2015 was an experiment. The amount of freedom from owning my own home to living the single life made me go into super hero mode.
2014 I made friends with a heroin addict detoxing in a previous psych ward. 2015 I'd let him crash a few days a month the days he was sober. We never slept together which made an enjoyable friendship. However a junkie can only be as much of a friend a junkie can be. A few days a month turned into everyday for a few months. This was after a fellow musician moved himself in. Then came my beautiful friend Janis.
I'll never forget the night my friend Janis moved out. That night a tiny girl my musician buddy knew came by to hangout. They went to the bathroom and I heard the shower. Assumed he was getting laid, whatever. About an hour later I noticed water running from under the bathroom door. What I saw after opening that door was my junkie friend in shock, and the tiny girl laying on the floor. I turned to the shower, and there laid my musician buddy with water running on him.
"I don't know what happened they must have OD'd! Call 911 I have warrants I'll be back in an hour".
I begged that junkie to stay, help, because I had no idea what to do. After calling 911 they told me to get him out of the tub and lay them both flat. I didn't think it'd be so hard getting a limp body out of a tub. When I spoke to him his eyes rolled back, purple lips, green face. The paramedics had to chop my bathroom door off since he was so tall. Two men carried the tiny girl like a princess to my living room. One man dragged my friend by one arm into the living room. They asked all this info about the little bitch dying on the floor. I dumped her purse out and syringes poured all over along with an ID and healing stone. If I hadn't been there I truly believe my friend wouldn't have been revived. I kept telling them I didn't care if that girl dies on my floor to help my friend. They found dope in her pocket, karma's a bitch.
My buddy returned in a hospital gown and blanket later that night. I've never been so happy to feel a heartbeat in a hug. It was hours ago he was almost dead.
Yes, he and my junkie friend continued to live with me. Making them junkie 1 and now junkie 2.
The police once told me "hang around the barber shop long enough you're gonna get a haircut". I didn't want a haircut yet I lived with two barbers. Junkie 1 was kicked out after stealing my medication on my birthday. Junkie 2 was kicked out after I grew a pair and learned to lock my windows.
Junkie 1 was doing good last we spoke. Admitted himself to a long term rehab. Clean for 3-months before hand while incarcerated from turning himself in for the warrants. That's the last I want to speak to him. Knowing after doing all I can to help he's finally helping himself.
The gorgeous man aside me in the picture is half the reason I never "got a haircut". He made me his, protects me, supported me to pursue child care again, and I've even found God to an extent from our talks. This year we've begun renovating the house. The other day I woke up to three walls painted, one with a chalkboard for when I watch munchkins. He truly loves me and I truly love him. It's strange because I've never been in love. But like Janis Joplin once said "I just love being in love".
I'm done observing the metro Detroit junkies. Enough data has been collected. I've got so much more to pursue for my own future and mental health. Plus as my brother always tells me "You can't save the world Micaela". He's right, I can only save myself.