OH, MY GOD! I started writing this ages ago. But so much happened since, including a breakdown last week. Now, I feel like a no one, who shouldn’t exist and has no place in this world. I spoke to my mum on the phone this afternoon and it made me feel better. Of course, she has no idea what is going with me. She lives quite far by the Amazon rain forest. So, I can just tell her that I am tired and that I have been working too much, which is true. But things at home are not ok, my mum is sick and I am the only person who can help her. I am hoping that I’ll be able to within the next few months if stay sober and manage not to have breakdowns.
But back to what I wrote few weeks ago…
28th April 2018, I was having quite a productive day. After the gym, I prepared a to-do list with 13 tasks. I have this habit of preparing to-do lists on weekends, it’s like the weekend is the only chance to get rid of my work-backlog and to sort out some unfinished business in my life. I usually start with a very modest list and suddenly the list is huge. Then because of procrastination, I never go past the third task, and on Monday I am stressed, anxious and annoyed with myself because I was not productive during the weekend and my work-backlog is still there.
But that weekend, Saturday 28th April 2018, was kind of “special”. It was over 8 weeks since I last took drugs and had a sex binge. A friend who is a psychiatrist came to visit me late afternoon, he wanted to see my new flat. It was nice seeing him, but he didn’t look very good. He explained that in the previous evening he was smoking crystal meth with his best friend, who is also a psychiatrist, until 3am. He also had had a few drinks before coming to visit me and was very nervous because he had a date with a black guy in the evening (a huge guy, if you know what I mean). I tried to make him feel better by preparing some shit tomato and mozzarella salad, which is my latest culinary speciality. He said my salad was delicious.
I felt quite cheery after my friend left, after all I had most of the bottle of wine that he brought. I carried on with the tasks from the weekend’s to-do list and was planning to maybe go to the gym when I sobered up a bit. Surprisingly, I had managed to complete 6 tasks, so another 7 to go, and it was only Saturday evening. The weekend was going well so far.
As usual, my anxiety gets hold of me, and in between tasks I kept checking dating/sex apps to look for sex. I was also in the expectation that I would have a client. For your information, recently I set up accounts in some “escorting” (prostitutes) websites. I have done this before, around 10 years ago. At the time, I wasn’t as excited about it as I am now. Now, there is something about it that I find fascinating, and I decided to do it again partly because of this fascination and partly because I have 4 mouths to feed back in Brazil. If you were to ask me what I do in London, the answer would be: I work in financial services during the day (suit, tie and all that), I go to the gym quite a lot, sometimes twice a day, I love reading books, I am addicted to buying books, and as of last weekend I am also a whore in the evenings and weekends. If you find that fascinating and then ask for more details, I’d say: I take antidepressants, I see a psychologist once a week which is part of a psychiatric treatment, and I am in a constant fight with anxiety and trying to stop myself from becoming addicted to drugs again, which once almost destroyed me.
Going back to the task list, Saturday evening 28th April 2018, it was around midnight and I was sat on the dining table with my laptop trying to get some work done. I didn’t make it to the gym in the end. My phone rings and it’s a potential client who saw my ad. He wants me to spend 6 hours with him, and to take drugs. He had crystal meth and GHB on him, and I suggest that I could buy some coke for myself as I am not a big fun of crystal meth. In total, 6hrs, taxi to New Cross Gate where he lives, plus a contribution from him for the coke that I was buying for myself, £600. What about the fact that drugs triple my anxiety? And the fact that even with that much anxiety I can’t stop taking more drugs and I can’t function properly? Well, fuck it, it’s £600. Remember the 4 mouths to feed back in Brazil plus myself that needs to be fed too.
I arrive at the client’s house. He is a slim, tall average looking guy in his forties. He wants me to wear gym gear and pose for him. We stay in his living room, he smokes crystal meth and I get on with my coke, we both take GHB. As usual, I start with a dose of 1.5ml. Quickly he becomes all manic (and me too, although I am mostly pretending), and keeps mentioning how fascinated he is with my body. We play quite a lot and he mentions that I am a sex animal, and there is more fascination from him about my body. I feel so embarrassed when this happens, I don’t know what to say. “You are so hot, oh my God your body…you are amazing, so sexy…wow…”. Am I supposed to say “thanks!” and say something nice back?
It doesn’t take long for the buzz from the drugs to become anxiety and the anxiety to become paranoia. My heart is racing and I tell him that I need to sit down so I can catch my breath. My heart is racing. Is he enjoying it? Maybe he regrets having me here. I ask if he is ok and he responds that he is excellent. Is he alone in the house? When I arrived, he said he was, but I feel like there is someone else in the house, and I keep hearing noises as if this someone was coming down the stairs. Maybe the neighbours can hear what we are doing and decided to call the policy. I can hear noises from outside, maybe it’s the police arriving? I try to concentrate, I must give this man the pleasure he wants, I need those £600. But maybe my face doesn’t show that I am enjoying it. I need to seem to be enjoying it. Do you like it? He says that he is loving it, and I say it’s so nice, feels so good (smile and wink). He carries on wanking and watching me pose with the gym gear on.
As he gets more manic with his wanking, the noises in my head get louder and louder. They come from just outside the house, from upstairs, from my phone, from everywhere. He says that he has a flatmate who is away on holidays. What if he is lying? What if the flatmate suddenly arrives? What if he has a wife instead and she suddenly arrives? What if she lied to him, saying that she was going on holidays but she was plotting to suddenly return and catch him having a drug fuelled sex session with a male prostitute? What if she’s been so depressed with his suspected cheating and brings a gun with her, with the intention to kill him and the male prostitute? Jesus, stop it! Concentrate! I can hear someone walking on the corridor, did someone just come in? This person will suddenly appear at the door, I hear someone approaching…the client walks towards the fire place and turns it on, it’s real fire, my God! What if something catches fire and it spreads! The fire seems to be too high for a room so small, he gets manic and manic, and my heart can’t stop racing. God, I wish I wasn’t here and can’t wait to be back home. By the fourth hour he asks if I could stay an extra 2hrs, and we agree £800 in total. What a lucky day! I just wish I wasn’t feeling like this.
He takes me to his bedroom upstairs. The lights in the room are full-on and it’s very bright, there is no music, no vibe, just the manic forty years old man worshiping my body and me pretending to enjoy it. He obviously doesn’t know how to create a vibe to complement a sex section. He should be trying to create a relaxing environment so I can relax. However, I am a whore after all, so why would he go through the effort to make me relax. Fuck what I think and a bright room will do. After 2 hours of his manic body on top of me, I am all sweaty, my heart is still racing, I find it difficult to keep kissing him and he won’t stop kissing me, because I am struggling to breath and all I can hear is his wife walking up the stairs and she has either a gun or a bucket of acid to throw on us. I feel like I must look at the bedroom door, which is open, whenever I have the opportunity, several times, but no wife comes. She could arrive now, at any second, and just finish the whole thing. I can almost feel the acid burning on my skin or the sound of the gun shooting. I finally tell him that I can’t do the extra 2 hours. I am sorry, I am exhausted, I can’t anymore, not even more drugs will give me energy. In fact, I just want to get away from this man, I need to be alone, I’ve had enough, this will never happen again (I don’t tell him this).
I take an Uber home with only £600 in my pocket (shit happens). At home, I take a nytol tablet which should help me sleep for a bit. The noises in my head are still very loud. This time they come from outside in the corridor and from inside my wardrobe. I get up and check inside the wardrobe to make sure there is nobody in there. It also feels like there are people outside in the corridor, maybe they saw me coming into the building, looking wasted, and now they are wondering what I am doing in here, probably something dodgy, maybe taking drugs.
I manage to sleep for a couple of hours. I wake up and remember that I still have 1 and a ½ gram of coke and 20ml GHB. I could take some more of this stuff, for a few hours, then get few more hours sleep before dinner in the evening. Why not? I prepare the lines and the shot of GHB on the kitchen counter. 2 lines of coke and 1.5ml of GHB. I sit down, put some porn on and start to look for sex on my phone. As expected, the noises in my head come back, with the buzz from the drugs. This time they come from just outside my front window and just outside the front door in the corridor. I can hear a police siren. Would someone from the building, who saw me arriving earlier, have contacted the police? I must keep the volume of my IPAD down, almost to zero, otherwise the neighbours will be able to hear that I am watching porn.
I take more lines, 0.5ml of GHB, carry on looking for sex on Grindr and FabSwingers, but no luck. My heart is racing, I must breath deep. I take my laptop and look for amateur porn and find a 12 minute threesome from Colombia, press play, open Grindr, no messages, refresh Grindr, no messages and no new guys in the area, open FabSwingers, no messages, refresh Fabswingers, no messages, click on the tab to see who is nearby, no one new, send messages to random people to ask if they want to have sex, repeat the cycle with Grindr and FabSwingers for about 5-10 minutes whilst trying to watch porn from the corners of my eyes, drink water, go for a pee, drink water, sit down, rewind the Colombian porn and watch it for 20 seconds, open Grindr, respond to some messages and send more messages, refresh Grindr, no new messages and no new interesting guys in the area, my heart is beating really fast, open FabSwingers, no messages, refresh Fabswingers, no messages, click on the tab to see who is nearby, no one new apart from some trannies, send messages to random people to ask if they want to have sex, repeat the cycle with Grindr and FabSwingers whilst trying to watch the Colombian porn from the corners of my eyes, my heart…breath, deep, drink water, take lines, 1.5ml of GHB, sit down, rewind the Colombian porn, open Grindr, respond to some messages and send more messages, refresh Grindr, no new messages and no new interesting guys in the area, open FabSwingers, respond to messages, refresh Fabswingers, no messages, click on the tab to see who is nearby, no one new apart from some trannies, send messages to random people whose profile I had seen before but didn’t fancy, but now I feel so desperate for sex I message to ask if they want to have sex, repeat the cycle with Grindr and FabSwingers whilst trying to watch porn from the corners of my eyes, stand up, drink water, take lines, the noises in my head get louder and louder, my heart is beating even faster, I go for a pee, walk towards the window, the squeaking noise from my steps on the wooden floor seem very loud so I walk slow, almost on the tip of my toes, approach the blinds which are shut and with my right hand fingers I carefully pull apart two slats at my eye level, just enough so I can stare at the street outside in the off-chance that a random guy might walk by, realise that someone in the flat is looking for sex and I invite him in, any guy really. But hardly anyone is passing by, I have the impression that my neighbours from the flat next door know what I am doing, they could hear the squeaking noise when I approached the blinds and now find it very strange that I am hiding behind the blinds looking out through the slats, for several minutes. Their flat have an extra extension which goes past my living room and it has a window that looks out into my outdoor space and at an angle where they can see my windows. They could also be hiding behind their blinds looking at my window through their slats and wondering what I was doing there, why I was hiding and staring at the street for so long, and whether they should knock on my door and ask what the fuck I was doing or even call the policy to tell them that there is a pervert living next door. I shut the blind, walk carefully towards the kitchen to avoid the squeaking noise, drink water, take lines, more GHB, sit down, rewind the Colombian porn, open Grindr, respond to some messages and send more messages, refresh Grindr, no new messages but some new guys, message them, refresh Grindr, no new messages, open FabSwingers, respond to messages, breath deep to control my heart beat, refresh Fabswingers, no new messages, click on the tab to see who is nearby, send more messages, open Gmail, no new emails, refresh page, no new emails, open ICloud email, no new ones, refresh page, no new emails, breath, control your heart, repeat the cycle with Grindr, FabSwingers and emails, rewind Colombian porn and turn volume right down, the neighbours could have their ears pressed against the wall trying to listen to what I am doing, check Grindr, refresh Grindr, FabSwingers, refresh Fabswingers, Gmail, ICloud, refresh, rewind porn, walk towards the window and look through the slats, the squeaking, the neighbours, I think I can hear them about to open their windows and then ask what the fuck is wrong with me, I shut the slats, walk to the kitchen, the squeaking, the neightbours, take more lines, GHB, the noises in my head are really loud, I think I can hear policy sirens, maybe the neighbours called them. Go for a pee, drink water, breath deep, take lines, more GHB, sit down, rewind the Colombian porn, heart racing, breath deep, open Grindr, respond to some messages and send more messages, refresh Grindr, no new messages, refresh Grindr, no new messages, open FabSwingers, respond to messages, refresh Fabswingers, no new messages, click on the tab to see who is nearby, send more messages, refresh, open Gmail, no new emails, refresh page, no new emails, open ICloud email, no new ones, refresh page, no new emails, check Grindr, refresh Grindr, FabSwingers, refresh Fabswingers, Gmail, ICloud, refresh, rewind porn, breath deep, walk towards the window and look through the slats. The squeaking, the neighbours, the noise, the police siren, this fucking paranoia! I have the impression that even though the blinds are shut, people out on the streets can see what I am doing, half naked carefully wondering from the kitchen to the sofa to the window back to the kitchen and so on, and my heart is about to explode.
I repeat this fucking cycle, probably hundreds of time, for about 5 hours, each time with more intensity and being more careful because of the squeaking noise, the noises in my head getting louder and louder and my heart about to explode. I finally ask myself what the fuck I am doing. I am here, again, doing it, again! I look around my flat, I have been through so much, achieved so much, I don’t want to crash like I did a couple of years ago. If I crash now the landing will be so much harder and I am less likely to recover like I did before. I decide to stop, very carefully start to clean up, maybe I should take a little bit more. Why not? The noises in my head refuse to stop, so no, no more drugs. I throw away the drugs, eat something, the noises in my head will be there for a little while. I am not looking forward to the recovery during the next 2 days, where my brain will be mega slow at work, I’ll feel even more depressed and promise myself this is not worth it and will never happen again. It all started with the client that wanted me to take drugs. I’ll never see again a client that wants to have a session with drugs, otherwise it will end up like today again.
It’s 6pm, Sunday 29th April. Tomorrow is Monday, no way I am going to work. I need to recover; I must go back to sobriety so I can pursue my dreams. But the weekend wasn’t a total disaster (really? How much has my life expectancy decreased?). After all I had an extra £600. I also saw the £600 and a lot more in my dreams when I slept that night.
Today, 2nd June, it makes me sad reading this. Extremely sad that I allowed this to happen, and horrified when I revive those moments in my mind as I read it. Why are there humans that are so self-destructive? Why can’t I find joy in the real world? I could have just stopped the drugs after seeing the client, and I would have felt so much better after.
I have been reading this novel called “First Person” by Richard Flanagan and I want to quote the following from Kif Kehlmann, who is the main character of the book: “There’s a sweetness in things that can be intolerable to the less well disposed, that can irritate the more ignorant, who dismiss it as lacking some gravity or weight. And among their number I perhaps count myself”. This is how I’ve been feeling my whole life; this is how I feel now. But I still have hope that one day I’ll enjoy the sweet things that life has to offer, if it’s true that they even exist.
Have a good night