My friend and I followed an ambulance last night, to see which halfway house it was going to, which might seem like an arrogant prediction, but my crystal ball is clear. Sure enough, it pulled up to one of the nicest places, a co-ed place that charges people for $225/week. I don’t know how things work over there, and at the end of the day, if I want to stick a needle in my arm, my surroundings will not stop me.
I don’t know if someone died last night there, but the previous night another human being lost his fight against heroin. I used the word “junkie” a lot in my life, it’s all through Shoestring Theories, but just like we label people as “homeless” we forget they are people. The kid that died had parents, had relatives and friends. We don’t just materialize out of thin air, we are born into a situation.
The early years we have no say in how we are brought up, who harms the innocent, or nurtures. For most addicts, there are demons from an early age. The hurt on such a personal level, we withdrawal, retreat into a beautifully imagined world, where no one can hurt us anymore. The trouble with that is life goes on, and we have to step out into the world, reactionary to these other human beings we collide with.
I call myself recovered, because I have been through the steps, and I work my 10-12 daily to the best of my ability. The voice inside my head that used to whisper what a piece of shit I am is dead, or more accurately, in a deep coma, with no real hope of coming out of it. I am not at all foolish enough to think I am cured. I gained peace and a will aligned with God’s by getting connected with God. That’s what the steps are for, bottom line, and people down here too often tiptoe around that word like it’s anthrax. Get God, or you will fall down again, and you very well might not get up again because the Mexicans drug cartels figured out something- why deal with poppies when all I need are some chemicals to make fentanyl.
I’ve died. Too many times. At this point, I know who my guardian angels are, I know they worked their asses off to keep me alive. These aren’t nod outs where I lose a few hours, and cough up blood, moments very close to not breathing, these are ‘if it wasn’t for Narcan’ moments. I’m qualified, I even have the sick irony of having a degree in pharmacy.
How did I get it? Well, I think I tried every way, this was all that was left. Recovery is now big business. Insurances cover treatment, 30-60, even 90 day inpatient stays and intensive out patient programs are the norm, and this is awesome news. If you get anything about addiction, the longer you are away from drugs, the better. The craving ebbs. Then it’s time to change.
My crystal ball again: South Florida is going to FUCK up a good thing with ‘treatment’ centers and insurances. Recovery is big business now. PHPs and IOPs are everywhere , with slimeball owners. These greedy fucks are urine testing people 3 times a week, which is great, but charging insurance companies $1000/test. So little Vito gets to stay for free in a halfway house, with a lot of hot chicks right across the way. It’s a set up for disaster.
In the past, Florida was a pretty lame heroin state. If you were an opioid addict, you had to travel for good dope, which even then failed to be anything close to the smack up north. All the kids were smoking blues, the oxycodone problem that made news. The citizens cried for an intervention into the pill mill mess, and they got one tragically. Taking away the pharmaceuticals does NOT take away the problem. That crystal ball- it invited the flood of heroin and now fentanyl into the state.
So, whereas 3-4 years ago, disaster meant smoking a blue, it’s pretty hard to die from that. You know what you are getting, 30mgs of oxycodone, and smoking it, you are wasting a lot of it. Eventually you’d come back, and suck on the insurance teat again, much to the delight of the owner. Today disaster is a needle still in the arm overdose. Let me say that again, one shot is killing addicts. Parents are trusting you and your staff to do everything possible to help them. Don’t get me wrong, there are some that will sadly never get it. They don’t see where they are headed, they think they have everything under control.
This idea of a relapse is just part of recovery is bullshit. It’s dangerous, life-threatening program, rehab speak. Fentanyl needs dosed in micrograms. Pretty sure drug dealers didn’t go to pharmacy school and know how to cut that up using aliquots. What’s my point? These recovery places need to stop their bullshit. Purely fronting their concern, when all they care about is driving around in a new Mercedes.
There are some great places down here. I guy I know really well runs a Federally licensed halfway. He’s up to 40 men and has one woman’s house, located away from the others. In 2 years, he has had to throw out 8 people. Those living in halfways, pick up your jaws. What does he do the others don’t? He doesn’t rape the system. He truly helps men, and the female house is run by someone equally altruistic. He drives a Civic when he could afford a Ferrari.
Greed is NEVER good. If you are a greedy halfway house owner, fuck you, and act accordingly. We’ve already seen the Federal government raid one large “recovery” halfway. You can make money, legitimately, yet you continue to fall back on old character defects, and basically steal. Fuck you man. Kids are DYING. Shit needs to stop. And if you read this and you get butt hurt, oh well. If you do it the right way, thank you, and I am sure there are a lot of truly grateful addicts and parents out there. Thank God you make a difference in someone’s life, gave them an environment that fostered just a tiny seed of hope.
Oh, PS- Allowing Suboxone and Steroids – wow. Might as well give them a box of Kratom with their move in linens. But what do you care, they have really GREAT insurance. Tell yourselves, when a client OD’s, it was their choice, I hope that helps you sleep at night on your Egyptian cotton sheets fuckboy. Recovery is an inside job. All the external stuff is just bullshit man, more, more, more just like the next fix. Your material possessions can’t ever fill the void in your soul, the reality of zero self-esteem. Chew on that.
Peace, Written out of Love, Care and Concern –
If interested in who I am, grab a copy of my memoir HERE