And so it begins …
The beginning of any story fiction or non is probably the most arduous task there is when it comes to writing . This tale begins not so long ago in a city not so far away …
There was a time in my life that I was full of fear doubt and insecurities , Depressed , suicidal and hated the world and everyone in it . I was 12 years old and always felt alone . Don't get me wrong I had friends , I just simply felt as thought I didn't belong anywhere . Then came the day when I found my saving grace . DRUGS AND ALCOHOL … I cannot recall my first experience in that great of detail , what I do remember there were 3 of us we headed to the park with stolen beers from our collective homes and we were set on drinking them .
There wasn't a warm fuzzy feeling , Hell , I don't remember if I was that drunk but what is of paramount importance is the fact that I didn't feel as I normally felt and that I loved . I knew , just as anyone does when they find there true calling in life , there wasn't a substance on this earth that I wasn't going to try . I continued to drink several more times that summer and by labor day I had smoked my first joint and had my first hangover , neither of which caused me any consequences .
I should at this point give you some background , I was born and raised in Lowell Ma. With and absent , and when he was present abusive father . A mother who worked in the mills and waited tables on the weekend . I do have an older brother who was already advanced beyond his years in his own addiction , but that is for him to tell . My family dynamic was strange at best , the family tree was riddled with alcoholic and drug addicts . And my mother , god bless her , somehow became the overseer of the clan .
In those early days of my using it wasn't unusual to have up to four of us sleeping in the same room at various stages or our addictions or detox . There were 6 of us living in a 2 bedroom apartment in a rundown tenement on Salem St. and life seemed normal
I once read some where that man was the only creature who can grow accustom to anything , hence what is insane to others becomes quite normal to those in the midst of chaos . Round about thanksgiving 1985 , thanksgiving eve to be exact , as I stare vacantly at my mother donning her Coffee, Tea or ME apron , as she is baking a pie . The phone rings and it is some random doctor from an even more random hospital in Florida . For you see dear ole Dad had taken off down there several years prior and Dad as it turns out had a brain tumor which the docs in Florida did not want to touch . A med flight was in place and Dad was to be flown into Boston ( Mass General ) to have an emergency surgery in the am .
Fucked up is probably the only way to describe the feeling that a 12 year old has trying to console a distraught woman . Dad never cared for any of us , that is unless true love is expressed with a fist , then he was Mike Brady . Alas Mom always had a soft spot for him . The long and short of it Brain tumors are pretty much a death sentence and Dads was no different , so thanksgiving eve 1985 at 12 years old I learned the My dad was going to die .
As I look back now , I cant say for certain if that had any bearing , whatsoever on the choices that I had yet to make . Where I grew up no of my friends dads were around either . We would sit around and tell each other whimsical tales of our collective father riches and beautiful girlfriend , whilst all of our mother worked to jobs . A classic example of group denial . Truth be told , Dad peaked with my mom and as a group we should have been comparing or dads rap sheets . No of us saw a dad much . A generation of kids raised by women only .
God bless mom , She took him in bring the tenement census up to 7 . Now that responsibility thing I mentioned takes an odd turn . Mike ( I shall no longer refer to him as Dad ) , needed constant care . The surgery left him somewhat less than a full functioning adult and he needed constant care . So as the ” responsible one ” I was appointed his care giver . The school I was attending displayed a great amount sympathy to our plight and allowed me to miss an assload of time during my eight grade year . Now my duties were simple , Give chewable meds to a grown man , assist on feeding him and making sure he can make it to the toilet , the nurse came in and gave him a shower twice per week and I was a dutiful assistant . Most importantly I had to keep all meds away from the remainder of the house because in those days that gave him some heavy duty scripts and save for the occasional percocet that found its way down my throat I did a good job.