First things first: I've missed you all quite a damn bit for quite a while. Little bit of mushy stuff toward the bottom here:
http://www.utmc-forum.org/pub/viewtopic ... 9&start=30
I didn't actually get any letter, I was just thinking about this place a buch lately, decided to drop by & that's the first thread I saw. Go figure. Since the members thingy is busted the second place I went trying to find out when & what my last posts might have been was just to put "wheezy" in the search term. there was a whole bunch of post from a bunch of different folks wondering where I went & what not. That sure does makes a fella feel nice. Not unlike me to drop off the earth with no notice, even with people who were actively a part of my life in the real world too. that's not very nice of course.
then I tried to post via my phone & f'ed things up a couple times & decided to wait till I could get to a computer.
so here we are. did I mention I missed you? wanna hear a story? too bad, here it goes:
Things mostly were good, life is life and the boy made some good decisions and some bad ones. Turns out some things that seem cool and fun aren't necessarily so. It's tricky, the human brain is a complicated piece of equipment & each one is a unique design. Some things that are quite lovely, fun, and innocent for most people just aren't really the right thing for another. He understood this in principle. He'd met people who really should have picked a hobby other than motorcycles. Usually they liked motorcycles, maybe even more than him but in a weird way, they couldn't make rational choices. They ignore dangers that most motorcyclists respect, they thought they could ride as fast and recklessly as they want. In fact it seemed to the boy that these people believed that fast and reckless was the whole point of motorcycles, like that's what makes them fun. It's like they don't or can't think properly but only with motorcycles. It's hard to describe, you know it when you see it, but they never can. He would usually try to talk to these people because he didn't want them to get hurt. On the odd occasion they did change at all it was mostly temporary and they ended up getting hurt very badly later.
Basically I traded life for heroin. Can't say it was unknowingly or it snuck up on me or anything really, I know better. Went through the same thing in the 90's, just got off the bus a few stops earlier & abstained from all intoxicants till the winter of 07-08. A lot of crap happened that I was taking too seriously, stopped doing a bunch of things that help me navigate around depression. (Doctors think me some sort of "bi" polar bear nonsense. Far as I can tell I only like girl humans, but I do what they say & I'm happier in general.) Took a spill on a dirt bike & busted a collar bone. No biggie, pretty minor injury. Still need to take care of work so just in case I'll go ahead & fill the pain script. With what I did to my opiate receptors 10 years ago I'm sure I could take the damn bottle & not feel the slightest rise. Took 'em as prescribed, less often if anything. Nothing hit the fan, life was just life. Except... it looked a little better. I was doing way more with a broken arm and a smile than I had been prior. Started thinking long & hard about this which is the LAST thing I should have done since, like people who ride motorcycles in flip flops, I obviously do not think properly about these things. Normal person probably would have gone back to the psych or whatever. I just figured heroin was the thing to do. Not quite that simple, but that's what it amounted to. from then on there's not much more to say till 7 months ago. Highlights include urban camping, causing lots of pain to people I like, achieving self disgust, seeing dead people & waking up via narcan shots. between all that and perpetual kicking/relapsing I tried the methadone & suboxone routes. I just turned them into ways to not get sick and do heroin whenever possible.