5 comments on “Java and Vapor: Triggers Among the Coffee Beans

  1. I can’t even begin to imagine what you endured during those years of abuse. The worst part is that whatever I imagine probably pales before the reality of what you endured. Still, I’m amazed at how far you’ve come. Granted, things will trigger a flashback, like the chance encounter you describe above. With the memories come all the hurt and loathing you felt, both for yourself and for those around you. I look forward to the day when your memories only bring a sadness for the people still trapped in that lifestyle of drug abuse, self-debasement, and insensitivity to the effect of their actions on those around them. Perhaps you’ll even reach a point where you feel a motivation to help them become better – provided they’re willing to accept help, of course. But where you are now – this is a good place for you. I count it a blessing that I’m able to see who you are now, and to be part of the continuing journey you take in becoming even more. 🙂

    • Even if you could imagine it, what good would come of it? The emotional distress it would cause in you would serve no purpose, because you cannot go back and erase any of it. You can’t do anything to stop the pain it has already caused, so be content instead in watching the process of me overcoming it. This is where the story worthy of your focus lies: the inspiration you can get by seeing me rise above.

      It isn’t that I don’t already feel the sadness for those trapped in that life, because through his meetings I met some wonderful people I still run into from time to time, including some that he used with. They don’t serve as triggers to me, and I not the slightest bit uncomfortable around them. Those who trigger me have very specific stories attached to them that I will never tell you, because I don’t want them swirling around in your head every time you talk to me. I don’t want that to be what you see when you look at me.

      What I want you to see and what I hope you see is someone who is brave enough to open her eyes in the morning and face whatever comes her way. Someone who is perseverant and strong in all her stubbornness. And someone who is gutsy enough to believe that the man she loves could love her back.

  2. Oh my beautiful friend Amy
    I am so sorry you had to endure all of that. I never really thought of the other end when I was forced to sell drugs. I never even thought about what it does to the people that were my customers. Being that we were so close in areas I can only imagine that you were directly affected by my network. I can only send my apologies. I am so sorry that I am sure I know that assholes suppliers.
    I also know that feeling of that smell. That sick putrid smell of crack being smoked. It makes me literally sick to my stomach.
    You are a brave woman and I get so much strength from you. Thanks

    • You never really thought of it, because you were doing what you were being made to do. I thought of it every day he brought more people through my door. Watching how desperate they get, how crazy some act if they can’t find more, the anger you see when they run of out money, the sadness if hours later they are still around when the cravings subside, the shame, the hurt, the humiliation, and with the female addicts whose addiction has totally possessed them, the disgust and self hate over the things they did to get that high out of desperation….

      This I am glad you did not have to witness. All these things and more. Do you know that there is not one thing to which an addict should never say “This I will never do? I may go this far, but I would never do *that*!” Their addiction is an illness which progresses and grows and gains more and more power over them as time passes. Something they once thought undoable becomes acceptable as long as no one gets hurt.. Until somewhere later down the line, someone does. And then it becomes a fleeting regret that gets forgotten as soon as the split open that bag.

      I have been witness to more suffering up close and personal in the four years and five months I endured Kevin than anyone should ever have to endure. I have seen healthy, happy people be reduced to monsters. I have seen them become criminals, endanger their children by having plates of crack out where a four year old can reach… right next to a loaded weapon. I have seen men sell women so they can get high. I have seen dealers’ wives devastated by her husband subjecting her to the diseases these women carry, I have seen informants get attacked by family of dealers that were arrested, I have seen desperate addicts sell their last possessions in this world, including their vehicle, to get a small chunk of temporary high. Jobs lost, families destroyed, abusers become even worse, money stolen, women beaten for non-compliance. Had a dealer tried to run me over with a car, Kevin had a gun pulled on him, someone jump out in the dark from an alley and attack him right in front of me. Threats, harassment, stalking, manipulation, lying, cheating, stealing, emptiness. I have seen children go hungry, people lose their homes. People have died. Parents have started their children on it. Men started their girlfriends and wives. Families smoking together, sometimes with small children in the house.

      All in the name of that garbage, the high that the hideous tell-tale stench it leaves behind. He will always be associated with destruction and ruin in my heart, because when I look back at all the people he used to run around with, even those who were trying to get clean, he ruined, pulled back in. Everything he touches turns to decay. I wouldn’t call it bravery, because getting through it became my norm. I am sure you know how that happens. I struggled to keep my head above water, struggled and fought to keep breathing, but from my viewpoint I would say it was stubbornness that I was not going to let this beast be the last person on earth I was connected to. That he was not going to ravage me, too.

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