellow – and by god, it itched.  Mick took me to the doctor, said he had to split, somehow I knew he wouldn’t be back – I never was a druggie, and I could see that Mick had a hell of a big cocaine habit.

Mick got digs far end of town, and occasionally I would visit, sometimes he would have his dealer there, sometimes friends doing lines. I could see he was going downhill, but who was I to talk. Later on there was a couple of cocaine overdoses in town, due to some new pure blow, and I was worried for Mick – pleaded with him to be careful, do a test on every dose, split the dose in half.  Mick just looked indifferent – said David what the fuck you care – we’re all on a one way trip – get it sooner or later. It was sort of sad, I wished he’d not come back.  I liked to think of him out there in America flying the ‘copters and planes – now he’d come down to living in some dirty room, not caring if he lived or died.

And die he did, a few weeks later – an overdose of cocaine – I was glad I wasn’t there to see it. A few people from the town at the funeral to pay their last respects.  I paid up for a decent funeral, I felt that I owed it to Mick. We put all of Mick’s flying manuals into the casket with him – it seemed like the right thing to do.

It might sound paradoxical, even a little bit crazy, but the reason I started and stayed with cocaine is that it made me feel pure and free – like I’d be the “boss” of something. I didn’t ever use cocaine until I was quite a bit older – before that I used to hang out weekends, stay out all night if I could, with kids into dope, alcohol – yes, nothing like dope and alcohol – it kept my sanity while I stayed on at home, not knowing what to do.

Of course you don’t know at the time exactly what you’re into – so deep. Perhaps its more like you wonder what’s gotten into you. Ha, yes – I’ve been to counseling – for truancy from school. One day I told the counselor what Jim had been doing. That’s where I learned paradoxical – yeah, I like that word a lot.

This counselor explained to me that incest – yes, that’s what it was – yes, I am an incest survivor – more power to the coke – is paradoxical because the victim feels guilty about it. Yes, the more I got to remember, tell the counselors about, the more they said, poor thing, it must have been so terrible for you. Just keep focused on how it was not your fault, and you’ll soon start feeling better.

But I think they thought it was really my fault as it came up now and again about whether the case would be prosecuted. Always they ended up saying no evidence. I had to be protected – the lawyers these days get them off by telling juries to be careful – it could be revenge, or false memories – it was never beyond all reasonable doubt that it ever happened. And I had doubts all the time, not that it happened – it did – but that it would never have happened if I had not been the cause of it. That’s probably what they meant by saying they were trying to protect me. In any case, Jim stopped completely when I got sent to counseling, so it wasn’t a problem any more.

They sent me on a makeover course – all about wearing make up and clothes in a fashionable way – life skills they call it. I got to see all these fancy ways I could dress – scooped out neck lines, fancy jewelry – fancy hair do’s. But that was not for me – I never changed from wearing trackies and t shirts – with an oversized jumper, summer and winter. I was the model once for the class – they put make up, clothes on me, fixed my hair – everyone said amazing. But as I looked in the mirror – all I could hear was a voice in my head – whore whore – you whore – you get those clothes off right now.

They sent me to learn about typing and stuff – so I could work in an office – the first day was great – I liked being able to type out words, see them come up on the screen but then I got to thinking how it would be in an office with people talking all day – how would I keep my secret, soon everyone would know. My stomach clenched into a knot, the back of my throat clamped tight – I couldn’t focus on the training – never went back for the rest of the course. I got scolded by my counselor. Said if I didn’t co-operate, I would be expelled off the course but that’s what I wanted anyway – I didn’t like being on it.

The day I turned 16, I told my mum I was leaving – I’d already fixed a place to stay, downtown with some mates – and that’s where I got into coke, blow, snow call it what you will – snorting up that delicious stuff is like a dose of purity going into me. I always feel really sad after doing coke that life couldn’t be like that all the time. Somehow it doesn’t matter when I chase a few lines that those things ever happened to me.

My mother is still with him, you know that? Totally in denial. He just says I’m a little bitch, trying to make trouble, and goes back to the bottle. Mum could do so much better than him – she really ought to go, but she stays on, goes out to work to keep him.

So, that is pretty much all there is of me – snow white living on snow lights, and so ashamed and unclean. Some of the girls are on the game – they get a lot of money being under age. It’s tempted me but I won’t go down to no man – not ever – besides I ain’t no whore – no matter what he said. But then maybe it is true, that I gave him the come on – perhaps I did and didn’t know that I was doing it – that’s the doubt I have every day.

It must have been me the instigator – that’s another counselor word I like – I was the instigator or else why would he have been so bothered about us getting into trouble – so much trouble he said there would be if I ever breathed a word about what he was doing to me – or what I was doing to him I mean. I was the one who would get into trouble if anything came out.

So, give me the rundown on this purification – sorry, I didn’t mean to joke – I am seriously interested in getting clean – sorting my problems out. I don’t care what I have to do. Tell me more about this detox – I just want to feel pure.

Cousin Charlie had been a dealer ever since he’d gone to school – traded marbles, bottle tops, anything you will. Charlie was my cousin, two years younger than me, and Charlie was my darlin’ – I loved him like a brother, Charlie was kind, but Charlie was shrewd – knew the value of a dollar. Soon he was down at the Lane – helping grandfather with his barrow – odds and sods and kitchen stuff – nothing much more than a dollar.

Charlie would drop by on his way to where ever he went of an evening – swell headed with pride and pockets bulging – grandfather would give him some of the dollars that the customers spent. Everyone said that Charlie had a good head for figures, that he should be an accountant , but as soon as he could he dropped out of school – went and worked on grandfathers barrow.

I remember once how  I had flowers, a lovely great big bunch that Charlie happened to see. He eyed the flowers professionally, said that’s a fine bunch of flowers you’ve got. – someone would pay big money for those down at the market. I felt like saying hey, this bunch of flowers isn’t about money – don’t spoil it, but decided not to bother.

Then I started courting strong with Terry. We set up a flat and got married in the May – with a little bub on the way. So, I didn’t see much of Charlie for months and next thing I heard he’d got a job as a stockbrokers runner. I heard the money was good for a lad with no trade behind him. Charlie was quick, and Charlie was keen – kept his ear to the wind. I heard he was doing pretty well for himself picking up on tips and nudges, making money out of investments.

We all went to Charlie’s wedding to Sharna – best do I had ever been to.  Charlie was by now quite seriously rich – which was good – but I felt out of my depth. I was glad enough to go back to our flat with Terry – the wedding was like something out of a movie – the flat was my comfort zone. Terry said he had heard round the traps that Charlie was doing cocaine. I said maybe, but maybe he’s not – it’s just something that people might say that are envious of his money. Our family was not into drugs at all.

Then it was on the news that Charlie had launched a takeover bid, and got himself a handle on big business. Now Charlies kids were in private school, and Charlie jetted around the world.

We met up with family one Christmas – Charlie looked haggard and worn – wasn’t much for conversation. By evening he was hitting the bottle. Presents for everyone but they looked formal, like they had been wrapped by the shop. This wasn’t the cheeky, bubbly Charlie I knew, with his pockets overflowing with dollars. Later I saw Charlie go off to the bathroom with a calculated look in his eye. When he came back I just knew it was true – his eyes looked darker, less bloodshot and he looked relaxed and content like he hadn’t been during the day.

Time went by, a big company made Charlie an offer for his business that he couldn’t refuse – Charlie sold out and became a cashed up millionaire. Should have been bliss, but straight  away Sharna took the kids and left Charlie for her personal trainer.

I felt sad for Charlie so I called him up – got so that he would call round to our place for dinner, when ever he was in town. One time it looked like he’d really hit the pits – he looked unwashed, unclean. I said Charlie -what’s gone wrong – you’re retired, a millionaire – I don’t get why you’re not happy. I’m doing coke said Charlie, might as well let you know – coke’s the only thing – apart from you – that I’ve got going for me. Must be costing you a dollar I said and Charlie laughed – costing me more than most, it’s hard to get street prices when they know you’re a millionaire.

I said Charlie you’ve got to get rehab – it’s making you look ill. Yeah, said Charlie last time I went to the doc, that’s exactly what he said – reckons the amount of cocaine I use is putting a strain on my heart.

What you need is another wife I told Charlie quite bluntly, but Charlie wasn’t interested – the run around I got from Sharna has put me off women for life. Well you’ll have to do something, I blurted out – you can’t go on this way.

Look said Charlie; I can see that I’m taking up you time, I think I had better go. From the door I watched him go down the stairs – a broken down unhappy man – with a million dollars in the bank.

I never saw Charlie again, he passed away a few months later. Some said he died of cocaine overdose, some say he died of depression and misery. People at the funeral said Charlie been so depressed that all of the money that he had in the bank didn’t make any difference.

Sometimes I remember Charlie, pockets full of dollars and it makes me cry. Try as I might, I can’t figure out what exactly went wrong.

At the time I was twenty one. I had been drinking and smoking weed for about three or four years. I had been offered cocaine a few times but I was just too nervous to try it. I had heard horror stories about it and was just scared. But one night I was at a huge party being thrown for my good friend who was fixing to go to basic training in the army. This friend was the one who had offered coke to me before. He was a good guy, but he wouldnt admit that he loved coke. I didnt know the extent of his addiction until I started using. But on this night at the party almost everyone there as walking around all fast and talking and sniffing. I began to realize that everyone pretty much was snorting coke. About midnight my buddy waved me to the back room at the place we were at. When I got back there I saw him and a few other guys, and I saw them cutting lines out. I had been around it before but just had never tried it. He asked me did I want to do some and at first I said that I was good, but I had been drinking for a while and with a little junk talking I agreed to try it. Worst mistake of my life. I had heard that if a person loved coke the first time they tried it that they better stay away from because that was a clear sign that person had an addictive personality. I did like weed but honestley I was not hooked on it. I had friends that couldnt go a day without smoking and that just wasnt me. But anyway they cut me a line out and I snorted it. After about a minute or so it hit me, and when it did it was like no other feeling that I had ever felt. I was walking around and just felt like I was the man. I felt like I was the center of attention and that I couldve done anything that night. But as you know after about 15 minutes it started wearing off, and I wanted more. To make a long story short, that night I ended up buying about 100 dollars worth, and it was only my first time. But that first time feeling hooked me right threw the lip, and after that first line I was then and there on the ride. That was my breaking point where I gave into something and I immediatley started suffering from it. I didnt know it at the time, but that was the begininning of my downward spiral. I wasnt a perfect kid but I definatley didnt have a serious problem with drugs, but after that night I did. I didnt do coke after that night for a month or so. I eventually met someone who sold it and I wanted to try again so I bought some from him. After the second time it was a few weeks before the third. Then after that it was a week, and you know where this going. Before I knew it I was spending 50 or 60 dollars almost everyday. Ive been using coke now for a little over a year, and my life has done a 180 degree turned for the worst. For the last few months Ive been buying it with my money but for a while if I was broke I would con family members out of money or pawn things. I one point I was even stealing. But sorry this story is kinda of long, but everything that people warn us about cocaine is absolutley true. It ruins peoples life and there is no gain from using coke. The onlything that happens is a decline either in your morals, or health, or both. So my message to the ones who has never tried it would be to stay as far away as possible. If I would have known how my life was going to be now, you couldnt have payed me a millon dollars to do it. And the sad thing is that the more you do it the more you hate it, but because of the power and control that, that white little substance has, you keep using until you finally make your mind up to quit. and for me quitting would mean Id have to get help and I sadly I havent yet. Ive told myself Id do it on my own, and I have been saying that for six months now and still use almost 4 or 5 times a week. So please just stay away. I dont think any drug is good for your body or mind but if you are going to do one, smoke weed, because i promise weed has nothing on cocaine.