I go to a clinic for Methadone and now my days are spent in therapy and drug treatment. It’s been six days since I used heroin. For some that isn’t a big accomplishment. For me, it’s six steps in a different direction; a direction I desperately need to continue to follow if my life is really going to change. Before entering the clinic my time was spent doing drugs, tricking myself out on the street and searching for a safe place to sleep.
When I think back to when I was a kid I guess it makes sense. You know, why I started using drugs. Growing up I went through all kinds of hell. My stepfather was abusive. I can remember one time when I was twelve and he thought my pants were too low. He picked me up and choked me until I passed out. No one seemed to care.
That’s when I started drinking and getting into drugs. I was hurting a lot inside. I remember walking up and down Castor Ave in Northeast Philly. There would be bottles of whiskey on the street and I’d polish them off behind buildings. They were dirty bottles. God only knows somebody could have pissed in one and I was drinking it.
At thirteen I was prescribed Percosets for migraine headaches. Within two weeks I had gone through half of them. I loved the way they made me feel because they made me numb. They made me numb physically but more importantly, emotionally. After that the drug use increased tenfold. Anything I could get my hands on I would take. Eventually I was offered a free sample of heroin. I loved it because naturally it numbed me out. I sold all of my stuff so I could buy drugs. If you’re gonna feel like shit what is the point of having all of those things? Instead of feeling miserable all the time I was content feeling nothing at all.
I eventually ended up on the streets. I was introduced to trading sex from one of my best friends who was also homeless. I started tricking with him to support my habit. We worked the area between 12th and 13th and Spruce and Locust Streets. We basically lived out of a backpack and shared everything including underwear and socks.
At one point we were living with a meth-amphetamine dealer in exchange for sex but my stupid friend got caught stealing from him. I promised I would stick by him no matter what but when he was really messed up on cocaine and stealing from me I had to step away from him. He was going too wild for the drugs. He was robbing people left and right downtown in broad daylight. He eventually overdosed. I never even knew about his funeral until months after. I think that was the first time that I wondered why I was still doing this. I know trickin is unsafe. I mean besides the risk of getting “fag-bashed” or kidnapped there is the risk of getting HIV and other STD’s. I make a rule not to bottom and I always use condoms but the truth is, I am a small guy and if someone bigger than me wants to force sex on me with or without a condom they will.
You know it is one thing to be a kid and make bad decisions. I was dealt a shitty hand and chose to escape from reality. Things just spiraled out of control. But I’m not a kid anymore. Eventually I really want to get married and have a family. I want to be a good father. But before I can take care of anybody else I have to take care of myself. It’s sad but I can count on one hand how many times in the past fifteen years that I have been able to have fun or interact with people without having to be on drugs. But it was during those times that I thought I was really capable of getting clean. I still have hope. I mean I have my health and right now my freedom. Like I said, I just started treatment and have been off of heroin for six days. I know getting clean is going to be brutal but for the first time in a long time, I am ready to feel again. I am actually looking forward to day number seven…
Kendall, 29
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