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Excerpt… |
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| From Chapter 3 | ||
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By the time I was twenty I was in the detox unit of a psychiatric hospital and unable to function in society. The year prior I’d had eleven jobs and had moved a half-dozen times. I was a mass of untreated pain, oozing with hatred, contempt and self-loathing. I had no idea where to turn or how to escape the torment. About a week after I got to detox they gave me a three-hour pass and a city bus ticket. I was supposed to go across town and meet with an addictions counselor for some type of assessment. As I was riding the bus I was racking my brain as to where I could get a thousand dollars to buy an ounce of cocaine. I couldn’t go back home, since part of the reason I went to detox was because I owed some people money and had to get off the street for a while. There was nobody left in my life that trusted me enough to loan it to me, as it was certain that I would never pay it back. I couldn’t even think of anyone I could steal it from. My house of cards was rapidly tumbling down. I got off the bus a couple of blocks from my destination and walked into a McDonald’s. I ordered a value meal and continued to scheme. At the time, McDonald’s had some type of promotion related to Scrabble. With every food purchase you got game pieces with letters on them, which you were supposed to collect to win prizes. I opened my game pieces as I ate my French fries and laid the letters out in front of me; D,E,A, and D. I looked around the restaurant and then towards the ceiling. It was the first time in a very long while that I had thought about God. As with all good codependent excitement-junkies, I met a woman in detox who seemed to be the perfect match. She was a heterosexual heroine addict with morals as questionable as mine. She was moved from detox to a treatment across town, so a few days later I requested to be sent to the same center. Within twenty-four hours we had left the treatment center and moved into the basement of a drug dealer whose wife we had met in detox. We got high within moments of walking through the door. I left a few days later, having no regard for my life or hers. As I was leaving that first treatment center the counselor said, “Donna, you’re going to leave, you’re going to use and you’re going to die.” I looked him in the eye and said, “I’m okay with that.” I had no fear of dying, being unable to imagine an existence worse than my current life. My real fear was that I would continue to live. $12.95 Available at fine bookstores everywhere | ||
