I thought I better go do something functional, but it's after 5 pm and I should know better. Evenings are dysfunctional. The brain weariness hits early on, and the medicinal red wine is prescribed for any time after 5 pm. I'm home alone - Eric is back in good old California - that wonderful place that I used to consider the home of my lost tribe. He went to California last Tuesday so he could go to Andrea's sentencing on Wednesday and say his supportive spiel to the judge. I sent in my 35 page supportive letter the week before.
Andrea was sentenced to a year in jail for spousal abuse and accessory to assault with a deadly weapon. The DA wanted 5 years in the state prison. Even the evil judge thought that was excessive for a first offense. Andrea gets to stay in the nice county jail that she has grown acustomed to these past 4o some days. It almost sounds like summer camp with classes, time outside in the yard to play baskeball and softball....learning to crochet, a lending library and vending machines......
The judge made a big deal over Andrea's drug abuse, even though that wasn't at all what the trial was about. Can a judge do that? She admonished everyone who sent letters of support for not mentioning the drug problem. Eric wasn't allowed to tell her that our attorney had advised us all to stick to the trial issues - VIOLENCE! No! Andrea is (kind of) not a violent person! She is actually innocent of all the charges she was tried for. But guess what! I like the sentence!
She has to attend drug rehab in the jail for 4 months. When she gets out she has to go to rehab again! Then, she gets 5 years probation and if she even looks at somebody involved with drugs or any no-nos she gets sent to the state prison for the 5 years! Is that an incentive to change or what!?! The mean old judge gave Andrea the tough love we couldn't bring ourselves to do for the past 8 years.
Does Andrea understand what this is all about? No way! She is still in the deep caress of denial! Does she need drug rehab? Nope - she thinks she has been off drugs for 6 weeks now so she is cured! She thinks she should be able to get out, have good old mom and dad fork over a few thousand dollars to set her up in yet another nice shiny apartment, fill it with food, and then search the internet for a nice job she can get that requires minimal effort with maximal pay!
As soon as that first paycheck arrived, her brain has been programmed to call John, her number 1 dealer of choice! Good old John! He left her notes of encouragement during her trial - "Good luck today"! He left her notes on the door to her apartment when she was unexpectedly taken to jail instead of being able to go home for that next hook-up with John - "Where are you? Call me. I've got what you need"!! Those kind of encouragements stick with a girl.
Yes, the trial and the judge were in cahoots to block all the past details that led Andrea to the point of making her hillbilly heir husband, Kenneth, mad enough to throw her to the ground outside her apartment when she tried to leave. When her new buddy Mike heard her yell that she was being hurt, he bolted to her rescue, scuffled with Kenneth and maybe bopped him on the head a few times with a skateboard when Kenneth refused to give up Mike's backpack he had grabbed. Poor old Kenneth. Laying in the fetal position on the sidewalk with blood running down his head. Police came, and guess who was arrested!?! Ding ding ding ding ding! Yes! The victim of years of mental, emotional, and physical abuse was arrested on charges of spousal battery and accessory to assault with a deadly weapon (a skateboard). Kenneth played it to the hilt - oh yeah.......he was a wiley coyote!
So anyway - the point is, I can't do anything functional after 5 pm. Except if its on the computer. Sometimes I can heat something in the microwave for dinner, but don't expect much more than that. That's my bad. I know I should change. But so far I haven't. Is that inherited????????
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Dirty Dishes in a Drug Addict's Apartment
Okay, so I'm not sleepy tired - just bone weary brain hurting tired. It's hard to shut the brain down enough to get sleepy tired. Especially at night.
Yay! I emptied the dishwasher and put half the dirty dishes in! I picked up the garlic peeler thing that fell out of a cupboard and has been on the kitchen floor for about 5 days. I can reward my strong work ethic with more time in front of the computer! Yay!
Actually I'm a little bit more sensitive to dirty dishes since I went to Berkeley the end of October. My husband, Eric, and I had to go do the save the family thing again. My daughter Andrea is in jail. This came as quite a shock that day in October when she was found guilty of 2 felonies and was put in jail until sentencing. No time to go home and feed the cats! No time to go home and shoot up one last time!
We went to save her cats. She has 3 cats and they were alone in the apartment and mommy was in jail. We flew across the country to save her cats. I wonder what happens to all the cats and dogs and fish and birds and guinea pigs that live with people who are sent to jail. Judges don't seem to care.
We also wanted to save some of her stuff, since she was being evicted from her apartment. We knew it would be a mess since that is definitely an inherited trait, but I didn't know it would make me cry at what her life had turned into.
The kitchen - this is the part about dishes. Her tiny little apartment kitchen was piled high in dirty dishes with rotted food and mold and growths, with gnats circling like vultures. I had ordered her food the week before and she had wanted paper plates. Much easier than washing dishes!
The dining area - a small square table in a corner with 2 folding chairs. The table was piled high with mail never gone through. The main purpose of this table was obviously not to eat on, but to sit with a buddy and mix up stuff, heat it in a spoon with 40 packs of matches, and then shoot that instant forget reality tonic into your arm, leg, toe, finger, hip...anywhere there's not too much scar tissue.
On to bedroom number 1 - Ah! The harvest room! Andrea got one of those great California prescriptions for medical marijuana. She got her own baby plants to nurture and love and tenderly urge to maturity. The babies grew up and yielded a bountiful crop! Huge stalks and piles of leaves were being sorted into ziplock bags. For medicinal use? Nah - not with the profit you could turn (which was carefully calculated on multiple envelopes and pieces of paper around the apartment), which could be spent on the GOOD STUFF! Boy, if I could only get this on the plane and take it home and sell it to get back some of the thousands of dollars spent to keep Andrea safe and sound in this apartment!
Okay, bedroom number 2 - Ah! The GOOD STUFF room. Half of the room was piled with a mix of dirty and clean clothes, including brand new with tags things I had sent with her in September after a visit to good old home. I am talking PILED! Let's say an area about 12 feet by 10 feet by 2 feet high - clothes, shoes, towels, papers - oh.....and needles!
Needles needles everywhere, and not a drop to drink. And boy could I have used a mug of red wine at this point. Yes, I cried. I cried at the intensity of her addiction. I cried because one desk drawer was packed full of empty prescription bottles for buprenorphin - the nice alternative to methadone for stopping urges for heroin. She had had her cake and eaten it too!
At least the kind folks in Berkeley thought about the possible health problems that might be caused from using dirty needles. There was a nice big box of brand new individually wrapped hypodermic needles, courtesy of some shoot 'em up safe clinic. There were even two bioharzard containers for used needles! How thoughtful that she had filled both containers before randomly tossing used needles all over the room. Let me just venture a guess - oh I'd say maybe I picked up 120 or so used needles on the floor, under the bed, mixed in the clothing, on nightstands, in the closet..... I was on a quest to get every last needle and tiny piece of cotton used to strain that magic juice through! I didn't want to leave any evidence that might get good old Andrea in trouble!
I'm on a roll! But then I've had my mug of red wine and started my second!
What else does one find in a drug addict's GOOD STUFF room? Well, I found lots of little metal thingies that I still don't know what they are. I found empty condom wrappers and empty packs of morning after pills. I found her birth certificate and pictures she had drawn and letters and CDs and tapes and brochures and advertisements for musical groups and raves in the bay area. I found half-eaten food and trash and empty water bottles. Boy I had a lot to do to sort the saves from the save-nots in the 3 days I had in Berkeley!
Yay! I emptied the dishwasher and put half the dirty dishes in! I picked up the garlic peeler thing that fell out of a cupboard and has been on the kitchen floor for about 5 days. I can reward my strong work ethic with more time in front of the computer! Yay!
Actually I'm a little bit more sensitive to dirty dishes since I went to Berkeley the end of October. My husband, Eric, and I had to go do the save the family thing again. My daughter Andrea is in jail. This came as quite a shock that day in October when she was found guilty of 2 felonies and was put in jail until sentencing. No time to go home and feed the cats! No time to go home and shoot up one last time!
We went to save her cats. She has 3 cats and they were alone in the apartment and mommy was in jail. We flew across the country to save her cats. I wonder what happens to all the cats and dogs and fish and birds and guinea pigs that live with people who are sent to jail. Judges don't seem to care.
We also wanted to save some of her stuff, since she was being evicted from her apartment. We knew it would be a mess since that is definitely an inherited trait, but I didn't know it would make me cry at what her life had turned into.
The kitchen - this is the part about dishes. Her tiny little apartment kitchen was piled high in dirty dishes with rotted food and mold and growths, with gnats circling like vultures. I had ordered her food the week before and she had wanted paper plates. Much easier than washing dishes!
The dining area - a small square table in a corner with 2 folding chairs. The table was piled high with mail never gone through. The main purpose of this table was obviously not to eat on, but to sit with a buddy and mix up stuff, heat it in a spoon with 40 packs of matches, and then shoot that instant forget reality tonic into your arm, leg, toe, finger, hip...anywhere there's not too much scar tissue.
On to bedroom number 1 - Ah! The harvest room! Andrea got one of those great California prescriptions for medical marijuana. She got her own baby plants to nurture and love and tenderly urge to maturity. The babies grew up and yielded a bountiful crop! Huge stalks and piles of leaves were being sorted into ziplock bags. For medicinal use? Nah - not with the profit you could turn (which was carefully calculated on multiple envelopes and pieces of paper around the apartment), which could be spent on the GOOD STUFF! Boy, if I could only get this on the plane and take it home and sell it to get back some of the thousands of dollars spent to keep Andrea safe and sound in this apartment!
Okay, bedroom number 2 - Ah! The GOOD STUFF room. Half of the room was piled with a mix of dirty and clean clothes, including brand new with tags things I had sent with her in September after a visit to good old home. I am talking PILED! Let's say an area about 12 feet by 10 feet by 2 feet high - clothes, shoes, towels, papers - oh.....and needles!
Needles needles everywhere, and not a drop to drink. And boy could I have used a mug of red wine at this point. Yes, I cried. I cried at the intensity of her addiction. I cried because one desk drawer was packed full of empty prescription bottles for buprenorphin - the nice alternative to methadone for stopping urges for heroin. She had had her cake and eaten it too!
At least the kind folks in Berkeley thought about the possible health problems that might be caused from using dirty needles. There was a nice big box of brand new individually wrapped hypodermic needles, courtesy of some shoot 'em up safe clinic. There were even two bioharzard containers for used needles! How thoughtful that she had filled both containers before randomly tossing used needles all over the room. Let me just venture a guess - oh I'd say maybe I picked up 120 or so used needles on the floor, under the bed, mixed in the clothing, on nightstands, in the closet..... I was on a quest to get every last needle and tiny piece of cotton used to strain that magic juice through! I didn't want to leave any evidence that might get good old Andrea in trouble!
I'm on a roll! But then I've had my mug of red wine and started my second!
What else does one find in a drug addict's GOOD STUFF room? Well, I found lots of little metal thingies that I still don't know what they are. I found empty condom wrappers and empty packs of morning after pills. I found her birth certificate and pictures she had drawn and letters and CDs and tapes and brochures and advertisements for musical groups and raves in the bay area. I found half-eaten food and trash and empty water bottles. Boy I had a lot to do to sort the saves from the save-nots in the 3 days I had in Berkeley!
Random Thoughts of Exhaustion
Life has turned into a battlefield - my emotions, senses, brain are all on hyper alert mode. Exhaustion has set in - adrenal exhaustion.
What do you do when everyone in the world is an idiot, is lazy, is evil, has lost their sense of compassion, of humanity? Sometimes I feel like I am the only one with the bravado to point this out to everyone. Am I insane? Am I the only one who didn't get the message that the universe was speeding up and turning inside out?
I'm so tired of fighting with my family and for my family. I'm so tired of fighting for what is right in a world gone wrong. I need a nap. I need a good night's sleep. I need to figure out what went wrong.
What do you do when everyone in the world is an idiot, is lazy, is evil, has lost their sense of compassion, of humanity? Sometimes I feel like I am the only one with the bravado to point this out to everyone. Am I insane? Am I the only one who didn't get the message that the universe was speeding up and turning inside out?
I'm so tired of fighting with my family and for my family. I'm so tired of fighting for what is right in a world gone wrong. I need a nap. I need a good night's sleep. I need to figure out what went wrong.
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