starbucks isn't even open yet...
what a wonderful day with jax we had.
he's my old jackal. he is. even if it was just for yesterday. and now he's off to montana, where i know he's ready to begin again. he's ready.
he read to us something he wrote. i asked him if i could post it here. he said it was fine. when he was at the treatment center, bill told him he should start writing again. we thought he pooh-poohed the suggestion; but like some things with jax, you just don't know if he really hears you. you think he doesn't, but then it comes back at you later, like you've planted a seed. i suppose it's like this with everybody to a certain extent; but with jax, when he's in his dark place in his head, it's like this with everything. you feel like you're not getting through the wall with one word you say. i'm not exaggerating. not one word. you fight about what you're going to eat, what to wear, where to go.
here's what he wrote the morning after he left the treatment center:
twenty minutes into the whole twisted adventure, i feel the lsd that my dude gave me at the gates of rehab kicking in. as i sit in his filthy apartment, arrangements are made to score some dope.
deep in thought, i regret my spur-of-the-moment decision to leave. that decision, just one in a string of many, is a prime example of the survival skills of my drug addiction.
the call comes in for the go-ahead on the dope deal, so i take one last toke from the bong. sitting in the back seat of his car, i start thinking again. i think of my family and sobriety, and the pain is great; but in one breath, my craving takes over, erasing all other thoughts. i change from good-old jackson to a person who bears no resemblance but the physical. this is a very dangerous place for me. in this frame of mind, i have absolutely no control over what kind or how much of the drugs i will do.
the dope boy is back in the car, and we are on our way "home." the sad reality is that i will not be seeing any sort of a place called "home" for a very long time.
when we arrive, i see an old acquaintance coming to throw down on some of the dope. she is an "adult movie actress." she is also the ex-fiance of one of my good friends (who was actually at the treatment center with me). she was once a victim of the speed craze, but now is a victim of the needle and the spoon.
upstairs i find out that she has set up extra rigs. before i landed in rehab, i had started mainlining my meth, coke, and ecstasy -- but never heroin. heroin is a relatively new experience to me. i had only snorted it three or four times before today. as i stand in front of the bathroom mirror, i shoot up twice. the first ... a euphoric buzz. the second ... oblivion.
i stumble into the living room, and i'm offered a vial with a respectable amount of crank residue caked to the side. back to the bathroom. i finish and emerge tripping, stoned, doped up, twacked. you'd think that might be enough. enough for ME? no. never enough for me.
after that drug-a-thon, i am dropped off at a friend's house for the night. there i proceed to eat about 70mg of adderal and smoke a foil bowl.
another night passes to another day.
Posted by Stacey at September 2, 2006 05:04 AM
a reality so lost on me.... so dark, so alone, so scary....
how you read this and not fall into a terror is beyond me... your strength another reminder of your amazing personality.... another reminder of Jax's hopes.
-d
Posted by: -d at September 2, 2006 06:55 PMPowerful. Bless you all.
Posted by: Anonymous at September 4, 2006 02:45 AMI'm shocked by what Jax wrote. I didn't realise that a body could take such a mixture and continue to work.
I'm so pleased that you had some normal time together before he left and there is someone you know at the other end. I will continue with the good thoughts I've been sending
Posted by: Anji at September 4, 2006 08:55 AM