Tag Archives: Addiction

Death, Family, and Dealing With Stigma

Sorry that I have been MIA recently. I have been very busy with work. I actually up for a promotion so hopefully that works out. I really, truly enjoy wear I work and who I work with. I have not ever enjoyed a job this much.
The main reason that I have been absent as of late is due to the death of my Grandfather. He was very sick, as I had mentioned in my previous post, so we knew that his time with us was comming to a close. That doesn’t make his death any easier. It stings extra hard because I was going to say goodbye to him the afternoon that he died after I had finished babysitting my niece, but he passed that morning.
I was not at all prepared for how upset my six year old son was going to be. When he got home from school that day I told him the news. Later that night I went into is room where he was crying. He doesn’t really understand death, but he knows that he will miss his Great-Grandfather. When I explained the concept of the viewing, that he could say “Goodbye” and that while Grandad couldn’t respond, he could see and hear us, Aidan said, “Oh, he’s in a hot air balloon or something?” Something like that buddy.
For the viewing and church funeral (the burial hasn’t happened yet as it takes Arlington National Cemetary about a month to scheduale a burial) a good deal of family flew in from California, Denver, New Jersey, Alabama, etc. The same family that has shunned me for years, has refused to speak or look at me to be perfectly honest was now in the same room, restaurant. Some of them would awkwardly say hello and ask about the kids. Let me be clear that this is not all of my family, it is just some and they are both in state and out of state.
If looks could kill… Listen, I know that I fucked up a time or two when I was in my active addiction. I have apologized however. These are people who pride themselves on their Catholic upbringing, yet look at me and my husband, my sister and her boyfriend like we are parasites.
They are like a lot of people who feel that they are above anyone who has struggled with addiction not realizing how easy it is to get sucked in. People also fail to understand that addiction forever changes the chemical makeup of your brain making relapse so easy. We do not want to relapse anymore than a person with cancer wants their disease to come back, it just does.
Likewise, we are not stupid, lazy, bad people. We try to overcome our disease, we try to make amends for our past transgressions. We try to move on, but often it is the judgement of others that holds us back. In fact, a great deal of the time, people refuse to seek help for their addiction because they know who they will be treated and looked at for the rest of their life once people know the truth about them.
I just don’t understand why even people who know that it is wrong to discriminate against others due to race or religion or gender feel like it is perfectly acceptable to look down upon someone who has the disease of addiction. We are people too. Honestly people have gone through and beaten addiction are some of the kindest, strongest, smartest, and most compassionate people out there. We have fought tooth and nail to achieve and to maintain our sobriety. We have spit on and discriminated against. We have seen people and their lowest and have worked through the depths of our despair.

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Hiding In Plain Sight

So, my seasonal job seems to have turned into a permanent position, which is fabulous. That was what I wanted to begin with. I figured that Christmas was a good time to get my foot in the door so to speak. Also, my kids have birthdays in the end of November and the beginning of December, so I figured that worst case scenario, I would make some extra loot during the holidays and have some experience in the field that I want to have an eventual career in.
Well, it is February now, and week 1 of the retail year, and I am still employed. I absolutely love it there. I have gotten quite a few positive guest feedbacks on our surveys that we invite all our patrons to take. I love the people that I work with as well (for the most part – of course there are a couple of people that I don’t get along with). It is all women save for one gay man, and they all are as obsessed with makeup as I am. It is fun to have a place where I can be around people who have the same passions as me, and I am privy to what new products are coming out as well.
The one single issue that I find that I have is the same one that I have had at every other job, hiding my history. For one, I feel that it would truly cost me my job. Not so much my past drug convictions or assualt arrest, but my numerous theft arrests and subsequent convictions. See, we have a problem with thefts at my store. Ironically we sell a good deal of what I used to boost, but thank God, I never stole or tried to steal anything from my store. There was a big crackdown a few years back on all of the pawn shops in Baltimore that took all of the stolen pharmaceuticals, so no one really has a place to sell that stuff any more.
No, no one is stealing razor blades or Olaay’s from my work. No, they go for fragrance. That and the Urban Decay “Naked” palettes.
Since I have been employed there, I have seen a fellow employee get fired for theft of some sort. I don’t thi that she was physically stealing so much as helping or enabling someone else to steal. Obviously I wou never do anything to jeopardize a job that I love in a field that I love, but would my manager see that? Or if she knew my record would suspicion always be cast my way when ever there is a theft during a shift of mine?
As for the new friends that I am making, would they still like me if they new that I am a recovering heroin addict? It is easy to say that if they would care then they are not people to be friends with anyway, but it is not that simple. I have a very hard time opening up to people and making friends. I don’t want to ruin any chance of making new friends by sabotaging my chance by revealing a past that they really have no business of knowing.
I do feel in a way that after all of the progress that I thought that I had made, maybe I haven’t made as much as I thought after all. Maybe I should be confident enough to say fuck them if they can’t handel my past. I feel like I have been able to own my addiction, but I guess that I am not as secure in myself as I thought. Or maybe, I am allowed to have some secrets. Maybe we all do. Maybe my past is none of their business as I honestly am an entirely different person than I was back then.

Fears

Last year I wrote about regrets, about how as human beings, but especially as active and recovering addicts, we must learn to live with regrets. This post is about learning to live with fears and overcoming fears.
In some ways, I fear almost nothing. Except for snakes- they scare the living shit out of me. As far as other people go, I don’t really fear people too much. Humans are going to do what they are going to do, and there is no sense in me fretting over it. Example, I am not particularly afraid of guns. I have had friends murdered before, and I have been robbed at gun point before. My husband, sister and good friend were saved by the grace of God, when a revolver pointed st point blank range jammed twice (and revolvers DO NOT jam). So, I know very well what guns can do, and I do feel like there should be tighter restrictions upon getting guns. The thing is though, nine times out of ten, when someone pulls a gun on you they have it pre-determined whether they are going to just use it to scare you, or kill you. Freaking the fuck out most certainly will not help you out, in fact, it may farther the likelihood that the person will pull the trigger.
Likewise, I feel like when I watch movies and they put a gun to someone’s head and force them to do shit like dig their own grave and jump in it, no fucking way – just shoot me. I feel like free will may be the last thing that I would be possessing in that situation, so just kill me.
Oddly however, I am really quite afraid of death. It is actually something that I think about on almost a daily basis. I hope that when It is my time, I am at peace with the thought of death and am ready to go. I am religious and fully believe in heaven and hell. I fear not being a good enough person to make it to heaven. I try every day to be a good person, but perhaps my sins of the past are to much to overcome. I hope not.
Ever since I turned 30 in May, I have had like a major mid-life (quarter-life?) crisis. I feel as though I have accomplished nothing in my life thus far. I am just no getting started towards a career that I love. I am smart, I had a full scholarship at one of the top schools in the country, and I fucked it all up. Add my criminal record to all that, and I screwed a lot up in my life. I am saving up to go to school to get my makeup artistry certification later this year.
I did everything ass backwards. Most people that I graduated from high school with are just now having their first babies. They are well established in their careers though. I have a nine and six year old, and am just starting my carreer aspirations.
I briefly hit on this last post, but my greatest fear in life is that my children make the same mistakes that my husband and I made. They may not be as lucky as we were. Many addicts do not make it out alive. I fear that they will discover how off the chain we were and use this as a reason, an excuse, to use copious amounts of drugs.
Even more terrifying for me, is the fear that my daughter will discover that I used heroin for part of my pregnancy with her and refuse to speak to me because of it. She and I were both clean when she was born, but she may not understand the intricacies of detoxing off of heroin while pregnant.
I hope that 2015 will be the year that I start to overcome my fears.

2015, A New Year, A Time For New Growth

This is the time of the year when everyone makes their New Year’s resolutions. Me, I’m not much for resolutions per se, I find that 90% of the time they are impractical and people end up breaking them anyway. What I am about is straying to better oneself. Of course this is something that we should all be working on anyway, but we often forget to do it.
Last year, I got back into Tibetan Buddhism again. It has always been something that I studied, but in 2014, I got back into inserting those teachings into my life. Something that I had not been in the habit of doing when I was getting high all day everyday. I find that for me, personally, Buddhism gives me a great deal of peace, something that I have been searching for my entire life.
One thing that I am going to try this year is to stop be so fucking afraid of failing and go after my dreams. I got a seasonal job at Ulta Beauty, and it seems that I will stay on as a permanent employee, so I have gotten my foot in the door. I have talked to some of the girls that I work with who have a makeup artistry license, and they told me of a really good, world renowned school in our area. My goal is to just do it.
I think that anyone who is a parent wants a better life for their children than the one that they had. I don’t really know when or why I started to become so self destructive. I honestly feel like I was born with a hole or a void in my heart and soul. The death of my father and my subsequent rape (not to mention being molested as a a young child) served to farther stretch this hole. Looking back, I don’t know if I was trying to fill the void or just numb the pain of it being there.
I am well aware of the statistics of children of addicts and their likelihood to become addicts themselves. It is most definitely a gene that is passed on, and my kids get it from both sides. I am terrified to think that they may go down the same road as me and my husband.
I am very conflicted on how to broach the subject of drug use with my children when they are of that age. Do we tell them about our struggles, arrests, the hell that we both personally went through? Will this serve to scare them straight so to speak or will the see this as an excuse to use drugs? Sort if like we would be hypocrites to tell them that drugs are bad?
My daughter is so much like me in so many ways. She is such a rule follower. A goody two shoes of sorts, but so was I. I was probably one of the LAST people that one would expect to develop a heroin addiction. From my family history, my upbringing, my graduating at the top of my class, going to college on scholarship with honors, never getting in trouble of any sorts. That is the thing, drug addiction doesn’t care who you are, it can strike anyone, anywhere, at anytime.
Not just for 2015, but for the rest of my kids childhood, I am constantly working towards being the best mother that I can. Most importantly I want to be a good role model. These are “resolutions” that I can keep.

The Hidden Strength and Resilience of Addicts

I have read that there is not a person walking this Earth stronger than a recovering addict. To say that I agree whole-heartedly is an understatement. I would actually even go one step further, and speak to the strength of most addicts.
The strength and will power that it takes to get off of drugs, especially ones that are both mentally and physically addictive, is a intense, brutally painful journey that most people will never fully appreciate. To be a heroin/opioid/methamphetamine addict is to live a life where ever day is an immense struggle. You wake up sick. Puking, diarrhea, running nose, back and leg spasms, hot and cold sweats, restlessly twitching, spitting flem non-stop, etc. You have to come up with the money to fuel your daily habit (which in my case was about a grand a day for myself and my hubby). Then when you obtain your funds, you have to cop, and this can be a job in and of itself. Obviously it is illegal to buy heroin. If the dope that you get is from a shop set up on a corner (which is how a lot of the best shit is) you have to get out of your car and run up into a hot ass alley wait in a line, get hit, hope that they have as many as you want by the time you get to the hitter, and run back to your car hoping and praying that a cop doesn’t drive by and see you (this risk is doubled if you are white and “don’t belong in the area”). Even if you have a dealer that you meet, you still have to watch out for cops. If you don’t have something to get (your dealer is on hold, what your were getting fell off, whatever) then you have the added struggle of trying to figure out what to buy.
It seems so simple to say, “If you have to go through all of this bullshit everyday, why do it.” The first, easiest, and simplest answer is that you are sick as fuck without it. Then people ask, “Well, don’t you only stay sick for three days? That’s not too bad.” Yes and no. The main, initial period of hellish withdrawls only lasts between three and four days. Of course, you have to keep in mind that you cannot sleep during these three days, so it is a LONG 72-96 hours. What people don’t realize that after the initial detox period, there is like another month or so of not being able to sleep, of your back aching. The cravings never fully go away.
It is so much easier to get high. The strength involved with an addict waking up everyday and not on,y deciding not to use, but to actually follow through with that decision is nothing short of a small miracle.
The stigma that society throws on us, the “Once an addict always an addict” mentality, would make a weak person snap and go back to using. I actually do agree that an addict is always an addict, it is actually proven that our brains never go back to the way it was before addiction took ahold of it. That’s not what I mean, however. I’m referring to the way my aunt clutches her purse to her side with a death grip at my grandmother’s funeral years after I last used. I’m talking about how my husband’s family automatically assumes that any sickness that either of us get is definitely withdrawls. You know because former addicts never get the stomach flu. The strength that it takes to quietly defend your character on a daily basis is monumentus.
Active users are much stronger than people give them credit for as well. Drugs can drastically change who you are. If you are able to maintain both a heroin/meth/coke/pill addiction and your morals, no one can ever doubt your inner strength. It is so easy to sell your soul to the devil, sell your body for far too little, and fuck over everyone who cares about you. To not take the easiest way out (whatever that may be at that time) is to take on and win against Satan himself.
My point is this, if you are a recovering addict, don’t ever let anyone take that from you. You have accomplished a feat of inner strength that could rival Hercules. If you are an addict who is still in active addiction, you have it in you. You are stronger than you probably even realize. Look how much you go through on a daily basis, and you are still here. Don’t ever let anyone take that from you.

Movin’ On Up?

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I wanted off by apologizing for not posting in a little over a week. Shit’s been hectic to say the least. I started working (yeah!) at Ulta Beauty. I was a little nervous to go back to work, as I have been a stay at him Mother since the middle of 2011. My husband was laid off about two months ago and has not started back to work yet, and it is Christmas time, so now seemed like a good time to start. I have been wanting to break into the beauty industry for awhile now, and Ulta is one of my favorite stores in the world. Stores always higher extra help around the holidays,so I applied. While it is only part time, it helps with money, and I love it. I get to work with makeup everyday, and my co-workers are awesome. Hopefully this leads to eventually becoming certified as a makeup artist.
I have also been busy with Thanksgiving and my children’s’ birthdays. My daughter turned 9 on November 28. I had to go into work at midnight on Thanksgiving and got off at six am on Black Friday. It sucked, but hey, I was off in time to celebrate my daughter’s birthday. My son turns 6 on December 11. Obviously, money is EXTREMELY tight the last couple of months in the calendar year.
As an addict in recovery, I find that staying busy is important. Fuck, it is vital, imperative to my sobriety. Boredom is one of the most dangerous things to a drug addict. Of course the first struggle is to get to the point where you are not waking up puking all over yourself, drenched in cold sweats, twitching, rolling around trying to get comfortable with shooting pain in your back, and restless leg syndrome. The mistake that people tend to make is that once the ills are gone they think that they are “cured”, that they are no longer an addict. Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way.
When you are in active addiction, you spend the vast majority of your day either getting high or doing activities that are somehow related to getting high (boosting, hustling money in some sort of way, trying to cop, ducking the police, etc). The immense amount of time that is freed up when you sober up is nothing to play with. You truly do not know how to fill your time. Often, you end up getting high, simply as something to do.
Of course, it is a good idea to stop hanging out with the people that you were using with, but sometimes people think that as long as they cut ties with their “get high@ friends, then they are safe. This does nothing to account for the devil that is within all of us. It sounds so cliche, but your addiction really does want to kill you. It will constantly try to trick you into thinking that getting high to relieve your intense boredom won’t hurt anything. Honestly, it might not hurt anything, that ONE time. The problem is that is very hard to keep it to that one time, and getting high daily WILL hurt.
Having something to do is the number one reason why I am so thankful to have gotten the job. The fact that it is in a field that I love is just a cherry on top!

Living and Loving with Severe, Clinical Depression

I came across a brief article the other day that discussed how difficult it was to be in a relationship, to be in love, with another person while severely depressed. This is not a particularly new topic, but whenever I read an article about depression and love, it is talking about how hard it is to love someone who struggles with depression. This was talking about how hard it is to love someone when you struggle so severely to love or even like yourself.

Don’t get me wrong, I do not in any way think that it is easy to be in love with a person who has severe depression or bi-polar disorder or anxiety. We are a moody bunch to say the least. We push the very people away that we want in our lives more than anything. We pick fights for no reason, we cry and scream for hours at a time.

The struggle of a depressed person to be in love is almost insurmountable. I have been married for almost a decade. For 10 years, I have been with the same man and yet I still have trouble believing that he loves me.

It can be virtually impossible to believe that someone can stand to even be around you when you hate yourself with such a fierce disdain that it is palpable. There are days when I literally hate myself to the point where I would prefer to stay in bed, asleep, simply to not have to deal with myself.

My whole life has been spent pushing people away, and now I am in a position of trying to keep so done close, and it is terrifying. For one, I don’t really know how to NOT push someone away. I find myself doing something only to later realize how fucking stupid it was. I take shit way too seriously, I dwell on everything. Most of all, I second guess why someone would even like me at all. I worry that eventually I will convince him that I am such a terrible person after all. It’s almost like I am pulling off some massive con and any day now the jig is gonna be up.

I think that in a way we are set up to hVe difficulty in relationships. It is drilled into your head as a young person that you should not or cannot love another person until you love yourself. What if you hate yourself?

I also fear that perhaps I love my husband too much. Like maybe I love him far more than myself and will do things that are not healthy for myself. Would I even know if I were to engage in unhealthy relationship behavior.

I told my husband very early on in our relationship that I  often get sad, suicidaly sad. That a good deal of the time these crying fits will seemingly be brought on for no reason at all. It doesn’t always take something big to set me off. Funnily enough, I feel like being an addict has helped with this. I went through so much bullshit that it helped me to put some of the smaller things into perspective. Nothing seems so “life or death” to me anymore, except for life and death.

I still have my bouts of terrible sadness, however. I warned my husband, but I can tell that he had absolutely no idea what he was really getting into with me. What if I am not worth all of the trouble, all the shit that I put him through? I try to make up for all of this by being the most loyal person that I can think of. I give a lot of love. I may not show any love to myself, but I try to show it to him. That being said, if I am incapable of loving or even liking myself, how effectively can I show love to someone else?

I truly believe that  people like myself deserve love and are capable of giving love out. It is a challenge to be sure, but maybe anything that is worth it is.

We Are Not the Same, I am a Martian

 

“Bitch, I’m a motherfucking Martian/ I’m a goddamn zombie.” – ‘Martians vs. Goblins’ by The Game

Last night, I was  practicing spooky Halloween looks on myself and my children. I found a makeup academy that I will likely enroll in once the new year hits, and I have been learning and practicing all sorts of makeup tricks. I have only been working on practical makeup applications however. If I one day want to be a makeup artist, I need to know how to do special effects makeup. So, I traveled to Walgreens and bought a Halloween makeup kit and got to work.

I was trying to think of what looks to do, what would be something scary for me and/or my husband to be when we take our children trick-or-treating tonight. I am also doing my kids makeup. My son is a Swamp Creature, so he gets creepy makeup, but my daughter is (one of the millions) Elsa, so she is getting very pretty, soft makeup.  Anyway, it occurred to me that perhaps the scariest thing that I could do woul

What is more terrifying - a zombie apocalypse or realizing that you or your kids could become addicts?
What is more terrifying – a zombie apocalypse or realizing that you or your kids could become addicts?

d be to accentuate my track marks and scars, and go as a junkie. Too be even more terrifying, I could dress up as a lawyer or a doctor and have a needle in my arm.

Even though there are literally millions of people in America struggling with substance abuse, it is still terrifying for people to think that any of those people could be in their neighborhood or even,a God forbid, in their family. Still, in 2014, we as addicts are forced to remain in the shadows, to keep our struggles silent for fear of retribution and ostracism.

My own mother, who has two daughter who are addicts, often remarks about how shocked she is to see certain people at my methadone clinic whenever she gives me rides. “That person is so old, what are they doing here?”, or, “That person is a (fill in doctor, nurse, UPS driver, person in an expensive suit), where they using heroin too?” I always tell her that first off, a person theoretically could have never used heroin a day in their life, but still very much need the assistance of a methadone clinic. Nowadays, the prescription pill addiction problem is at epidemic proportions. So many doctors hand out prescriptions for Percocet, OxyCotin, Vicodin, or what have you like they are giving out Advil. They don’t even usually ask or try to find out if the person has a history of substance abuse. The thing is, though, that if a person takes any opioids for a long enough period of time, they WILL become addicted. It is just a fact. Now if you are not pre-dispositioned to addiction (I.e. one or both of your parents, or grandparents were addicts), or if you have never previously been physically addicted to anything (thus forever altering your brain chemistry), then it will take you longer to become addicted, but you will eventually.

See, despite what a lot of people want to say or think about people who struggle with the living hell that is substance abuse, is that it is not simple a matter of will power. These are very powerful drugs.the fact is that taken for a long enough period of time, your brain and body will NEED them to simply function at all.

I actually don’t have a problem with doctors giving people these medications if they truly need them. Some people are going to be on these meds for the rest of lives due to chronic pain, so dependence is not really an issue. The problem comes for the people for whom the doctors decide after six months r however long, that they are no longer in need of these pain pill, that their pain should be manageable with over the counter medications and home remedies. I find it incredibly irresponsible to just one day, after months and moths of giving a person powerfully addictive medicines, to say, “No more for you!”

I wish there was some sort of law where doctors were forced to give patients a prescription for suboxone or methadone for a very brief period (decreasing the dose daily as to not trade addictions), or ween them off of the pain pills slowly once they determine that the need for these medications with regards to the patient’s pain level is not there any longer. They should also probably make, or strongly recommend that the person attend NA meetings, or they should at least make them take some sort if class on addiction and the brain.

Patients who have no history of addiction in themselves or in their family will not think they need any of this. The problem is that more than likely, they have never gone a day or two without taking any of these pills since having their script, so they do not know that they are addicted. A lot of these people find out the hard way that they are addicted and turn to illegally buying what they previously prescribed. Now they are “junkies” and “worthless”. Funny how that works. Some of these people end up at the methadone clinic.

I also try to explain to my mother, and to others, that if I have learned one thing from my years of waiting in lines to cop, is you never know who you will see in the hole. Addiction does care about class, race, gender, socio-economic status, or your job, it hits all walks of life. It can sink it’s claws into a millionaire as easily as a homeless person.

I think that that is the aspect of addiction that is so petrifying to people, especially wealth, educated, WASP sort of people. A lot of people that are outside of the “ghetto” feel safe and comfortable believing that addiction stays within the confines of the projects, that it does not venture into the suburbs. Seeing a middle or upper class business person as a drug addict is scary because it means that they are not safe. It is almost like holding up a mirror, but it is reflecting back a version of themselves if they got into a car accident a need a script for pain pills. It is almost their life. It is easy for people to ignore what they perceive as far away from their own lives. Maybe this is why we as addicts are shunned so much. People do not want to look closely enough to see that we are no different from them.

Too Close For Comfort

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We are in Kenny’s apartment. Actually this is the basement of a row-house where each level is a separate apartment. Kenny and Ceil took the area that is supposed to be a storage area for all three apartments and turned it into their house. They did this by just straight Debo-ing it. Anyway, we had got on and were smoking ready. The problem was that we had nothing to come down with.
So here we were in this basement, in the middle of July in Baltimore. No AC. No fans. Sweating extra profusely because of the coke. It was going to majorly suck ass to have to go out for hours boosting all hoped up. Not to mention the fact that I would be extra paranoid due to the coke. (I was already paranoid enough because of the FTA warrants, I believe it was two at that time, that I had.) We knew that we had to get some dope, like ASAP.
The stores within the city lines are blazing hot. That is if they even have anything worth stealing out. There was a store that was like almost right on the Baltimore City/Baltimore County line that we would hit occasionally. It was technically within the county jurisdiction, and was shockingly easy to hit. (For a time that is. I eventually got locked up there, but another story another time.) Now, this wasn’t the kind of place that you would go to in order to pull out a few hundred, this was a place for situations like this.
We asked Kenny if he wanted to ride with us, and he did. I went in and was disappointed to see that they didn’t have much at all. I don’t remember what I ended up getting, but I was able to pull out about $40 worth of shit. We went to the pawn shop and cashed in. Next up was Red Dot.
Now, when you went down Franklintown Road once you crossed over Baltimore Street there was a few dope and coke shops before you hit Frederick Avenue and the Westside Shopping Center. The first of which was Red Dot. The next street was Jigga which we got on and off for years, but at this particular moment Red Dot was better. We pulled down the street and saw a cop car driving down Franklintown. We kept driving and circled the block. We then came back down and pulled up to the hitter. We told him that we wanted three. He came back with them. Aaron handed him the money and received the pills. “Watch out,” the dude told him, “Cops been watching us all day.” Aaron handed me the pills which I placed in between the lining of my panties. We pulled back out on to Franlintown, continuing on the one-way until we hit the light at Frederick. As we turned right on Frederick, here came like three cops with the lights on. Visions of Central Bookings danced in my head.
Ok. Pause. Aaron is driving because the car we had at that time was a stick shift, and I am not what you would call good at driving stick. At all. His license was suspended. Like I mentioned previously, I had two FTA warrants. Kenny had a warrant as well. Oh, and the car was my mothers. Mine was in the shop. Also, the first thing that uniformed officers in the city (as opposed to the knockers) ALWAYS did when they pulled you over was run your name for warrants, and check your license. They come across so many people people with warrants, and suspended or revoked licenses that it makes their job easier. See, if you have a warrant out for your arrest, then they have an automatic legal reason to search your car.
They pull up and demanded the dope. We told them that we didn’t know what they were talking about, that we were just taking Kenny home. He did live like less than a quarter mile from where we were stopped. They proceeded to explain in excruciatingly exact detail what had happened. Clearly they had motherfuckers on the roof somewhere cause they described the dude who hit us, dreads and an orange shirt, the order in which everything happened, who payed, everything. “Ok,” we said. “You saw us give him money, but you didn’t see him give us anything. He fronted us a couple pills this morning, and we were paying back or we wouldn’t be able to cop from them.” “No,” they said, “She has it.” So, they pulled us all out of the car.
The female officer walked me over to these steps off of the road that lead to a church or something and patted me down. She grabbed the cups of my bra and shook them out. Next she made me pull down my pants. You should know that Frederick is a main road. She told me to hold the crotch of my panties with my thumb and forefinger and shake my underwear from side to side. The three pills were in a cigarette cellophane in between the outer fabric and the cotton gusset. I put my finger and thumb on the bag to further secure it and did as I was told. Disappointed in her futile effort she walked me back to the car where they tore it apart. Funny thing was, in their haste of assuming that they had us dead to rights, they forgot to run any of our names. If they had, they would have had us dead to rights.
Eventually they gave up. “I think it’s up inside her,” the female cop bemused. They told us to get the fuck out of there. We went back to Kenny’s and got on and I had one of the best highs of my life.