Today was a day. It was a day with no drugs. It was a day with a lot of rain. It was a day with a lot of wind.
A day in the life of the ex junky.
Got up, did some computer stuff, ate, fed, farted, showered… Went and did some really boring mundane stuff.
Then went and took my daughters bike to the free bike workshop place. And left it there. She is too big for it now anyway.
But that doesn’t explain why I deleted all my photos of her from my smart phone backdrops. I now realise that the photos of her in the living room near the computer have all been covered up or knocked over. And I have not picked them up again.
Being a Dad was once very important. It is now a bitter resentment. I am beginning to think I was a “being a Dad addict”. Really, I did myself and society harm by ignoring my needs in order to be a Dad. Shit isn’t it?
It felt good walking in the horizontal rain to drop off her old bike. Even with everything that was going on, I was keeping the bike to hand over to her Mum for her other little half sisters. My spiritual advisor pointed out to me that they would probably never use it. Their dog is never let out the yard. They don’t really go running or bike riding together. Shame really. I would if I was them. But then I would be afraid of turning into a Dad addict again.
Started turning around to walk home and then figured there was an N.A.zi meeting down the road three or four blocks. So went down there.
Must have been very late as it was closing when I got there. A couple of people were friendly, but the guy who runs that meeting is a fuck wit and hit my shin with a chair as he was moving chairs around. He really is a self centred idiot. He just stood there holding the tin out expecting someone to stop what they were doing and take it from him. He could have just reached over and put it down, but just held the tin like people are there to serve him. I would love to serve him. Violently.
Another guy who is always clean for one or two days showed up again. I said hello, but he was too busy talking with people who don’t know he is always one day away from using. Saying all the right N.A.zi doctrine crap to fit in. I was a bit annoyed actually. He was ubber friendly when I saw him last. But now he is either “too cool” or is hiding behind a mask of bullshit… The wind beneath my wings was fading fast. I had found turbulence. Was not enjoying it at all.
This Wednesday meeting was the first group I attended. I liked it then. I thought the more mature group was excellent. Now I see them as pretentious assholes. Especially the guy who just stood there expecting people to do his bidding. What a cock. Then I tried tidying up the chairs at the end, but everyone was standing around, so I gave up as they were in the way. Then he decides to move a chair and hits my shin with it.
If people in N.A are clean and preach like a fucken tv evangelist, the least they can do is walk the walk once in a while.
I just see self centred assholes everywhere.
I have not been going to meetings much lately. Went to half of Fridays and then one on Sunday afternoon and then the last ten minutes of Wednesday (tonight’s)… I will have to make sure I go to this meeting more. Fuck them and their up themselves clean time bullshit.
But then a few good people ask how I am. This allows me to leave with dignity intact, give S’ a hug, talk some shit with N’ and M’ loudly and laughingly. I share with N’ that Sarge said he was fat and sat at home watching downloaded movies whilst eating doughnuts all day and that he should stop getting lifts to meetings and learn to walk. Sarge, by the way, said no such thing. Hahahhaha.
I had a nice day otherwise. Other than fifteen minutes of my life spent listening to fuckwits in N.A tell me that they are better than me. And you as it happens. Hell, that guy is better than Van Gogh and Elvis rolled into one. According to himself, of course.
I went to the soup kitchen and got a nice lunch. $1.50 for a macaroni cheese thing with lettuce and stuff on the side. These guys get better fed than I manage for myself. Real vitamins. My body just about went into shock. I was last in line, but first finished. The soup kitchen lady looked at me and handed me a yoghurt and muesli donated by a local cafe. It was good paying her the fifty cents I had not paid years and years ago. They had long ago forgotten, as had I. But then, make amends. One must.
Had a little chat to old skinhead mate who does far too much legal psych meds for his own good. Is hard seeing people like that. Behind that glaze there is a bright and motivated man. Today I just saw glaze. His skin was taught and impossibly smooth. He has been put on methadone to try stop him from using benzo’s… Hope it works for him.
Saw the old returned services guys with PTSD and addiction issues. They were talking loudly about how our country used to be “choice bro” before the idiots started selling everything to pay for nothing.
They have a good point, and I tell them as much, even if their macaroni and cheese was forming ballistic paths as they said it.
I took my leave and visited a second hand record shop. Found three original records my Dad engineered in the sixties and seventies. The shop owner looked my Dad up on Discogs.com and we had a bit of a yarn about old music industry crap. Got a couple of free coffee’s. It was 1pm and that was my ninth and tenth coffee for the day. A guy from N.A whom happens to be studying addiction at University walks in. We have a bit of a yarn about addictions. I try telling him about the Globalization of Addiction publication. He looks at me as though I know nothing. I leave.
I walk to Sarge’s new tattoo shop (closet) down the street. We sit there talking shit and laughing loudly for a while. Amazingly he gets a customer. This is a first. I have not seen this before. I leave before the jug boils on another cup of coffee and go buy some seeds for the garden.
Talk to the girl at the garden shop for a while. Have not seen her for a long time. Do not tell her my sister died or that I gave up drugs again. She asks how my daughter is. I lie and say “really good thanks” (as if I know) and change subject back to her new job before taking my leave and driving to Mum and Dads.
Mum was not there, but Dad shows me his new heat pump. I know how much power it uses (he installed a meter to check), what the workmen who installed it had for lunch, and where they drove from this morning. He doesn’t know I have given up drugs, am in court or feel like crap.
I take my leave after an hour and drive home. Where I sit and laugh at people taking the piss out of other people on some car forum sites.
Then I cook mince in pasta sauce. Enough for four helpings. I freeze three. I have no cheese though. Pasta and sauce without cheese is a little cheap. Need must.
My daughter would not have eaten that meal without cheese. I decide to take her bike to the donation bin at the local free bike workshop.
I am still picking bits of mince out the gaps in my teeth four hours later at the end of a walk home from stupid N.A meeting.
A day in the life of a retired drug dealing junky.
It is boring enough to drive you to drink.