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Monday 8 January 2018

❤️ 1994 - 2015 - My Drugs Journey

So, how did it all start I hear you cry? Obviously I didn't start injecting drugs at 13. No one ever chooses or wants to grow up and be imprisoned in the chains of drug addiction.

But it is true what they say. Ok, not for everyone, but smoking cannabis can lead you down a slippery slope of drug destruction. I can bet that 90% of drug addicts started off on weed or alcohol. 

For me it all began around the age of 13, 14 I guess. I was doing well at school. No genius, but above average. At the age of 13 I was delighted to discover unscrupulous shop owners, were more than happy to sell under aged kids alcohol, just to make a couple of extra quid. 

The intrepidation of having to dress up, pile on the make up and act mature to buy the alcohol was just as exciting as gulping down K's cider, Diamond White cider, 20/20 Vodka and later Hooch and Two Dogs.

Hooch and Two Dogs were the most amazing creation ever. Ok, in comparison to today, the still taste gross, but back then, given the other options of alcohol, these tasted delicious. To this day, I still detest the taste of alcohol.



Around 14 I started going clubbing. Back then as long as you had a pair of decent boobs the bouncers let you in, no question asked. At first it was over 14 raves where you needed ID to buy alcohol. However their was never a shortage of over 18’s happy to buy drinks for us, and plenty of bottles of water with speed added into them. However, soon I progressed to over 18 nightclubs.

I discovered my cheeky-verging-on-naughty, erratic behaviour could be diffused with alcohol, so it quickly became a weekend staple due to the defusing effect it had on my ADHD. 

Soon alcohol was boring and I wanted a new buzz. Around this time a few of my friends had tried weed, and I wanted to try it too. The thought of smoking drugs sent tingles through my body, the same tingles I get now whilst waiting to score. I tried my first spliff at 14 whilst comatose from a huge drinking binge.

Cannabis was the beginning of my drug use. Prior to this I was adamantly against drugs, and at the time I was still very anti anything stronger. I was a karate champion and more into my sports. 

This is where I got my high. Winning karate fighting championships. I was unaware I had the disability ADHD at the time, but doing 8-10 hours of a strenuous activity of karate, enabled me to burn off the ball of anxious energy in my stomach. This meant I only had the ball of anxious energy, the self doubting one in my head.





By 16 I was buying weed regularly. The lure of skunk and weed grew as I soon discovered, the girl who struggled to quieten her mind, had this feat easily achieved by this delightful green plant classified as illegal.

This was the last time in my life I slept naturally without benzos, weed of alcohol.

My cannabis habit is what prompted me to quit karate aged 17 for fear I would be selected for a random sample at a tournament where my furious parents would be watching to add to my shame.

When I reached 18 I would be smoking weed daily in huge amounts in an attempt to self medicate my ADHD. This behaviour continued until I was 24-25. At one point each cigarette break I left the building choosing the bitter UK weather over the cosy smoking rooms of the late 90's early 00's, and smoked spliff after spliff attempting to soothe my head, and keep it calm.

The furious wind froze my slim figure to the bone. My fingers would change colour from scarlet pink to a dull blueish grey. But the calming effect it had on my chaotic head, was worth freezing for. 

I was the tender age of 17 when I tried cocaine and ecstasy. I immediately fell in love with cocaine. However, as a McDonald's employee my wages started at £3.15 and rose to a pitiful £4.78, meaning cocaine was a luxury. I couldn't afford £40 for a gramme lasting a few hours.

Ecstasy at £1-£10 per pill and lasting all night soon became my drug of choice (DOC). I could buy 100 pills for £100 and I only needed 1-2 for a good night out. The week long depression ensured I would continue to use again come the following weekend. I didn't associate the depression, with the come down from pills. 

After a night pilling off my face I would  spend 1-2 days after feeling shit, achy, tired, initially struggling to sleep. The week long depression which ensued after my nights out on E, was brushed off as being normal. 

It wasn't until I stopped taking E regularly that I realised the depression lifted. Only then did I come to the conclusion it was the ecstasy making me miserable. 

I would use ecstasy 2-4 times a week. During the week I would take half a pill, or maybe 1 whole pill taken in quarters. Over a weekend I could easily consume up to 4 pills on a mad night out. My record was 8, at Ministry Of Sound New Year’s Eve 2000 - 2001. These where the days when ecstasy was a very strong mix of MDMA and amphetamine. Well, clearly there were occasions when substances similar to LSD were also added to the mix. The pills I have had after 2007 have been mainly MDMA, which actually make me quite chilled, even sleepy. 

The old school pills kept you up all night, chewing your face off, violently vomiting when you ‘came up’, which often lead to you spraying any other party goers should you not make it to the toilet in time. 




Over time the price dropped from £10 to £1, if I bought in bulk. In order to recoup my costs I began to sell them £1.50 - £5. Close friends paid £1.50 - £2.50, so I still made a small profit. As far as I was concerned I deserved a little profit, as I was the one buying and storing a huge amount of pills. It was danger money.

Acquaintances or strangers got charged the higher price. If we were in pubs or bars the price would average at £3. In nightclubs I could easily command £5 from strangers. I would hear them protest and I would reply 'if you see someone more fucked than me, who'll sell you a pill for less, go for it. Otherwise I'll be dancing here'.

9/10 they came back. I'd enter the club penniless and leave with £50 in my pocket.

By 21, my new boyfriend didn't like me taking pills. So this was a big influence on my DOC changing to cocaine. By now I was earning considerably more money, so spending £40 for a gramme, was nothing. Most of my friends easily spent £100 on a night out, when you added up the cost of drinks, some nasty takeaway to soak up the alcohol and a taxi home.

Immediately I was hooked due to the calming effect it had on my brain. It took over from ecstasy and became something I'd use on average twice a week. Apart from the first couple of times I tried it, I soon realised alcohol was an important component of this high. Without it alcohol the high would be too jittery, you'd consume the gramme quickly counting down the minutes until it was acceptable to slip off to the toilet to do another line. 

Agitated, with taccacardia, you'd clench your teeth or cut your cheek gurning.

Alcohol smoothed the ride. With cocaine you could drink larger amounts and not end up mortal. You were chatty, sociable, fun, coherent. The life and soul of the party. 




I had also dabbled with speed, English speed, not crystal meth which is slowly now penetrating the London drug scene. Our speed is amphetamine not methamphetamine and is about ten times weaker. It's known as the poor man's cocaine. I had also tried LSD, poppers and Magic Mushrooms.

Then at 24 I met an old friend H****, who was into crack and heroin and being the type of person I am it didn't take long for me to follow suit.




It only cost £25 for a session where cocaine would cost £20-£40, and then the alcohol £10-£20, weed £10 and cigarettes £5-£10. Due to paying a mortgage saving money was preferable. I would smoke a heroin spliff first, then move onto the crack, having the odd weak heroin spliff throughout the night, before smoking the majority of the b (b, brown, heroin) at the end of the night so I could sleep. There was no grimy hangover, like the days after I had partied on cocaine. It’s well known that when you first use opiates / Heroin their is a rather deceptive after glow for 1-2 days. This gave the illusion of it being free from the usual suffering hangovers I had become accustomed to, which would hit me immediately the day after using ecstasy or cocaine. 

I've only ever smoked heroin in a splif when I had an addiction to it, occasionally off the foil and I only started smoking it when I began to score my own crack. 

Before I scored my own crack I would smoke with other users who had subutex (buprenorphine) prescriptions. They would let me sniff 1/2 to a whole 2mg.




When I began to score on my own I didn't have access to subbies. I had smoked b on these occasions. Due to the initial afterglow, those 1-2 days where all I felt was a little tired from the ridiculous time I would go to bed after my night of smoking; I certainly did not equate the night sweats, irritability, mild depression and slight body aches that I was regularly suffering come day 3 was related to myself withdrawing from subbies or B. 

How naive when I look back now.

So I started smoking crack and heroin more frequently. ‘I’ll get a good nights sleep’ I’d tell myself, after spending 3 or 4 nights tossing and turning, aching and sweating. 

I can remember telling my mother I believed my memory foam mattress was the culprit. ‘It makes me too hot’ I’d say. Still not realising the sleepless nights was the result of me withdrawing from the heroin smoked 3 days ago.

Pretty soon I was addicted to B. But as crack was my DOC, I would always purchase more of this than heroin. Initially it was 2 white and 1 dark, for £25. Soon 4 white and 2 dark for £50. This progressed until I was spending £100 a day on crack and heroin. 

Having a mortgage meant getting credit cards with £10,000 on them, was easy. 

At first I would make it to work, but by 10am I’d be tired, groggy and yawning. Tears streaming from my eyes. I’d be sweating one minute and freezing the next. 

I’d take my lunch break early and race to my dealer. By now I’d be feeling sick, and incredibly horny. If you didn’t know, opiates surpress your libido. So when you started to withdraw, you would feel horny as fuck.

Whilst waiting for my dealer to meet me, I’d set my phone to vibrate and sit on it. I’d orgasm within seconds. And would get 1-2 minutes relief from my withdrawal. Once scoring I’d drive a short distance away before stopping to skin up. I’d eagerly drag on the heroin spliff. Then, I’d open my car door and vomit. For some bizarre reason, when you’re sick withdrawing from heroin, when you finally smoked some, vomiting was inevitable. I’d maybe have a small blaze or two of my crack, before saving the rest for when I went home. 

Pretty soon I would ensure I saved a b spliff for the morning. And not long after I’d save the crack recycle too for the morning.

Recycle is when you scrap the inside of your pipe out, leaving you with a pile of brown powder filled with plastic or metal scrapings, depending on what you used for a pipe.

At the height addiciton I would smoke crack and heroin all day every day. I’d frequently visit the disabled toilet, standing on the toilet seat and exhaling the smoke into the extractor fan in a vein attempt to hide the smell. I worked in a place frequented with members of the public, meaning should anyone discover the smell of crack cocaine, the public, not staff would be the first point of call for placing any blame. 

Pretty soon, I was on my second £10,000 credit card when I went to withdraw my regular £100 when the machine bleeped and ‘Insufficient Funds’ appeared on the screen. 

As I had spent a ludicrous amount of money with my dealer M*** he kindly gave me £40 worth of heroin so I wasn’t sick over Xmas. But by now I was so used to smoking crack in order to be productive, whilst the heroin kept the awful withdrawal at bay, I was still miserable and unproductive.

However my addiction did not decline for another 2 months. I was temping at the time and discovered I was pregnant. My ex made it clear he would not support me financially. So I carried on using until my termination in January and only began to cut down in February. 




This was due to my maternal instinct kicking in so badly, I practically forced my cat allergic ex boyfriend into buying me two Bengal kittens. The first, a cheap runt, who I could only afford as the breeder reduced his price from £300 to £100. He was called Sinbad, but I had a student called Tsega. It’s an Eritrean name. The ‘T’ is silent, so it’s pronounced like the Sega as  in Sega Megadrive. It means gift from God and during this soul destroying misery I was consumed with daily, I felt I couldn’t find a name more fitting. Pretty soon Orion Pax joined Tsega. Named after Optimus Prime’s original name from the Transformer Movie. My ex chose the name and didn’t disclose the Transformer Movie bit. Orion means hunter and Pax, peaceful. So I had my peaceful little Hunter. 

Having my two fur babies meant I could no longer spend my last tenner on smoking when I needed kitty food.


 

Slowly but surely, I began to cut down on the amount of smoking I indulged in. 

Having ADHD meant smoking crack did not have any detrimental effect on the standard of my work. In fact, I won two awards for the work I did that year smoking crack and heroin daily. 

Come August, I had to change role. As I was a temp, my role, which was the easier of the two in the college, was snapped up by another staff member whose current role was being terminated. This meant moving to a much busier site, where all the senior managers worked.

Thankfully a good supply of subbies came my way. I slowly stopped smoking B every day and cut down smoking crack to 2-3 times a week, mainly in the evenings, but occasionally I would dance with the devil and have a little smoke at work. Still pretty bad, but much better than 6-7 times per week.

By 29, I had totally rid my heroin addiction, although I was still addicted to opiates through buprenorphine. I had a manageable addiction to crack smoking twice a week until aged 30 when I moved into my parents house to sell my flat.

This is when the legal high boom had reached its peak due to a substance called m-cat back in June 2013. I had been researching nootropics, but also began to research these legal highs or research chemicals. And this is when I discovered legal Ritalin. 

Due to a huge increase in work load I began to use it. It enables me to concentrate, complete complex tasks, keep focused and working after 5pm endeavouring to catch up.

But I never did catch up. I started off inhaling the ethylphenidate but it ruined my nose. I quickly realised diluting in water and using a syringe inserted into my back passage gave a much better high and less damaging.




When I got my Ritalin I stopped. I was still smoking crack occasionally and I stopped that too. Crack no longer had any effect on me. 

But the lure of ethylphenidate and legal highs grew stronger and stronger. This also coincided with meeting a fellow ADHD sufferer who was an IV Drug user. He was gay, and used meth. So was not your stereotypical IV Drug user. He was incredibly buff, clearly a body builder, and took incredible care of himself.

This ignited a fire inside me. I had always wanted to try heroin IV. So I did. And then one fateful day I thought to myself ‘I wonder if I can inject ethylphenidate?’. So, at 5am in the morning, just as the sun was getting bright, after spending another night awake using all night, I loaded the syringe with ethylphenidate, found a vein, flagged (drew back blood to confirm I was in a vein), and pushed the plunger.




Bang!!! 

Life over.

From that moment, not only was I addicted to ethylphenidate, but from that moment on, I only ever injected it. I couldn’t get out of bed without injecting myself, and couldn’t sleep without taking lethal amounts of opiates and benzos.




I stopped getting my Ritalin prescriptions around June.

October I was discovered.

Forced into detox in November. I was reinstated on Ritalin, but instead of being on 70mgs, my script halved to 35mg. 

I believe this was really irresponsible as the psychiatrist in the detox was aware my use of ethylphenidate was so severe due to me no longer getting a therapeutic effect from Ritalin. 

I returned to using. One day I’d take 70mg of Ritalin, the other I was back to banging up ethylphenidate.

January forced back into detox. Unfortunately I met Kate, who you’ll hear more about later. But she lied to the psyche saying I used to take my Ritalin to go out clubbing. I’m a fucking IV drug user. I don’t go clubbing. How the fuck am I smuggling my works in. Regardless to my protests, my prescription was stopped and I walked out, returning back to daily IV ethylphenidate use.

In April my parents lied to my drug psyche (I have written proof of this) and I was sectioned in Springfield. I smuggled my works, ethylphenidate, weed and benzos in their and used daily.

Towards the end of April I stopped injecting speed daily. Due to the horrendous abuse my family subjected me to. I reverted to smoking weed, crack and heroin instead.

Just to clear up any misconceptions, I'm not on benefits and have never claimed off the government. I am on long term sick, but was managing a large project earning £30k. 

I have a mortgage on a 3 bedroomed house. Have Merc. Kompressor (needs work atm), had Sky TV, hot tub, bar in garden, rescued pets, gave to charities, 

I'm intelligent and have GCSEs (10 passed with 6 graded A-C), A Levels (4), AS Level, C&G, NVQ Level 2, NVQ Level 3, IOSH (health and safety) Qualified, CPCAB (Counselling) Level 2, First Aid qualified and a Member of the Employability Institute meaning I can add MIEP to J** the Junkie (MIEP)

This is as well as other weird achievements like a catering qualification (McD's), 1Kyu Karate, Level 1 in kayaking and I think that's most of it.

I don't have any children, care too much for my pets, they're pampered. My cats had every toy from the Catit Interactive range, a £150 cat tree, fed raw meat, cooked meat, tuna and cat food. Whilst house cats they were walked daily. They even had cat DVDs.

My rabbit is never caged and is a house bunny with garden access.






I'm a good kind person. I just use drugs as my brain doesn't produce as much dopamine and serotonin as yours.

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❤️ Introduction - April 2015

From my hand written diary.... 

If you’re reading this and you’re not my privacy denying family and I’m either...

Famous 🤩, Published 🤑, or Dead ☠️

YOU know ‘some’ of the things my parents did under the guise of ‘psychosis’

Psychosis 🤪 By Mum 👵🏻 & Dad 👴🏻

Notes, memories, tarot readings from a time when I needed help and no one came.

But I’m sure you’re unaware of the full length of TORTURE I was subjected to from my ‘loved’ ones. 

I cannot even fully detail their ‘Prisoner of War’ style torture, for fear of being Sectioned.

I HAVE NO FAMILY 



How My Family Made Me Mad, Glad & Bad! - She'll be so crazy she’ll need more drugs to cope!


Jay - a rather successful person, trip and falls after losing her car, her home, being bullied at work, finding out the mother she used to love had cancer and losing her beloved pet. 


Her family decide sectioning her is the most successful way to ensure she refrains from intravenous ethylphenidate use.


Instead of helping her reach sobriety their actions make her so miserable her using sky rockets. And this is her story. 


Methylphenidate was snatched from me under cruel, unfair circumstances. Ethylphenidate, like its prescription only cousin, is a short acting stimulant. At the height of my addiction I was using between 1-3 grammes, intravenously, where I'd bang up 1/10th a gramme to 3/10th a gramme per hit. I'd do this from 10 to 20 times per day as my tolerance, combined with it's length of action, meant it lasted no more than an hour.


Waking up sober and indeed the numerous times during the day I faded back to sobriety, yet still suffering from their cruel actions under the guise of  psychosis, only drove me to use far more drugs. At least double the amount I used when I was able to use in peace. My useage was upped by 50% easily due to their action. Ultimately they are the reason why I lost my Concerta script resulting in the same consequences too. I was so addicted at one point I was unable to arise from my bed without hitting up first.


So enjoy my decent to hell.


This blog contains information from my iPad and subsequent phone emails, journals in notes and finally diaries and has been collated since my 20’s at the start of my drug addiction, declining to crack and heroin addiction. My brief moments of relative recovery and then my final decline when I hit rock bottom during my legal
High addiction which progressed to intravenous drug use.

The more you read the more you will understand why my psychiatrist was quick to get me two urgent drug detox admissions and the subsequent week’s admission in Springfield mental hospital.

The sad thing is, my parents actions only insured my drug use skyrocketed. Instead of showing me love and researching addiction, they turned their backs on me and researched psychosis in an attempt to recreate something a brain creates through sheer horror. 

I always have suffered from mental health. My ADHD was not diagnosed until my 30’s. Treated 32. I had suffered crippling addiction problems by this age. Self medication of my ADHD began at 13. These destructive habits were deeply engrained now. It would require a lot more than 10 days in detox to undo the damage all ready done.

At first it was cannabis and alcohol. They would soothe my hyper ADHD brain and enable to me sleep. From 16 was smoking cannabis daily.

Whilst it calmed my ADHD it also made me lazy. So my discovery of ecstasy and cocaine, it’s effect on my dopamine receptors was all I needed to quickly become addicted. This meant I was no longer relying on weed, which means no bingeing and being lazy. In fact I wouldn’t eat at all. 

However I could hold articulate conversations. I didn’t go off on a tangent. I could organise things, tidy, deal with paper work. I was efficient and effective.

The come downs where crushing. The misery, which whilst cocaine was generally a day, ecstasy could have you feeling blue all week.

Mind you, dropping from 12 stone (168lbs / 76.2kgs, to 8.7lbs (119lbs / 53.2kgs).

After ecstasy and cocaine was crack and heroin. I only ever smoked b in a spliff and crack was never injected. I did max out two  £10,000 credit cards and new I had to make some changes.

So, I kinda got clean. I changed to subutex, an opiate replacement like methadone. And changed to £60-£100 crack a week. Much better than £700 a week.

Then, whilst almost within reach of my Ritalin script, methylphenidate... the temptation to buy the legal high ethylphenidate was too consuming to ignore. I purchased it, along with numerous legal highs (I have easily take the over a 100 Drugs in my life... I must list them!)

You can find the majority of them listed in the ‘List of Drugs I’ve Tried’

The loss of my normal Concerta increased my self-medicating to daily.

If I am unable to get my Concerta prescription reinstated I will definitely purchase Ethylphenidate’s new replacement and revert back to self-medicating.

The events depicted in this blog are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental





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Friday 5 January 2018

❤️ 21st September 2015 - Journal

Haven't reported much recently. I've had my redundancy money, so apart from paying £2,000 to my mum for house improvements, I can now state, I am debt free!!

Credit cards and loan all cleared.

I've also started dating N. Well we want to get married. We've always been like a married couple, so why not.

There's conditions though. Let's see if he sticks to them!!

My mum is completely against me marrying him. But I want to settle down and have a family and being married first is important to me.


My best mate fucked up. Had a night at her's and me and N asked for a £20 of coke. Bought two bags of this yellow speed of K***'s mate and I don't know what it was, but it weren't speed. Whilst using the speed, K****'s other half came and sorted us all a line of coke. 

Dealer came...Fucking stayed the night. Kept asking me and N what was wrong with us coz N is quiet.

We used the bathroom to use. Then S**** is asking us to leave. He came cash point and I gave him the £20 as although it was a big draw, I asked for a £20 and repetitively spoke of going cash point for the £20 I owed them.

Next day I had a message along the lines of this from S****

'You took the piss last night. You took the coke I sorted you, you took a £40 and paid a £20. You are out of order and took the fucking piss out of me and K***'

My calls were ignored and my messages not replied to.

Then on Facebook K*** posted on my page

'You're a fucking needle junkie, all you do is bang up and spend all your time with N’

Page! Not personal message.

I deleted it. Sent them all messages along the lines of I left £20 of speed. Asked for a £20. You could have asked for £40 at cash point. N always leaves weed, me my legal diazepams. Gave them 10, my kanna, subutex. I've never screwed them for money. Only the Wednesday before I treated K***.

They denied writing the post and blamed it on her friend. She's a hypocrite as she wants me to come over and bang them up as they can't.

We are talking again. I just reinstated to tell me if I owed them in future.

Rehab
Kinda on hold. Waiting for my ADHD appointment first.

Using
Been pinning coke much to my shame. Still smoking crack too. But it's definitely 50/50.

However no addict tracks!! 

Signing off 

J

Monday 1 January 2018

❤️ 06th April 2015 - Journal Part 1

Another crazy day in this abhorrent household, being forced to communicate, live and survive with my destructive, heinous, loathsome ‘family’.

Well today I received an email from R***, my drug addiction Counsellor. She's asked to see me at 3pm on Monday. Her email was very unexpected. Recently I have neglected my counselling, so I knew due to her initiating communication the outcome could not be good.

It was filled with negativity and I could feel the apprehension R*** must have been consumed with whilst typing.

Dear Jay

It would be nice to see you. Can you do Monday at 3pm?’

Warm regards

R***’

The email was sent Friday, it was Monday now. In fact I only have a couple of hours to spare. Due to my chaotic, all consuming drug addiction, I had only noticed her request.

I hit reply saying

‘Hi R***’

Sure. I’ll be down shortly’

My drug use has sky rocketed, being the UK's most favourite junkie has certainly encouraged me to use more. As ethylphenidate has a relatively short half life, within half an hour, any euphoria has vanished completely, putting the carpet cleaner, of the same name, into second place.

By 2-4 hours any positive effects are slowly diminishing and the 'come down' starts to crescive slowly until negativity surpasses positivity.

My cool calm head starts to pick up its pace. As if I'm Lewis Hamilton, in a formula one racing car at Brands Hatch.

It jumps and flits from subject to subject, with no clear route from thought to thought. 'Look at the robin', 'that cloud looks like a fish', 'where can I bang up?', 'my jumper's itchy'. Thought after thought. Constantly, unrelentingly chaotic.

The anxiety begins to cause a pain in my chest. As if I have a large ball of spinning energy. The feeling of dread and doom radiating from the bottom of my rib cage, spreading through my body. 

The anxiety and chaos in my head is undoubtedly increased due to psychosis by mum and dad naturally, in turn, this increases my drug use.

I'm certainly not coping with this whilst being sober. If I'm having 'drug induced psychosis' I'm absolutely consuming the drugs.

This is what my crazy, evil family clearly cannot comprehend. Doing this shit only makes me use more. However they're in too deep now to admit they've clearly failed and their sick version of psychosis has only elevated my drug use.
Using speed was an imperative requirement to survive. It was a prerequisite of life. Air, food (albeit very little), water, shelter, warmth, sleep and speed.

❤️ Dear Shit Stirrer

Bar the title of this blog post, I NEVER have a bad word to say about you.

I’m the one who forces ‘N’ to see you. Otherwise he wouldn’t bother.

I don’t slag you off, nothing. Even though YOU introduced me to crack cocaine and heroin.

So... next time you wanna take some information that’s 2 years old and try to use it to destroy my friendships, you better keep hold of the web link babes.

You did the old ‘she’s slagging you off’ before.

Which changed to ‘she’s slagging you off online’

And when questioned more changed to ‘I saw a blog post with a similar user name to what you use’

CAUGHT OUT!!

Take a long hard look in the mirror. You’re in your 40’s and what do you have? Apart from being able to claim having fucked well over 1,000 men/boys (yeah I know your verging on being a right peadophile the age of the YOUNG BOYS you’ve had in your bedroom.

Attention seeking whore. Full stop.

You might think you’re better, coz you only smoke crack and heroin, but you’re not. You are a worse junkie thank me.

Now fuck off, don’t be making up bullshit when until today I’ve had NOTHING but positive karma and vibes for you.

❤️ In Response

The conversation

Why am I a bitter, twisted person?

This blog is about my crazy drug abuse adventures. Not about finding a tenner in the high street, stroking a kitten, seeing a rainbow, winning a fiver on a scratchy... I could go on. 

Generally I will post when something eventful has happened. I have posted about work, about my nieces, about my cat, about how I’m grateful for my best mate. 

But YES the majority of my posts are regarding drug abuse, trauma and abuse. What’s the point of blogging a perfectly normal life with no major incidents.

There will be people out there, with drug addiction, or ADHD, or anxiety or whatever, that feel God damn alone. They feel like there’s no one who is going through the same. And, then they realise I’m going through the same. They no longer feel alone. Exiled. They no longer swallow those pills with vodka. 

The more people talk about what I’m going through, the less people will kill them selves.

Where is all the hate coming from!

I’m going through something which even with support, love and help, is fucking hard to overcome.

You try doing it with no family. Even if it is just a month trip to your siblings. You imagine not seeing your nephew. Even though you’re not close to your mum, you go with out her hugs, or saying she loves you. You go without being able to run to your dad for protection. 

Then.... then..... you realise the horrific about you’re going through is caused by the people your heart aches to badly for. 

The pain, I can’t even begin to explain the pain. The hurt. How utterly worthless you feel. 

I’m surprised I’m still alive.

The only way to concur this, is to fucking toughen up. Otherwise you’ll be crying your whole life. So whilst I’m polite, kind and considerate... it takes a LOT to knock me down. I’m grateful. I’d be dead otherwise.

If you read as much of my blog as you claim to, you’d be aware of the above. As there is a LOT of hurt, pain and sadness in this blog. A lot more than the hate and anger. But the latter is understandable, considering the experiences I’ve been forced to see.

Apparently someone who I used to work with, who still talks to H, saw me in Tooting, 6-8 weeks ago. 

‘I hope she gets the help she desperately needs’

You’re serious, right? I haven’t been to Tooting since September. Before I got my job, yeah, I was a little slender. I was NOT underweight.

I always have my hair done nicely, wear semi designer clothes. I spend £100 on my hair every 6 weeks. It’s rare I don’t wear fake tan. 

I wear jewellery costing nearly £1,500. I carry a £1,200 mobile phone.

I fail to see how I would appear desperate and ‘needing help’

My blog is full of hate about my parents?

I tell you what... let’s spend a day / night together. We’ll go out and you’ll notice the attention I get. You notice people stop and talk to me for no reason. You’ll see the bar staff counting every minute I spend in the toilet. You’ll notice people take my photo. N has. R has. 

I KNOW I was in the Sun, doing cocaine. Many people have told me.

I know only my family would do this.

I’m trying to sort my life out, move away for my sanity, work hard in my job. They try and jeopardise that. Wouldn’t you be angry?

Glad you’re treating N nice, even if it’s just that you need him.

Yeah, from July 2017 - September 2017, I fucking needed him. More than I ever had before. For the first time in 10 years I needed his financial support. Without it, I would have killer myself.

I didn’t solely rely on him. I did cash £2,500 of my share certificates. But thank God he was here for me. I still own my house for starters.

Also, he cooked, cleaned and did the DIY. When sadness had me almost comatose, he cooked for me. When I came home and laid still on my bed, until darkness consumed not only my room, but my soul, he lit a small flame of hope.

But that’s what friends are for. And as for the financial support, it’s been the other way around for 10 years. I have reaped what I have sown. I supported him and he returned the favour.

You're the one sounding negative. Jealous even.

Perhaps describe him more kindly?

WTF? Tell the world what you used to call him, when YOU were using him for shelter and sex!! Hobbit wasn’t it? Ugly wasn’t it? I could go on.

There’s been very few posts which I have written recently where I am angry with N.

My blog isn’t is sequential order. Each post is dated. Read the date.

Pacing up and down at a bus stop in Tooting?

Even at 3am the streets of Tooting are chaotic where the bus stops are. Therefore it would be nearly impossible to pace. Plus crowds give me anxiety, so I avoid them. 

Anyway the offer is there for a day out with me. Hit me up on my blog. 

❤️ I wish....

Sometimes I reminisce and I deeply long for the life I once had.

And yes that was a life with drug abuse. Crack and heroin addiction. Which I had sorted out.

You truly do not miss what you had, until you’ve lost it.

I miss the silence. No TV, no stereo. Nothing to drown out background noises and murmurs which react to my endless stream of chatter.

I miss being able to lie, with my eyes open. Not having to close them... wait 20 mins, before hearing the ‘she asleep’ murmur. 

Not having to concentrate with such intensity, to regulate and deepen your breathing. Not letting you mouth smirk, or brow crease, in reaction to the endless stream of thoughts in your head.

Whilst I enjoy company, and am aware of its contribution to the fact I am still alive, I miss being alone. Just me, and my pets. Bursting into song upon awaking.

Less temptation to use drugs, as I only had my cravings to fight. When a user lives with a user, you tend to use more. Every time they get a craving, you suddenly have one too.

But awaking each day, to missing money / Oyster card / cash card / keys. Or finding bottles of sauce when you have no memory of needing it, nor finding any supporting evidence to confirm it had been required. Or the noises which make me feel I am no longer alone in my house. Or my alarms not going off. Realising you are short a good week of essential medication. Without it, your employment is in jeopardy. But, with all the above considered, having solitary, is unrealistic.

I cannot endure morning upon morning, of waking up and bursting into hysterical tears.

The bus app, which gives me inaccurate times, resulting in my colleagues, describing me of being tardy.

The all consuming anxiety.

I miss, walking through a park, or wooded area, and being alone.

Feeding the ducks. Watching robins and squirrels. Appreciating the Sun set on a summer’s day, dying the sky, from yellow, to orange, to pink, then purple, before its inky black, studded with diamonds.

The rain, when it’s hot and I search the sky for rainbows as the sun still beats down.

Walking under trees in the Autumn, dancing and spinning, as I’m showered with golden leaf confetti.

Dancing and singing in my front room, KNOWING no one is watching.

Walking down a back street, at 5pm, in the pitch black. Encountering no one. 

Being able to go out without my hair or makeup done, and worry about judgment.

Being able to pick my spots, take a shit and admire the size of if, fart like a man, pick my nose, pluck my facial hair, shave my pubes, look at my va-jay-jay and know I have the basic human right of privacy.

Indulge in wild sex. Masterbate. Watch freaky porn. 

I wish I didn’t have constant paranoia.

I wish I didn’t feel so inadequate.

I wish I felt loved.

I wish I could be alone, feel secure, know I have privacy and chill with my cat.

I wish I could be normal person happy, not just fucked up junkie happy.

❤️ 23rd November 2017 - What The Terrible Junkie Did Today

Ok... so here’s my day


1) man on the broken northern line, trying to connect to WiFi... most likely to update you all on my location, and couldn’t connect.


I realised by entering my email address in Wi-fi Extra it connected. I shared this knowledge with him


2) Man came in without an appointment. So I had 20 mins for lunch so I could see him. He was angry at first, but once I started talking to him about the programme and the help I could provide he really cheered up. Got him hooked onto CSCS. He’s a single dad. It’s a pleasure helping people like him. He’s also a tattoo artist. Maybe I’ll be treated to a free tattoo when I get him employment!! My candidate last week made me a bracelet for helping him get his driving license.


3) My colleague is off with a bereavement. So I also registered her customer.


4) My candidate J**, lovely boy but he’s a pain in the bum. Couldn’t make it to the office so we could refund his travel. So I met him at the tube station and reimbursed him out of my own money. Of course I’ll get this back tomorrow, but what I did, was above and beyond the remit of my role.


So maybe instead of making MY life a misery, because of the LIES you’ve been told, you read my blog and see that you shouldn’t judge a book, based on some retarded critic’s review, when the critic never read the book in the first place and the review you read was complete fabrication.


Hopefully seeing my R*** tomorrow too!! 


Yay!!


#iwillbefamous #thetruth #Itsnotaboutthedrugs @Gemma_Stalked


Sunday 31 December 2017

❤️ 05th May 2015 - Journal




Ok, they want me to kill myself don't they? I cannot see any other way out of this. This has gone well beyond 'Tough Love'. They continue to lie to me, but EVERYONE knows the truth. Well, not the full extent. You'd be shocked if you knew the full list of evil things they've done to me under the guise of 'psychosis'

I used to love them so much. I'll never love them again now. I'll never be grateful of what they've done. I'll never say thanks mum and dad for the complete destruction of my life.

Shame they didn't do psychosis in my session with my drugs worker (they have intruded on my privacy before with my key workers). Coz when I told Jo I gave them my drugs and works, yet I'm still tormented like an animal, her eyes pricked with tears. She knows what a feat that was for me to do. Then to still be tormented. They have no idea. They have no idea about ADHD. Nothing. J* begged for her to make an appointment to see them so she could try to make them see what a huge effort on my behalf and perhaps I could do with a break. I said no. Why bother. They didn't want to see Dr P**. Fuck it.

You don't know the full extent of what they've done to me. I won't even be able to ever tell everything. Because it's so fucking sick. No one would believe me. I don't even believe myself at times. This is my mum and dad. Why won't they help me?

I was LOCKED AWAY for being honest about what they're doing to me. Yes, they're so evil no one believes this could possibly be real. It must be psychosis. But nothing listed below is beyond the realm of human capability. This is what my loving parents have done to me when I needed their help. When I cried and cried. When I pleaded. When I begged. When I gave them the fucking damn drugs and my works. Unlike real psychosis mine doesn't go away when I stop drugs.

- get loads of cars like dad's Ford Focus. Similar number plates, hub caps (dad changes his and drives with a fake EK number plate), in grey, silver and black. Have loads down Oakway on day I'm petrified of being illegally sectioned again. Have loads wherever I go. Pershore Grove. Rosendale.

- install CCTV in my house and their house. Then lie to Doctor and say I am imagining this. Forget that I used to be able to ask CCTV psychosis for things that would appear the next day. Also know information I haven't disclosed to you only psychosis. CCTV circuits where found in all of my light bulbs 






- give her a bugged iPhone and prevent her from upgrading. Watch her every phone movement. Access camera and microphone at your leisure

- scream 'YOU'RE ON DRUGS' or just get angry when confronted

- don't what ever you do, act like parents. Still torment her when drug free, sober etc.

- bug her iPad which she realises strange men are following at night. So  petrified she leaves in a bush.

- hang around her bedroom window whilst unlawfully detained in Springfield

- have her Key Worker appear in another borough and enter the house you're (I mean the psychosis) staying at

- get the community involved by mass stalking me.  Have thousands of strangers photo me and text my location. I don't deserve the basic human right of privacy 



- get houses involved to have pretend numbers on their door. THERE IS NO NUMBER 13 OAKWAY IDIOTS. BAD LUCK

- contaminate her gear with any old shit. Don't research what the fuck you're putting into something she will inject herself with. When she has black rotting flesh realise you made a bad choice and swap gear for less poisonous one

(One of two rotting parts of flesh)

- when you realise Springfield isn't really a suitable place for her rather than get her out, hire people to pretend they too took an overdose and that's why they're there. Get one to try to get her re-sectioned, although you know this is highly illegal

(Glen the spy's note book about getting me Sectioned)

- tell community she's a dirty junkie on crack and smack so this intrusive behaviour is for her own good (neglect to say it's legal Ritalin she's taking for her ADHD). This will ensure they hound her like a rabies ridden dog. Even get them to shout 'CRACK HEAD' in public

- move her floor boards up and down so she's petrified of staying in her own home. Also knock door, move internal door handles. Have people enter her house. When she spends £150 (last money) on changing locks, have her come home to an open house with spare keys on the side

- when caught out (in the park) pretend your Clark Kent, where crap NHS glasses, your son's top, and squint your eyes when she sees your face

- constantly lie and say you're 'staying away'. Go next door and torment her with your son. Nice family bonding where you make the black sheep think she's mad

- be seen in public and in your car then lie and say you were at work

- be heard in neighbours houses' in adjacent rooms to where she's (petrified) staying. Then torment her.

- still lie when neighbour and counsellor have slipped up and told her the truth

- have large vehicles play a sound so it sounds like a helicopter is above her (talk about prisoner of war treatment)

- have loads of bright white lights where ever she goes. Even central London where she's still hounded like a dog (Terrorist, rapist, murderer, treason.... This cannot be because little no one Gemma take a drugs. Coz all of this just makes me take a hell of a lot more)

- large helicopter presence around me

- shop staff ignore me or lie saying machines not working.

- have strangers read my text messages when sitting 4 rows behind me

- get my counsellor to lie (she did tell truth which is why I went SPRINGFIELD)

- get my friend to lie and all of a sudden I have psychosis at his house. This was my last 'safe' place where I could sleep

- take all her shoes and make one too small for her to wear