Monday, March 7, 2016


When I started this 100 days of blogging project, I thought I'd talk about some of the harder things I've been through from the perspective having gotten to a better place. Things were pretty good, I thought, it's a good place to be to look back on those kinds of things. And while there was some minor unrest in my home life and relationship, I felt like things were pretty solid for myself, personally.

Turns out, I had no idea what was happening right under my nose. It's amazing how one intuitive moment clicking into place can catalyze a whole avalanche of chaos. "Go look in his car" something told me. I had no idea what I was looking for. I just knew I should check it out. Go look. See what's in the car.

Lots of lighters strewn about. Kinda wierd for someone who quit smoking cigarettes two months ago. I noticed it smelled smoky too. Not a lot like cigarettes, but smoky. A pile of maybe 25 king size Milkyway wrappers on the passenger floorboard. newspaper, jackets, a roadside emergency kit, random crap all over and a roll of aluminum foil in the back seat. Finally, in the center console where someone might toss a pack of gum, alongside a couple of keys, a gum wrapper and a glitter covered foam ball from my voodoo doll costume from Halloween before last, was the plastic sleeve of a pen, cut to about 3 and a half inches long, burnt on one end and coated inside with some kind of resin.

My heart pounded and I really wasn't sure what I was looking at. I picked it up, looked through it, smelled it. Just smelled like smoke.. kind of like wood smoke? Nothing distinctive to me, not that I would know how to identify any drug other than weed by what it smells like when smoked. I put it back and went inside. I went back outside to look at it probably another 3 or 4 times just to be sure I saw what I thought I saw. Finally I took a picture, and went inside and googled things like 'what kind of drug can be smoked with a plastic pen pipe,' 'what does a used crackpipe look like,' and 'what does crack resin smell like.'

I was already going to break up with him. I knew he'd lied about money and had been deleting texts, and in general had just been a lackluster boyfriend. It was over. But I was going to get a rent check and then give him until the end of the month to get out. I'd prorate the days he left early and refund any days necessary. That was the plan. And then I checked the car. I paced around for a few minutes trying to gather my thoughts. I looked at him sleeping in the bed, oblivious. "You idiot." I thought. I considered what I should do. Do shake him awake and tell him to get out right now? No. I need a better plan than that. I need backup.

I'll call his mom. I'll tell her everything and get her help. Maybe she'll force him into rehab and help escort him out of my house. I considered how hard it might be to hear on the phone. I went to her home. We sat sat down with a cup of tea after making small talk about the different paint samples patched along her bedroom wall. "He doesn't know I'm here. There have been some problems."

I started at the beginning, with the coke habit he had when I met him, that he allegedly swore off because I didn't want it in my life, and walked her through to the pipe. I showed her the picture. We settled accounts of how much money she'd lent him, versus what he gave me for bills, and what was missing. I called a friend of his to make sure he had a place to crash for a night or two. While I was talking to his mother, he texted me that he was going to go meet up with his dealer under the guise of baseball practice. Just gonna toss the ball around. right.

I told him to meet me at home in 20 minutes. When he arrived, I said "Hi. You need to pack your things and you need to leave. You don't live here anymore, and we're not together anymore." He played dumb at first and asked why. "So many reasons, but today the top of the list is that I found your crack pipe." More playing dumb. What are you talking about? My what? "Your crack pipe. In your car. Get your things and go."

It seemed as though he thought it would soften my stance and garner some sympathy to tell me about what he'd been struggling with. He was having a real hard time with something and had kept it from me (no shit). After dancing around it a moment, the word "Heroin" just hung in the air a few seconds. Smoking heroin for the last 3 months.

I gently ushered him out after double checking that he'd grabbed all the essentials. While he was in the bathroom once during the 2 hour conversation and packing process, I took the keys to my house off his key ring, and gathered all the other keys to the house and garage and stashed them out of sight. I am a compassionate person, but I am not a stupid person. I have seen all manner of outlandish behavior resulting from addiction. I know better than to mess around or waver in my stance.

This was all yesterday. I'm already road-weary and it's just the beginning.

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for sharing this publicly. And grrrl I am so glad how you handled the keys. Hugs always.