I finally got around to watching this documentary, which you can order and get for free at Don't Marry The Dragon. It's pretty low budget, and parts of it can be kind of cheesy, but goddamn, there are some poignant parts.
The part that bothered me most was watching this guy shoot up. The shit was so gross and brown and sticky and nasty. What the fuck was my husband doing injecting his arms with that shit? He's such a priss in so many ways...like he won't step on the floor of our bathroom if its wet. But he'll shoot this fantastically dirty blackish brown shit into his veins.
It's scary. I can't imagine how much he must hate himself.
There's also this woman whose husband was arrested for robbing banks. She didn't know he was robbing banks. She doesn't know how she thought they were supporting their habit. She was on and off using, in and out of detox, for a few years afterwards.
This shit is so foreign to me. I really, really thought that I understood addiction because of my own drug use. I realize now, though, that I was never an addict. I never was ready to let go of everything in my life.
I want my husband to come home so I can yell at him.