...diary of a HEROIN addict - Background #1

...diary of a heroin addict. Background piece #1

The decision was made last night for my first few pieces of writing to be about the past and it's relevance to now. Before I can start to keep a daily blog you guys need to know where I came from, who I was and who I am today. If on target the daily diary should start Saturday or Sunday. If you have a question or if there is something I have left out then please just leave a reply and I will be glad to inform you or make an edit. This is the first in three parts that should bring you up to soeed with me at present time.

Me aged five or six in Devon, UK.

Let's go back to the very beginning...

Born in North Yorkshire in the UK in 1989, I had an average early childhood. Up until about 7-8 years old it was fun and from what my little eyes could see - nothing was out of the ordinary. I was one of two children, my brother being the elder by 2 1/2 years. However when you hit 8-9 you start to become aware of your surroundings and begin to create memories etc.

This was the case for me anyway...

Going by memory which dosent serve me perfect but I will give it a go. It went something like this:

My mother was a nurse at the local hospital, I don't recall which department she was in at the time.
My father was a university lecturer in psychology. He was a good father and my mother and him were happy with their two children, one of them being my self - at least I thought they were happy. It turns out my father was actually an alcoholic and was very physically addicted to the stuff. I was not told this at the age of 9 but I started to notice things (dropping him off at the pub, dropping him off at A.A, arguments which resulted in the kitchen being smashed to pieces in one instance) and slowly I clicked on.

The first time I was told to my face what my father was really like was after my parents had separated when I was eleven years old. My mother had been back up to the house to go through belongings etc with my father. Once she came back from up north, where the old house was, we went to the supermarket. Afterwards, in the car park I noticed she had a black eye. She tried to say that the garage door had flung up and hit her in the face. Not for a minute did I believe it. After a little bit of pushing and pressing my mother broke down and told me my father had given her the black eye when he was drunk.
She went in to a bit more detail about the reason they separated which was that he had been having an affair behind her back and his drinking had gotten out of control.

This was the first time I had directly been introduced to alcoholism and addiction.

We spent the next two years living with my grandma in her bungalow. It was sizeable so it was okay. She looked after me and my brother when my mum was at work. She often worked nights and had to sleep during the day so we didn't get to see a lot of her. My brother and I developed a pretty close bond at this time which is in stark contrast to present day. We haven't spoke for a long time and we do not see each other in any respect.

I visited my dad on the weekends. My brother did not want anything to do with him and their relationship pretty much ended there and then. I loved my old man and took every opportunity to to stay when it was possible. Little did I know he was secretly boozing the whole time I was with him. He was even drink driving picking me up and dropping me back off - sometimes he wouldn't make that and my mum would have to drive across the country to come and get me.

So after a couple of years living with my nan in the north of the country my mum announced that she had met someone. She told us his name and a little bit about him and where he lived (this is key - he lived down south and I had never known anything apart from the north), that he had two boys who were younger than my brother and I, some other basic bits of information. Oh, and that he would be visiting the next day with his boys! As a nervous child this really had my brain running at 100 mph. I didn't know what to make of it. I wasn't angry at her for meeting someone but I don't remember being noticingly happy about the situation either.

So the visit went fine and I met who was to go on to be my stepdad and his nightmare of offspring he had created. They were extremely hyperactive kids and really annoying. Later on in life I found out it was a medical condition but at that age you don't think about things the way we do now.

Some weeks or months or so passed and my mum had been out on many dates and a few little trips away with her new fella. I don't know about my brother but I wasn't really paying much attention. I was growing up a bit and starting to make the change process of my balls dropping and me being turned into a man. This didn't go as straight forward as I thought it would or if I had even thought about it at all - at school we were taught about puberty but I didn't really care at the time. Now your probably thinking what embarrassing stories has he got here? Low and high switching voice? Getting new hair in new places? First wet dream?... Nope, no stories on that, although a lot of that did happen haha but that isn't what I mean. What I do mean is this was such an important time in me becoming who I would go on to be in the future. Everything around me from now on would impact the way I thought, acted and what I wanted in life...

So, fast forward and we ended up moving down south to her new fellas house. He was newly divorced at the time they met just like my mum was newly separated. It was the old house his wife and his kids had shared. This didn't sit right with me and I felt like we were replacements or additions. Luckily we didn't stay long at that property and we moved to a bigger house in the same area. This had already had a negative impact on me not liking the new town.

My mums new fella and myself had gotten on surprisingly well over the year or so that had passed. We both had an interest in computers and he even bought a skateboard to try to learn to skate with me. Now when I look back I appreciate what he was trying to do but what was to come in the future was to cloud my judgement for a long time.

After the school holidays were over it was time to start my new school. Put it like this. I didn't think I had an accent. I didn't even really think about it much. After that first day, it was all I could think about. I got the piss taken out of me daily, mimicking my northern accent. It didn't bother me too much but I wanted to fit in not be the odd one out. There was no bullying.

The pattern I noticed were that the naughty kids were the popular kids and that the geeks were... Well... Geeks. So, a naughty kid it was to be.

After a few months of backchatting teachers, having a few fights, getting suspended and started smoking I started to fit in. I was one of the most popular names in school. Little did I know how pathetic this was and how detrimental it was going to be. Please know I am now writing this as a 28 year old man who has compromised his health severely because of his poor choices in life. Choose life.

I started to meet up with the lads and ladettes from school after hours. They were always smoking cheap hash and I wasn't going to say I didn't smoke it so I immediately did. Luckily I am a big advocate of the legalisation of cannabis for chronic pain sufferers and all others but we will leave that there for now. Before long I was buying my own and starting to drink too. Alcohol really did not agree with me and I knew I had a taste for it too pretty early on. Everytime I drank I would end up blacked out and have to get others to explain all the bad shit I had done the night before. I had begun to bring this 'bad shit' back home with me and my mums fella wasn't having any of it. I was given multiple warnings but I just got worse. By the time my first year at the new school was out I had started taking ecstasy pills on the weekends amongst other substances and alcohol. Been arrested a couple of times, mainly for getting into scrapes with my stepdad drunk. Suspended froom school and was only allowed to attend four days a week instead of five.

This kind of behaviour carried on through year 9 and 10. More arrests, my drinking was becoming a visible problem and it was obvious I was becoming my dad and more school problems. At the start of year eleven I was told I was only allowed in two days a week. So I basically sacked school off for good there and then. Something I will regret for the rest of my life. If anyone is still at school who is reading this then please pay attention and study. You will thank me when your older.

Half way through the last year of school things finally came to a head when me and my stepdad had a huge falling out and it got physical. Police were called and I was arrested yet again. Little did I know this would be the last time I would be arrested involving my stepdad, which had just become the norm in the house. I slept the night away in the cell sobering up before being awoke to a copper banging on the door. I could not remember much, if anything. When I asked how long until I get out of here they told me 'they are trying to find an address to bail me too as my mother and stepdad have said I cannot live at home anymore'. To top it off they had taken out a judgement against me to stop me from going near the house.

This hit me like a ton of bricks!

At the time I didn't realise how bad things were at home and I guess I never thought my mum would actually do this. The blood rushed my face and I had to sit down, I remember this vividly.

I was now homeless. My mum and stepdad had told the police to let me know not to call and I am not welcome at the house anymore.

**...i was 15 just turning 16. Very few trustworthy friends, no family and no where to go. The worst bit was, this was all playschool and just the beginning. Things got worse, a lot worse. **

Please follow and keep posted for my next piece on what happened next.

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...the diary of a heroin addict ~ raw, repugnant , realism.

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