shitbelt

the (fictitious) words of an alcoholic/drug addicted/chemistry graduate/NHS manager

Alcoholics

Alcoholics, and probably all drug addicts are a helpless mixture of fraudulence and honesty. I definitely fall under this category.

All the lies told are conjured up instantly in the addict brain, it can come up with a massive web of thoughts leading to one lie to get what they want/need.

All the honesty is just that, pure sincerity. They honestly do love you, they honestly do intend to pay you back and finally they honestly do want to be free of addiction.

But the chemicals ultimately have hold.

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Day 1

Looking back and reading back over my posts it almost seems inevitable that I’d crash and burn at some point. I feel somewhat like Jekyll and Hyde, at times I’m caring, generous, showing love for the other walkers on this planet, at other times I’m a complete asshole, stealing, robbing, causing general mayhem and breaking more hearts than I can count on my hands.

I arrived in Tenerife at about 10-11 AM local time, lit up a cigarette and breathed in the warm air, basked in the sun for a while and hailed a cab, told him to take me to civilisation in the best Spanglish I could conjour up. He was in disbelief that I had no hotel arrangements, but drove me through desert wasteland to ‘Los Cristianos’ for €25, The Christians? I loved the irony.

Another 4mg or so of Xanax in the car, we arrived. I asked him about long term accommodation, I was to look for Pensiones, or cheap/shitty rooms to you and me.

I wandered round, feeling a little beaten up as you do after a flight, a bag over one shoulder and my leather jacket in the other. I got wind from some bikers that there was some house nearby so that was the first stop. There were two pretty young English girls standing outside the nice looking apartment, they told me they were leaving today and that it was real cheap.. awesome! Then some old hag appears and tells me I can take the place for €30 but only for 1 night because… I didn’t understand the rest of her Spanglish.

I kept asking and walking, dripping sweat but still feeling pretty good about being in the warmth of the sun and escapism.

I tried a few of these places, all were full. As I hauled myself up 3 flights of stairs off the beach I comtemplated sleeping rough, at the top of those stairs was another place that would take me. It was something like €21 a night, I booked a week there and then and handed over the cash. Some heavy motherfucker asked for my passport to photocopy, I handed it over and within 2 minute’s I was given the keys to Room 7.

3 single beds, a bedside table, electrical sockets that looked fatally dangerous and two windows, both with bars across them.

It’d taken me about 4 hours to get from the airport to this place, I shut the door, I flopped down on one of the beds and felt totally at peace. I could finally unload my shit and cease worrying for a week! I think I fell asleep.

As soon as I woke I went out to see what the place had to offer, it was getting towards evening but the sun was still warm. I don’t know how I found this place, I never saw it again, but some restaurant was serving €1 pints of beer and decent priced food. I downed a couple of pills with the decently priced beer and waited for my meal, I felt fucking awesome, sitting there in 25C staring out at the sea sipping a cold beer.

I paid the cheque and toured the bars, clubs, got drunk and somehow found my way to the small steep staired apartment I was staying in. Finally managed to get the key in the door, pulled off my clothes and got into the middle bed. I hadn’t slept that well in literally 2 years.

The Beginning of the End

It’s difficult to believe this was a whole month ago.. time frames are still pretty hazy but I’ll do my best;

Friday – A couple of days until payday, completely fucked on Xanax and booze I decide to take an £850 pay day loan, as soon as that was approved dropped a call to a couple of dealers and within 30 minutes or so there was with 3g of cocaine. I tore open the first bag and mixed with 0.3ml of water and proceeded to inject shot after shot until my veins were so constricted and my head so wired that no more was possible.

Saturday – I’m still up at 10-11AM when there’s no way in hell anymore of that coke is getting in me, after one last shot I washed down a handful of Xanax bars, Valium etc with vodka and lie in bed, anxious has hell, and waited for sleep.

Woke up some point with my nerves on edge, numbed them with booze and tranquilisers. So much intoxication in fact that somewhere gone midnight I had the bright idea to go and rob a local pharmacy, I’m not sure if it was because I was afraid of running out of medication or just because I was fucked up and felt like breaking something.

Sunday went pretty much the same way as Saturday, I’m not sure if I even stopped drinking or popping benzos at any time between these two points and once again the idea to rob the pharmacy was back. This time I managed to get in. As soon as I did I saw the reflection of flashing blue lights, turned around and put my hands up. I was thrown in a van and booked into a cell, I guess I wasn’t going to work Monday…

I later found out that my house had been searched by police at 5:45 AM Monday morning.

I was stripped of my belongings and since I couldn’t get the elastic stuff out of my clothes was issued jail clothes that looked kinda like scrubs. I sat in the cell, laughed, cried, eventually fell asleep. It would take me a week to sober up from that binge.

My lawyer arrived at some point, along with a “responsible adult” since I was, I suppose, deemed unstable. We all went along to an interview room with two detectives, they showed me undeniably high resolution CCTV images. I told them that I had been on a bender and hadn’t even realised this happened on two occasions, I honestly thought until then that this all occurred on the same night. I also made it clear that despite whatever I said my memory was fucked, which it obviously was, and that this was totally out of character for me, I’m a well paid manager in the goddamn National Health Service! I was led to a different cell and eventually bailed and released at about noon.

I had just enough change in my pocket for a bus home. I phoned my boss and told him someone close to me died and I needed time to grieve.

Next comes a blackout period, I suppose I got totally shitfaced for the remainder of Monday.

My next memory was (I guess) Tuesday about 3:00AM, I had about £3000 at my disposal, I’d say that I put any thought into it but really I was on autopilot, I packed all my clothes into bag along with a bottle full of pills and took a cab to London Gatwick.

The only places open were some coffee shops and a currency converter. I went and got a coffee, necked 4mg Xanax and looked at the departures.

The first flight was leaving about 5 AM to Tenerife, headed to the money stall and withdrew/converted everything I had into €uros, stashed it in various places on my person.

5 AM finally came around and I boarded, the place was practically empty, I had a whole row to myself. I ordered probably 6 beers, continued to pop Xanax and admired the view from the plane and the spiked orange refractions of light from my beer.

I felt fantastic, elated. I felt free, work and everything had been getting me down. I might note at this point that it was a one way flight, I had no intention of returning.

“Life’s too short to not go for broke” – this line played over and over in my head from leaving the house at 3 AM to then.

Day 1 in Tenerife coming soon…

Tranquillity

With each cell in my body ridding itself of drugs another memory comes to mind..

They are mostly bad. Even the good ones are tainted.

They are irreparable, I’m riddled with guilt and all I want right now is some benzos or booze to numb these feelings.

That isn’t an option, if it was I’d probably (definitely) take it, the coward’s way out, while fully aware that these thoughts and feelings would come back worse than before as soon as it wore off.

That is the nature of addiction.

As much as I think I am in control I am not, the drugs are.

How long will it take for me to feel tranquillity again without tranquilisers?

Nostalgia

I’ve lived in this house like 2-3 years now, these memories keep flooding back to me.

Like the time I was at my BFF’s flat, found 8mg of his roommates Subutex, sneaked it into the bathroom and loaded a 2ml 25 gauge syringe with the pills I mashed up in water – I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a 25 gauge needle but they’re pretty big – proceeded to shove the thing into my arm, holding my foot against the door since the lock was broken.

I was mostly opiate free at this time so it fucked me up real good. My friend had no idea how I’d gone from being slightly tipsy on beer to barely able to open my eyes.

I was there with Abi, my friend’s ex girlfriend, apparently I kept calling her Mel, my previous ex, and she’d slap me every time. I put one of the tabs under her tongue, said we have to go and with her small stature she somehow helped me get home.

Once we were back we went straight to the bedroom. She was pretty high from the surprise tab I’d given her.

The thing about Subutex is that it has a very high affinity to opiate receptors, in English that means that even the heroin overdose antidote, Naloxone, wouldn’t work since it’s affinity is lower.

Lying on the bed with Abi I could feel my breath getting more and more shallow. Shit, I thought, I don’t wanna go out like this, here on this mattress because of some random wreckless act.

It’s a strange feeling, enjoying an incredible high whilst knowing you’re probably going to die.

I called Mel, didn’t mention that Abi was lying next to me, and asked her to bring me some cocaine since it’d wake me the fuck up.

She arrived about half an hour later, came up to the bedroom and gave Abi a glare but didn’t say a word. I immediately grabbed the coke off her put it in spoon with a little water, it dissolved instantly since it was practically pure and shot it. It was like that scene from Pulp Fiction where Mia Wallace gets stabbed in the heart and instantly wakes up in shock.

Suddenly my eyes were wide, I was breathing deeply and after a couple of seconds ran to the bathroom to throw up. Shooting good coke often makes you throw up, as with opiates so they both had a part to play with that.

I was alive again. I shot up Mel and Abi with coke, Mel was well accustomed to it and Abi saw the effects and wanted to try it. We lay back on the bed, them either side of me.

Mel left shortly after since it was so awkward, my ex girlfriend, my friend’s ex girlfriend and me all in one bed.

Subutex lasts for literally days. Every so often, when my heart felt like it was going to stop beating I’d shoot some more coke and BAM.. back from the dead.

I’d flirted with Abi a lot in the past and at some point (while I was among the living) we fucked, something I’d wanted to do for a long long time. It felt great, like a trophy fuck.

Abi and I lay there in bed, high as fuck and fucking for 2 or 3 days.

The drug finally wore off, back to reality. I walked Abi to the bus stop hugged her in her big light brown fluffy coat, gave her a kiss and we parted ways.

As I returned to earth I realised what an asshole I was, I’d just fucked over my best mate, Mel and fucked my friend’s ex girlfriend.

I felt guilty, and at the same I felt fucking awesome. What a ride those 3 days were.

 

 

 

Procreation

Everyone is procreating, everyone but those who should be. Just look at your schoolmates on facebook.

This is going to be the generation eventually running the world.
That is all.

Friday

I got a call from Sofia, the crazy bitch who threatened my job, at about 3am on Friday/Saturday. She was stranded in some random corner of London.

“Can I stay at yours, I have wine!”

“Sure.”

I had better wine than she did but being the cunt that I am I’m still not gonna let someone sleep outside if I can help it..

Instantly I regretted it.

I didn’t pay her much attention, in my mind I was just offering her a place to sleep. She kept pouting for some loving but it wasn’t there, I invited her out of guilt or sympathy or something, nothing more.

She tried kissing me, I was honest, I couldn’t take the taste of stale booze and cigarettes. She sucked my cock for a few while but damn this is the first time I was glad to see her fall asleep.

6am I ordered some drugs then fell asleep before they got there.

To be updated when my memory sees fit..

Monday

Before leaving Jack’s I took a slug of whisky, drank a coffee, composed myself as best I could. Now somewhere between drunk and hungover, but that’s okay, I have enough pills with me to get me through any abuse work throws at me. He’s a good guy, Jack. We had a good night drinking whisky, and chatting and shooting arrows. Maybe spontaneous but I needed it for the week to come and I was in good spirits.

Bring it on mother fuckers

I’m still working 10+ hour days. Getting nhs smartcards set up for 120 members of staff with their own busy schedules is no easy task, especially when one of the more demanding doctors steals the laptop you need to do them for some presentation 50 miles away.

Then there’s the permissions, each site’s staff needs different privileges, for example some curious but retarded members of staff will go in and mess with the configuration if possible, others need to be able to do other very specific tasks.

They all need to be set up both on the new system and with the NHS Registration Authority, surrey’s consists of 2 people who are always busy and I also need the aforementioned laptop to get this done.

We’re getting some support from a company who think they can upgrade, configure and install the new software in 2 days, both scheduled under a week before we ‘Go Live’.

Setting up a few 100 template letters for every site.. Like referrals to other hospitals etc.. After setting up all the necessary hospitals and clinics in a 20 mile radius.

Along with all this is dismantling the old equipment, fixing highly used printers that simply needed new toner or a paper jam pulled until some wannabe engineer pulls out the back of it and breaks the sensor that tells the printer the back is closed.

Needless to say it’s a fat fucking workload and I’ll see no recognition once it’s done..

On a lighter note Nicola came by last night, luckily I wasn’t drunk, cooking some damn good stew.

She mentioned that she broke up with her boyfriend.. ‘is this my doing?’ she broke up with him like 2 days after our last date, which bordered on cheating despite her not letting me kiss her on the lips.

I poured us a glass of wine. I kissed her and she practically sucked my face off. But that was it. There’s no fun without the chase.

“I was glad I w…

“I was glad I wasn’t in love, that I wasn’t happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.”