A and I went to the International Overdose Awareness Memorial in downtown Portland. They evidently wrapped up early, though. And, joy of joys, we parked right across the street from the needle exchange (and four junkies who were congregating there)… the same needle exchange I was at 6 months ago to the day, picking up gear for the relapse that culminated in my overdose.
I sort of knew we’d be near there, but not right on top of the fucking place. A used to work down there and was sharing all her positive memories from her time there. That was about 30 minutes ago (we just got home) and for that time, I’ve pretty much been single-mindedly thinking about getting high.
I have no doubt that, had I attempted to go there myself, that I would probably be high myself by now. Wow. That’s quite a wake up call. I know the kratom has been doing a good job of controlling my urges to use, but it did fuck all for me just now. The whole event was pretty fucking scary. I knew that I could still be subject to being triggered like that but really had no idea how quickly or strongly it could still come on.
And, as much as I did irony amusing, relapsing on heroin exactly 6 months after my last relapse would not have been funny… at all.
I just can’t go anywhere near that part of town (alone, anyway) for a long, long time. I’m just… wow. I dodged a fucking bullet tonight.