Archive for Drug Addiction

Day 40: “The Beastie Boys and Throwing Up”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on June 2, 2011 by Veronica Graham

Today I was sick- really sick.  I went to the doctor to figure out what the hell was going on with me- my stomach was in fifteen different types of pain and I couldn’t stop throwing up.  Turns out:  I smoke too many cigarettes, eat fatty foods, drink on an empty stomach, and live off of caffeine.  I guess this combo on top of not eating well balanced meals or exercising caused my stomach to freak out on me today.  I’ve had various instances when my health was in jeopardy.  I only stopped doing cocaine for a year now– well, almost a year now.

I still think about cocaine like a bad relationship.  I stopped heavy cocaine use about two years ago and it’s been about a year since I’ve gone back for a booty call.

Obviously, it’s no secret that I don’t take care of my body as well I should.  You’d figure needing to go to the doctor from coke would have been enough to get me away from it, but it didn’t… About 5 years ago when I went to The Beastie Boys concert with a random car dealer that I just bought my new car from and got a little carried away in the drug use.  The Beastie Boys concert was AWESOME! Coke, Weed, and Alcohol!  After the concert, I was running through the bushes and got yelled at by security for trying to sneak on to the tour bus.  The people I left with left me alone and I went to a friend’s house.  Once I got there, an illness hit me like a tidal wave- I was throwing up everything in my stomach- every hour on the hour- it would happen and this continued until I had to go into work the next morning.  My boss told me I needed to go to the hospital and by then I felt so weak I could hardly drive myself.  I made my way to the ER and I was hooked up to an IV from dehydration.  The nursed asked me why I did so many drugs and all I could say was, “I don’t know…”

Later that day, I went home and kept my hospital visit a secret for a while.

So, now I’m sick again for just leading an unhealthy lifestyle in my everyday life.  Drugs aren’t involved anymore, but I do smoke a lot of cigarettes and drink without eating first- in fact, I tend to replaced meals with a drink because it’s easy and it curbs my appetite.  I guess all these years of drug use could have weakened my body so it’s less resilient now.  I mean, a lot of people out there lead an “on the go” lifestyle, right?  I guess because I did so much damage throughout the years, I need to be more cautious now of how I treat my body in order to allow it to heal.  Hell, I can’t even go outside on a high pollen day without my nose hurting.

So, I’ve started… I’m going to give up smoking too… or really really try to and rest up cause this bitch has a date tomorrow night and I don’t want to be in a bad mood from all this illness crap.

Here’s to 326 Days, Veronica Graham, I can’t wear tight belts either, the doctor says, damn, what am I going to wear???

Day 24: “San Francisco Stripper”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on May 17, 2011 by Veronica Graham

After high school a few of my friends had moved out to San Francisco and my boyfriend and I decided to join them- decided meaning after having sex on The Exorcist stairs in Georgetown, I declared, “WE SHOULD MOVE TO SAN FRAN!”


In the middle of the night, we jumped in my car and took off across country.  When we hit Colorado I decided to call my parents and let them know why I wasn’t home, “I’m moving to San Francisco and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

They were shockingly chill about it or maybe just plain shocked, “OK…” was their response.  I had never felt more free.  So on we went to SAN FRANCISCO!  ME and the LOVE of my Life!  We connected with an old high school friend and I said that I wanted to try dancing– yes, stripping.  My boyfriend said that he did not support this and broke up with me before we had been in our new home for a full day.  I did not see him for the entire 6 months I lived in San Francisco.

Newly single, I went to amateur night and felt great!  I was 19 years old and I loved the attention.  I went next door and got a job as a stripper within a week.  I walked in with baggy pants and a cute top and the manager waved me over to him and I walked into his office.  “Take off your clothes,” he said.

“Ok.”  And I did.

The manager took a polaroid of me and I was hired and my new name was Smokey.

A veteran stripper- blond bombshell- offered me my first taste of hard drugs:  Crystal Meth.  She taught me how to use it and I was instantly hooked.  I felt amped up, alive, and like a pocket of euphoria was released from my brain.  I kept using and soon I had my close knit stripper friends: Jaguar (the asian), Alize (named after her favorite drink), and Brazil (bisexual hottie)… not sure if I can even remember their real names.  But we made money, paid our bills, and paid for our new expensive hobby: Meth.

We were living the life: sex, drugs, and dancing!  The meth kept me happy for a while, but soon there wasn’t enough Meth or LSD in the world to distract me from how fucked up I was.  I was unhappy.

My stripper heels and crystal meth couldn’t keep satisfied anymore…  I was sitting in the club talking with fellow stripper, Alize.  “I can’t do this anymore.”  I started dreaming of sitting in a college classroom, going to church, and getting my life together… I couldn’t believe I was 19 and an addict with no education.

Alize said to me, “Go home.”

I called my dad and he booked me flight back to DC.  It wasn’t until I was back home when I started doing cocaine- the very drug that almost killed me… all because I couldn’t find any meth once I moved back home.

When I was with Iago, we went to San Francisco for vacation.  I went into the club I used to work and saw Alize.  “Hey!” I said.

“Who are you?”


She remembered me, we caught up, laughed and promised to grab coffee together before my vacation was over.  We never did.

On a day like this it’s impossible for me not to think about San Francisco.  The allergies in DC are horrible right now and my nose still hurts from years of cocaine use.  For some reason, I always look back on my time in San Francisco with fond memories, but when I really remember the details:  I remember being degraded for money, started using hard drugs, and having sex with the shadiest men– men I wouldn’t even look at today, more or less talk to- and especially have sex with… and that’s pretty bad coming from me.

Here’s to 342 Days, Veronica Graham, I’m so sorry I blew you off, Alize-

Day 6: “Daddy Issues”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on April 29, 2011 by Veronica Graham

Today I yelled at my father.  Yelled is an understatment, my head lifted off my shoulders and it spun around puking green demon vomit all over my father.  My father is an ex-Naval officer, still working in his 60s, trying to make a living and putting my younger brother through college.  He’s been gracious enough to pick me up when I’ve fallen over the last 20-something years of my life and for some reason he is always the brunt of my banshee screaming.

I was the kid that parents wished they could put back.  It’s like that toy you get from the sand treasure box and quickly return it to get something new.  My brother is the super awesome secret prize that only one person can get out of that sandbox.  You know what kid I am- they made a movie about it called Problem Child.  Great movie, but there’s a reason why they didn’t make the sequal Problem Teen or Problem Young Adult.  I was the Problem Child, Problem Teen, and Problem Young Adult… I was probably the Problem Baby and from what I’ve heard, I was the Problem Fetus.

You’d figure someone in my position would appreciate my father taking me in when I was 14 and rescuing me from San Francisco when I was 18 and rescuing me from my ex-convict boyfriend when I was… well, let’s just say way too old to be playing around with boys THAT bad.  So why does my dad get the brunt of all my pissed off psycho glory?  I mean, he gets the Muhammad Ali version of the Veronica wrath, and yet he’s the one that means the most to me in my life.

The fact is that I still view my dad the same way I did when I was 5 years old.  Invincible.  He’s capable of everything and deserves some hot young dame that will make him feel like he’s 22 again- who also knows how to cook, clean, and never cries.  (Sorry, interested ladies- he’s married!)  I expect things from him that only a superhero could handle and I spit out venom bullets because he’s bullet proof.

The reality of this situation is:  I’m too old for this shit.  My dad will always mean the world to me and I am the rare specimen of slut out there that isn’t whoring myself around because my father neglected or abandoned me.  Unfortunately, there’s just been no one else that could compare to him:  he’s bared the brunt of my wrath with excellent bulletproof strength, loved me unconditionally, and even gets my head out of my ass.  No guy I’ve dated has been able to bare this wrath of mine, and quite frankly, shouldn’t.

I have to learn to say to myself, “Come on, Veronica!  Shut your damn mouth, take a xanax, count to ten, and down a Modelo like the rest of the working adults out there!”  Then pop in the dvd of The Princess and the Frog, because Raymond never fails to put me in a good mood.

Here’s to 360 Days- Veronica Graham, Don’t make me light my butt!