Things calmed down a bit the weekend after mine and Kevin’s fight.
Becca and I went all out the days following. Drinking and getting high with her boyfriend and his roommate and an out of town friend of theirs. It was an absolute blast, with little to no issues that was extremely rare for Becca and me.
After that weekend though something changed in the air and we calmed down. We didn’t drink much and our drug use slowed to the normal weed smoking and enough dope to keep us steady.
We spent some time living like normal roommates (the drugs aside). We hung out and watch movies. We cleaned the house together and listened to music. It was nice. It was calm.
At some point, it got back to its stressful chaos that we eased with drugs. Becca lost her job and well I had nothing except some government help but not enough to cover things on my own.
It didn’t take too long for us to lose the apartment. She ended up back home with mom and dad and I ended up unsure of where I was gonna go yet again.
It didn’t take long for Tom’s dad to get wind of what was happening. The man had known me since I was 6 years old. So he wanted to help. He didn’t want me on the street and he was wheelchair-bound at the time so it was good for him to have someone in the house.
So I moved my stuff in and Rob had some ground rules to the layout. He knew I was an addict and his only rule was that stuff was NOT to be in his house.
He didn’t care if I came home high (he would rather I was “home” than wandering around) but I could not use or store my shit in the house. The weed he didn’t care about as he occasionally smoked as well.
The hard shit though, absolutely not. Even Rob had his limits ( you wouldn’t think so if you had ever met him). And that was one of them.
Things worked out great for a long while. One thing or another happened I don’t recall what it was but I know it wasn’t drug-related and I moved out.
Right back to the place of uncertainty i hated to be in but couldn’t seem to find a way out of.
The hell realm of painful emotions frightens most of us; drug addicts fear they would be trapped there forever but for their substances. This urge to escape exacts a fearful priceGabore Maté