Monday, September 24, 2012

My Heroin Addiction

I have a confession. I'm addicted to heroin.

I have been for some time. It started when I was 15 and visiting a friend. Their parents were not home, of course.
Okay, it’s heroin. It just feels like heroin, at least as far as the cravings and horrible withdrawals. Really, my monkey is nicotine. Now that I am taking another stab at quitting, it certainly feels like a heroin addiction. 

Smoking negatively impacts the boys, something I refuse to acknowledge much like a heroin addict ignores consequences. Glenn has already asked if he could have one, and then used a stick to pretend to smoke.  Jackson will find my lighter in the morning and bring it to me. Worse, if I pick up my cigs, Jackson knows to head to the front door.
(Lights a cigarette) (Uh, I’m trying to quit smoking. Not quite there yet)

Last week, I was outside smoking, while Glenn was in timeout, and Jackson was playing.  It has never really bothered me to step away; it’s not like I am any closer if I’m inside.  While I was outside, I hear Jackson start screaming.  If you don’t have kids, it’s hard to explain, but they have different screams.  This one was, clearly, serious, and, since Glenn was in time out, I knew it wasn’t just fighting.  When I come around the corner, Jackson is smearing blood across his chest.  Blood is defiantly one of those bodily fluids they don’t tell you about before you have kids.  It was just small little nick on his finger, and it looked as if he had been shot in the stomach.  With Glenn, this would have freaked me out, but, being the consummate professional, I cleaned the cut and used my first aid knowledge.  While I was doing this, I handed Glenn a wet towel and told him to start cleaning the blood off the floor.  He suggested that maybe we call mom, and I told him if he did a good enough job cleaning, we wouldn’t have to do that at all.  If only I didn’t have the heroin habit, maybe Jackson would have avoided his first bloodletting.
Being at home certainly hasn't helped. I take lots of smoke breaks. You know, so the boys get their outside time. It doesn't really matter though; I would let any situation be an excuse to smoke more. That’s part of the addiction.

The truth is it’s just too damn expensive. There is just no way to justify the costs to Tracey.  Figure $7 bucks a day. Yes, I’m a pack a day smoker. So, 7*7=49/week * 52 = $2548 each year.  Are you serious??? That means over the last 15 years, I have spent more than $35,000, otherwise known as a really bad ass car...
So now all that is left is to do it. Some advice for Tammi, and anyone who might know someone addicted to Heroin.

#1.  Don’t ask me how quitting smoking is going.  Listen, for 15 years I have programmed my brain to have a smoke — when I get up, after I eat, when I have a drink, and while driving.  I do not need you reminding my brain it would prefer to be smoking.
2#. If you smoke, and I ask for a smoke, either do it or don’t.  I’m not your monkey, and I won’t dance.  Besides after I fail, you will try to quit and I’ll be right there with my smokes.

3#.  Don’t Judge me.  This week I sold my son a cookie for a dollar from his piggy bank.  I was short on a pack of smokes, and he wanted a cookie.  If I wanted your judgment, than I will ask for it.  Prior to having the smoking funds cut off, I told Tammi to hide the credit cards and take our change to the bank.
4#.  If I ask you to come over because I am about to shake the kids, I am not joking.

5# I know I’m being a dick, I’m sorry.  Treat me like you would a seven-month pregnant lady.  Put your kid gloves on and handle with care.

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