#gia2o

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This blog is officially 1 year old. My life has changed drastically since I started this blog a year ago, for the better. Am I 100% healed, no. But I have come a long, long way. Last year, I was in an extremely toxic relationship with a man I still to this day have love for. He had his demons and I had mine. To pin the blame on just one of us would be unfair. To say that I don’t still love him would be a lie. It would also be a lie to say that I don’t miss him. However, I don’t love and miss the things that came with being with him. Most of the things, anyway. Hence why we are no longer together. Since him, I have changed my phone number for separate reasons. There have been days where I have been tempted to contact him and give him my new number. I have held myself back. I no longer cry for him or feel empty without him. Without any man, at that. I have found solace in solitude. I feel good. I am closer to my family now than I have been in a long, long time. I am a lot more honest with them as well. They might not know every single detail, but they know I am still fighting off some of those demons. They no longer keep themselves blinded from my evident progress. The thing is, I’ve learned how not to avoid red flags. In not only men, but in everybody that comes my way. I have learned to not chase those that pretend to love me and so easily walk away. I have learned to not put up with abuse. These are things I always knew I should do, but never did. Now, I do. For that alone, I am proud. I have grown a lot this year and not just by age.

Now, regarding my drug use. I still smoke fentanyl. I am no longer on the needle. I don’t care who you are or what you have to say, I will pat myself on the back for that anyway. I have not injected anything since the quarantine was put into place, and even before then, it was a lot less frequent. I live in Los Angeles county, in a city near Long Beach (for those of you unfamiliar with California, Los Angeles does not just consist of Hollywood, Santa Monica and Malibu. I live in the part of Los Angeles known as, “The South Bay”). There was this stuff going around here that I had been using for over a year called “fetty”. Which is black tar heroin, heavily mixed with fentanyl. It was the only stuff that was getting me high. When the quarantine was put into place, there was an outage. The main dealer that supplied all of my dealers with that product fell off the face of the Earth. No one knows exactly what had happened to him. At this point, I knew there was no going back to heroin without fentanyl in it. I tried huff, I tried all types of tar (Mexican and Afghan), I tried. I tried. And I tried. Going back two years from today, I was also off the needle and began snorting fentanyl. That connect got put away and that’s when I found the fetty stuff and began shooting again. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I don’t really know... I found out my fentanyl dealer is out of prison and up and running again. And as time goes on, I begin to find out that everyone and their mother is on fentanyl only. It’s rare to find anyone in my area that gives two shits about plain ole heroin anymore (a sentence I never thought I’d hear myself say). Two years ago when I was on fentanyl, everyone here judged me for it. Now, all those people that judged me for snorting fentanyl are doing so bad that they might as well be shooting it into their eye balls. I never enjoyed injecting fentanyl. I was always afraid of putting in too much and dying and that fear kept me from putting in too little to enjoy it. So a few months ago I found out that I got a great high from smoking it. It was a waste to snort it and too risky to inject it. But hey, at least I’m no longer poking and prodding away at my already scarred skin for hours at a time hoping and praying and hoping some more to find a vein. I am no longer crying in frustration. I am no longer making my loved ones wait for me while I’m locked away in a bathroom, bleeding all over the place and banging my head against the wall because I can’t find a spot. And when I finally have the audacity to come out and face everyone, I can’t even look them in the eyes because I can barely keep mine open. I am well aware that I am not a saint for no longer doing this. But now... now I have reachable goals that I am actually taking steps to reach instead of keeping my fingers crossed and thinking that everything will fall into place when I’m not doing jack shit about it. I am no longer breaking my exes windows because he locked me out after a fight with all my drugs and possessions being held hostage inside his home. I am no longer running up and down the streets of his neighborhood barefoot and in nothing but a towel chasing cars to help me because we couldn’t even wait to fight until I got fully dressed after a shower. I no longer feel unnecessary guilt for going out with my friends and having a good time without his presence. I no longer have to pawn my family’s and my things for way less than they are worth for a fix. I no longer. I no longer. I no longer. Yes, I am still playing with fire, but I’m out of the flames. I can’t guarantee full recovery, but I can feel it getting better. As long as there is still fire, there is impending doom. But whether the fire goes out or not, there’s always the danger of another fire.

Hope everyone is being as safe as possible. I hope everyone is either sober or staying high. I hope all of you are happy and alive.

Xoxo, Gia

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