Tag Archives: #meth

Happy Birthday Fool

It’s my mother fuckin’ birthday!  It’s my damn birthday.  Who really is excited to turn 37.  What the hell kinda joke is 37? Has anyone even anticipated their 37th birthday?  Shit.  Has anyone ever anticipated a birthday after 21?  That was so long ago I can’t even answer that question.

My thirties have been odd.  I finally had a birthday without Tony, and then I decided to take my drug use to a whole new level and call in an addiction. I created an empire around a drug called meth, sitting on top of the world, or so I thought, and then unexpectedly got knocked down so low, I couldn’t get up without help from rehab, outpatient, family and friends.  I lost not one, but three “best friends” in a year while repairing relationships with people I thought I lost a long time ago.  I wanted to die, I thought I would die, I KNEW I would die, and then I saved myself.  I got stuck some place in between young and old, daddy status and being a daddy chaser.  I recovered, but never really felt whole until a Vegas vacation changed my view of life.  Right when I got comfortable being alone, I met the man that I plan on spending the rest of my life with.  That’s how the story goes.  Today I don’t feel like I have all the answers.  I’m smart enough to know that I won’t have those answers tomorrow either.  I went back to school, and started a new career, going from being my own boss to having 50 bosses and living in constant fear that I may loose my job because my maturity level won’t ever match my age.  Basically, I’m growing up.

My wish for myself if that I continue to see the progress made and not to backtrack ruminating about my life that has passed.  Sometimes the lines between being an addict that’s on top of the world, even if its superficial, and being this new, seemingly boring version of myself get dangerously close.  Thank god someone taught me how to play the tape through, always saving the day when I think I want to go back to the thrill and excitement of the games I used to play, and the playgrounds I played them on.

I may not have what other people my age have, but I’m only aware of the world around me because I stopped doing drugs.  I have a hell of a lot more then I had two years ago and that is a FACT.  Everything else is just a thought or opinion that needs to be shut down on the bad days that I have them.

I need to promise myself this:  I promise to continue to grow and not let minor set backs break me.  I promise to not be afraid to say what I feel, and to always do my best with my relationships I have and the people around me. I promise to not get upset about not being perfect.  I promise to continue to be weird and eccentric for these are the qualities that make me who I am.  If I can’t be myself at 37 I never will be.  A fool at 40 is a fool forever, and my momma didn’t raise no fool.

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Countdown of tears

I remember back in 2010, before I decided to become a meth addict and after I left Tony, the day that I decided it was time to live on my own again.  It was such a surreal day, walking into my sun drenched studio on Pine Grove Ave.  From my window I could see the Chicago Cubs sign that glowed above the entrance to the bleachers section of Wrigley Field.  In fact, when there was a night game, the bright lights illuminated the hallway of my building, casting unusual shadows on the imperfections of the plaster walls as I approached my door after a long day of cutting hair.  Looking back, this is when I created a new identity that somewhat still defines me today.  It’s the beginning of an era when I stopped worrying about what people thought of me and started to love myself.  Up until this point I was still that scared little boy that hid in the shadows of insecurity an uncertainty.  Recovering from the wounds inflicted by life, becoming a target for someone like Tony to sweep down and catch as prey.

I really miss the guy I was then.  He died forever when I moved to Rogers Park and met what I can metaphorically refer to as “The Devil”.  This label can easily describe a few different things that lead to the fall of the strong man that I was starting to become.  The Devil could be Marc, Peter, Mike Northwestern, or the evil life changing drug itself: Crystal Meth.

It’s 2017, and I was able to escape death by a narrow margin.  I sometimes don’t know why I did survive the fate that I truly welcomed at one point in time but I did.  the things that I saw, the other things that I did and those experiences will haunt me forever.  My innocence was taken from me, something that I will never get back.  I’m happy and proud to be the man that I am, but a huge part of me will always wonder who I could have been if I never hit that pipe.  If I never stuck that needle in my arm, who would I be today?

My boyfriend today has a similar background.  He has felt the pain I have felt, and along with that pain comes the pleasure too.  It’s hard for me to think about that too long.  I don’t want to think about the man that I love being in any of the truly immoral situations I was ever in.  If I’ve had an infinite number of sexual partners then the truth is that he probably has also.  My thoughts get preoccupied on the idea that I will never be good enough, that I could never be better then that high.  Can two addicts recover together or will there always be this demon lurking in the dark part of our being that will want to come out and try to sabotage the love that we have for each other?  Is this real? Did I really find the man I am going to be with forever, because that’s what it feels like.  It feels amazing.  It feels scary.

I’m going to continue to move forward down the cracked brick road of recovery.   Maybe I did loose my innocence through the process of self discovery and had a taste of the dark side, but that has made me who I am today.  Who knows, maybe the desire I have always had, the desire to self destruct will never return now that I fed the thirsty part of my tarnished soul.  Now I can focus on being the best boyfriend, brother, teacher, uncle and son that I was meant to me, because I already know what its like to be the worst and I never want to meet that man again.

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Letters to Joey…..2

Dear Joey,

It’s been a little over 11 months since you have talked to me.  At this point, I have stopped trying to contact you.  I’m used to the fact that you’re gone, and having to speak to you again at this moment would only throw a wrench in my life.  Thar doesn’t mean that I don’t think about you still.  It seems like it’s a daily thing, for you to cross my mind, but it’s usually just a passing thought that isn’t made up out of fear or guilt.  I have not cried, nor have I felt empty without you near me in quite some time.  It seems at the moment, dare I say, that I have learned to let go in order to move forward.

You wouldn’t even recognize the man that I have become.  You helped push me to this point, but I did a lot of hard work on my own, and while some credit is yours for leaving me and opening my eyes to the reality of my addiction, most of the credit I take for myself.  It’s only through hard work and perseverance that I was able to succeed.

Today I write this letter as a cosmetology teacher.  I finished school at the top.  I didn’t miss a day, not an hour.  That right there would seem like a huge commitment but I knew that’s what I had to do, and while doing something that I loved, it seemed rather effortless.  I made such a big impression that the school I attended hired me on at their campus to teach the cosmetology program.  I have never felt more blessed then I have this past year.  I have received two pay checks so far, both more then any other paycheck I’ve received in my life.  On top of that, my company has given me a retirement fund, paid vacation and all the other benefits someone should have at my age.  I’m trying to keep Vera’s one day a week.  I can’t just yet let go of my clients or walk away from her.  She has been there for me through this whole process of losing you and re establishing my life.  It’s also time for me to save some money and move out of this house.  It’s almost been a year also since I moved in with my family to also help me escape the loss I felt over you and to give me an outlet to set the stage for my personal growth.  What I have accomplished in a year still makes me stop and shake my head in disbelief.

As long as I keep doing the next best thing for myself and the people around me, I’m going to be just fine.  My new career awards me with such satisfaction.  These kids really look up to me for the positive attitude I have and the experience I bring to the table.  I still see Bonnie once a week and she also validates me on the progress I have made.  I barley remember the boy that showed up to her office a year ago having a complete breakdown, just days before checking into rehab.  Also, there is a boy, that just might be the one.  I’m not going to let my fears sabotage this relationship like I have in the past.  It’s brand new, but after last night I really feel closer to the possibility of having a “boyfriend”.

I’ll never forget you Joey.  I’ll always thing about you.  I hope for my sake that we do hold off on seeing each other again.  This time I guess I need my space when not so long ago the obsession of seeing you one more time was all I could think about.  It’s hard to say, but I can’t see you again.  Not now.  I don’t want to anymore.  It has nothing to do with not loving you, it’s the fears of what emotions might be brought back up after all the hard work I’ve done to release those very emotions.  I just need you to know that I’ll love you forever.

Love Always and I mean that….



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Auto Biography Of An Addict Part 5 (HItting Rock Bottom; Everything Happens For A Reason)

They teach us in NA that changing geographic locations in order to escape our addiction never works.  That we learn to manipulate new people to get and find the drugs that we want.  I wish I read that book before I decided to move!!  Guess what I did after I moved?  I lied to my family about where I was and what I was doing.  I kept my job in the city and continued to use Meth as a way to escape the reality that had become my life.  After I found a new job in the suburbs, I lost my job at Floyd’s after I walked out one Sunday in a self centered tantrum.  This is nothing new for me, the addict.  I’ve broken many bridges with employers doing the same thing.  After my full departure of the city I then felt so lonely that I manipulated new people to get and find the drugs that I wanted.

I met someone.  He was a good kid.  He was 14 years younger then me but a whole lot smarter then me.  He’s the only name I feel like I need to protect in the story of my life, however eventually hurting me in the end like I set him up to do.  I refused to date him.  To me, I was a horrible person, caught in the grips of addiction and I didn’t want to expose him to the animal that I became.  I loved this guy very much for all the times he was there for me when I needed him.  He didn’t have the label of being my boyfriend, even as much as he tried, but emotionally and physically became just that to me.  I tried to “white knuckle” my way through life at this point with my addiction to meth.  I thought drinking and smoking pot was ok, as long as I didn’t do meth, however I was still using these drugs to mask the reality of my addiction.  I used twice in the period of 8 months that I told this kid I wasn’t using.  He really was my anti drug.  He kept me clean for as long as my brain would allow it.  I never then used because I wanted to have fun.  I used so I could feel normal again.  I wanted independence.  I had my own studio apartment in Glen Ellyn and my boy had a key.  He cooked me dinner, he bought me a puppy for Christmas and he helped me with anything I asked.  This guy was the most loyal human being that has even been apart of my life.  I felt like a piece of shit.  My ship sailed a long time ago and I missed my ride.  If I pushed him away from me, then maybe he would not miss his.  I was no one to even try to spend your life with and I reminded him everyday.  He chose to stick around and I honestly treated him the best that I could in the state of mind and emotion that I was in.

My suburban job sucked.  I hated work.  I was at a salon all day doing nothing but smoking weed and sitting on dating apps that I swore to my friend that I would stay off of.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  I called my old boss at Floyd’s and begged for my job back.  I knew that I should not be back in the city but I needed to feel how it felt to actually make money and be productive again.  Everything happens for a reason.  The district managers who I figured hated me anyways, denied my request for a re hire.  This left me feeling so broken, knowing there was no way out.  There was no future for me.  I thought this was a guarantee that I was going to fail, a realization that on most days, I smoked myself stupid so I could accept this fate.  Strike 1.

I needed an out so naturally I turned to my dating app to seek meth.  I found it.  I planned it.  I planned it so precisely that I told myself that I couldn’t smoke weed when I got home or I would get to lazy to meet up with this troll that was going to get me high for free in exchange for a night with my body.  I wish I never downloaded this app that night, an app I promised my guy I would never use again.  Strike 2.

While using I got a text from my friend that I’ll never forget.  “I hope that app you were on 2 hours ago was worth our relationship”.  I turned my phone over, already high and finished my night.  Strike 3.  I went hope and obviously couldn’t sleep.  I stared at the wall for 12 continuous hours.  No TV, no music.  Nothing.  My buddy came over to get his things and to tell me he could no longer talk to me, and I couldn’t talk to him, a promise that he has kept to this day.  Strike 4.  I lost it.  I went crazy.  The next day I had to move in with my parents because I couldn’t afford to live on my own, and couldn’t even be sitting alone as thoughts of self harm crept into my brain.  Strike 5.  I went to my doctor and wanted to beg for Xanax.  Everything happens for a reason.  She was rushed into emergency delivery, a month early in her pregnancy, and I was thrown into an office of a doctor that had no clue who I was or what I was going through.  Strike 6.  This doctor suggested Linden Oaks out patient.  I figured this was  a mental health program that I had NO time for.  I shrugged it off, as if she was the crazy one and went home.  I polished off my Xanax and drank heavily for the 4th of July weekend.  I have never been so broken in my life.  I swear I cried for 6 days hysterically every time I had a moment alone at the loss of my friend.  What did I do??

Six or seven strikes of life brought me to my knees.  I emotionally collapsed,  I wanted to die.  I wanted to end my life.  I needed the pain to stop.  The next morning was just as bad as any.  at 7 AM I took that crazy doctors advice and called Linden Oaks assessment hotline.  I had an hour to get there and have my life assessed, whatever that even meant.  I wish I knew then that I made the most important phone call I have ever made in my life.  Recovery was right around the corner.

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I Am Me. Dolce, A Fucking Mess (About me, blogging 101 addition)


At this moment, I am 34.  I live in Glen Ellyn, IL- a yuppy suburb west of Chicago.  This is where I grew up.  I moved back out here less then a year ago because I simply lost everything.  I blamed Crystal Meth for a long time however I could have stopped a lot of things from happening to me if I wasn’t over medicated on Zoloft and programed not to react.  I’m currently in an out patient drug rehab program out here on my own.  That seems to be the recurring theme in my life.  On my own.

Over a year ago I experienced a very dramatic separation from the person I should have been spending the rest of my life with.  Drugs were easy.  Recovering from this, is still a challenge. I left him and everything I achieved, worked, and sweat for behind and I had to start over.  The drugs were ruing my life,  They lied to me.  They cheated,  They made the two people I loved the most turn into complete monsters and showed me how quickly love becomes hate in the face of addiction.  One of those people was myself, and I struggle everyday to remember who I was when I used to love “me”.

I am a hair stylist. I love Mariah Carey.  I have a Chihuahua.  I self medicate with weed.  I blog to feel better, to know there are other people out there that understand me, and that maybe someday he will read something that will someday make him forgive me.

I’m a Zio. That’s Uncle in Italian.  When the road crumbles to stone and i can barley stay on the road anymore, I look in the rear view mirror and see that baby. He’s the reason that I chose to attempt to better my life.  Since I found out that my sister in law was pregnant I knew I wanted to be a better man then who i was, so all these changes are for the bigger picture.

I’m gay. I was thrown out of my home.  I’m poor.  I was an escort.  I’ve done porn and sold drugs.  I have always chose to live life on the bad side and I can’t do it anymore.  I am way to sensitive for this lifestyle and it was all killing me.  That’s why I went to Beauty School 10 years ago.  I’m good at what I do.  I have ADHD and refuse medication. (Can you tell?)  I want to feel independent again.  I want to feel free to write again.

That’s a little background on who I see in the mirror when I wake up everyday.  A little about me.

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Close Call

Last night I wanted to get high.  I wanted to PNP.  I wanted to smoke meth and have crazy dirty sex all night long.  It was New Years Eve with two days off of work to follow. What a perfect set up!!  I started a new job, been working my ass off, and with 100 days sober just around the corner, I can say I’ve been abstinent just as long and it was getting, well, OLD.  I got on Scruff and I was ready to go.  Paulo has wanted me BAD and for a long long time. Paulo was HOT.  He said he was taking out the dog, ordering some grub-hub and would be ready in 45 minutes.  Exactly how long it would take me to get from my home in the suburbs to Edgewater.

What stopped me???  I guess a few things.  Someone on Scruff who knew I was off drugs asking how I was doing.  That was very good timing on his part.  I knew I had an appointment with my addiction counselor on Friday and would not be able to look her in the eye, actually I know I wouldn’t go, and I like Bonnie.  I’m not ready to let her down.  Marijuana and Chola.  Stoned and with a puppy in my lap, I was feeling way to lazy to actually go forward with my sleazy plan.  My family.  I just think of my brother and sister in law, also my nephew, and I don’t want to let them down.

I woke up this morning happy with my decision to stay home.  Happy to be clean still.  Happy to have went to sleep and woke up hungry.  Grateful for my puppy and kitten, and mostly my state of mind.  I was, however, disappointed a little that I still stay clean because of others.  I feel myself loosing that self respect that I thought I was getting back.  Here’s to Friday and a good session with Bonnie. Happy New Year


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Memories of Us: Captured in Time, Captured in Sand

My friend Brian.  Meth addict.  Died Aug. 2012.IMG_3584 93 Days off Meth now.

Brian’s body was found in Death Valley, CA along with that of his dog, in the general vicinity of where they found his car abandoned days before.  The same day I found out he was missing, Peter, my friend, my dealer, was arrested and sent to jail in what would turn out to be a long story right there.

It’s difficult for me to reflect back on this time because a lot of my mistakes and the negative effects of using were starting to come to a head.  Most importantly I was dating Jason, and at that point it was all about him, and I can clearly see now how sad I was in our Chemical romance.  This day also was my brothers wedding, another day, in my mind I ruined for myself because I was high.  Unfortunately that memory, along with my brief appearance at my step sisters wedding will always have addict and Jason attached to it.

I met Brian 1 or 2 summers before in what we become known as Rogers Park First Annual Northside Pride.  I also remember shrugging off (a now salvaged friendship) my good friend Sean that day because in my sick mind, he wasn’t a big boy and couldn’t handle meth.  Sean was, as it turns out, trying to get me to see that I was too cool to be hanging out with the dirt bag known as Marc, but I was in way too deep to see.  At this point, I felt like I was a member of an awesome sexual secret society.

Brian and I shared many secrets and now that he is gone, secrets they shall remain.  Last week I took a walk in my old neighborhood of Rogers Park.  I walked the beach as I have a million times passed the bathroom at Loyola Beach.  Brian and I had sex here.  To date, the only time I’ve ever had “sex on the beach”.  The area we fucked I then noticed was roped off and sea oats were planted in an attempt to elude the erosion and bring a natural feel to the beach.  To me, it memorialized a location that is important to me and reminds me of someone I lost, someone that could have been me if 5 years turned into 10 and so on.  I’ll never forget you Brian and I think you are watching me.  We have a special place that is ours protected forever.

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Triggers. Meth is every place

You might be dating a meth addict if… Do they use rust remover in meth? Probably. I don’t know. I do know however nothing gets that burnt glass pipe crystal clear again like some Whinks!! I also know that I’ve been living on my own for 15 years now and I have never had to buy rust remover, until I started to use meth!! So next time your at a guys apartment and you have a minute alone, search that bathroom cabinet. If you got some Whinks Rust Remover in the bathroom, you are probably dating a meth head.

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