You don't need shoes to run

When I was out "there" I did have friends and family that would come search me out. One of my high school friends would come out every so often. I would hear from other working girls "there is some super drunk girl driving around in a cab asking for you". Ha...I thought for sure it was some one's wife that had found out about her husband's sexual escapades.

But yeah, people came out and looked for me. Rescue attempts maybe. One girl I knew from the coffee shop I worked at came and found me one day...I would ask them for money or whatever (I know it is lame but I did it) and she just offered me some f*cking carrots. Carrots?? Are you kidding me? Sure it was nice that people cared but unless they had some money to throw in..I had no time for them. Everyone had the same rules. I remember my Dad coming down one day and he wanted to take me home and I said I wasn't going unless he gave me some money. So he did, but he didn't make that mistake more than a few times. I was using him and he knew it.

The reason I mention this is because one time when he came out to find out if I was still alive we were walking down Hastings together and passing various random dope addicts. He would actually walk into the jungle w/ me and go w/ me to whatever dope dealer I was looking for and everything. And this one time we were approached by about 4 different people asking us if we needed a room. Awesome...I was like "NO, that is my Dad!" but they wouldn't believe me. My Dad was like "What did they say?" and I explained that the "person" was asking us if we needed a room in order to do a date. Gross, but you can't blame them for asking...I did dates w/ men my Dad's age all the time.

So yes, he would come find me...pick me up...buy me drugs and take me back to his house..and we would ration out my dope but it never lasted...I was on methadone and then he would buy me a bunch of dope that was supposed to last me a week. BUT...that was a bad situation. Trying to get a dope addict to go from doing a bunch of dope daily to just doing just a bit of dope daily (after my Dad got home from work I would get it) was awful. It is like quitting smoking. You will never quit smoking if you still smoke one cigarette a day...you need to go cold turkey or you just end up prolonging your agony. I also had no intention of quitting..I was only there because he wanted me there. I have said a million times that I would way rather to just be left alone to make money and get high than even attempt getting straightened out.

What was even more difficult was that my Step mum (I love you Step mummy, but this really was an issue for me) decided that I was being lazy or something and rather than be a vegetable until my Dad got home from work...she decided that I needed to keep busy w/ a friggen chore list. Awful awful awful. Not that I hate chores but it was all I could do to even stay in the house everyday. The first thing an addict thinks about when they get up is dope. I would get up....go sit in front of the TV, twitching my leg...begging the clock to go faster. After about an hour and a half I could maybe chill out enough to have a shower or something. It wasn't that I wanted to do nothing but I was a zombie..all I could think about was drugs. That is IT. So, I get the chore list.

On my list was washing the floor...emptying dishwasher...washing the patio doors!! I was so mad. Needless to say the chore list lasted about 48 hrs. When I was "cleaning the patio doors" I actually just went outside and left my cleaning supplies on the grass and jumped the fence in my slippers. Oh, I forgot to mention that my parents had taken away my shoes since I was prone to running. But I didn't need shoes...once my mind was made up, it was made up.

They took my shoes...they also had the house alarm on constantly...so even if I opened the door I had about a 30 second head start. They only started the alarm thing though when I took out the garbage and never came back and after I went to use the washroom during the hockey game (who cares, as if I want to watch hockey) and instead walked right out the door. I only ever set the alarm off once though. I think. It was super late at night..I had arranged for some one to go all the way out towards my Parent's house and just left them a note at the top pf the stairs apologizing for being such an ungrateful child (at least I think that is what it said..but it may have said..don't worry but I gotta get high.. dope and prostituting myself is more important than anything you could ever do for me). It is weird how a sane person can become a person w/ no conscience. And now I have a conscience again, and that is fine...because I may have sold my soul more than once...but I do have values..and I am entitled to them.

One time I was even so "angsting" out that my Step mum (who is about 5 feet tall) parked a chair in front of the door so I couldn't get out. We still laugh about this because she is a tiny woman and she did not let me get out that day. She actually wore me down, we had a physical confrontation and everything. But after about an hour I was tired and the craving had passed.

Note: Cravings seemed to come in waves for me. When it is full on it feels like the only you can do is get high, find a way to get high or work on getting money to get high. BUT...the craving does pass even though at the time it feels never ending. It won't last forever..but you will survive.

The whole parental rescue didn't last long, in case you were wondering. You can only do so much to help people..don't exhaust yourself trying to do so. It is a waste. If anyone tried to do an intervention on me I would have walked away. Any bottom line they could have offered me was already lost years before.

I can't even imagine how this all felt for my parents. Knowing that I was doing what I was doing..had no shame...didn't care about anything. Weird. People can talk about legalization of prostitution and all that but it will never happen. There will always be the diseased ridden, mentally ill, super f*cked up girls that work the back alleys and do dates in cars. Yeah, it isn't safe out there for these women...but it is almost like you sign an imaginary waiver when you start. The risk is just part of the job. We are the "crab fisherman" (ever watch the Discovery channel?) of society's lower rung.

I was talking to my counselor yesterday and she told me that I obviously DO have a work ethic because I preferred to work the street and earn my money "honestly" rather than going boosting or whatever. Haha...awesome...for a drug addicted street prostitute I had a great work ethic. I should put that on my resume.