Quite a half week! 6/18/16

Yesterday, I dealt with some "potential future clients". Two heroin addicted women who needed to move. Immediately.

The house they were staying at was one of those random houses that the homeless and addicted coalesce at.  Such houses will be empty, abandoned, for sale, or in this case, a person is kind of renting, but about to be kicked out, so lets a variety of anyone and everyone stay there to milk as much money and such out of the place as they can before leaving.
 

In this case, some woman (a veteran) was about to be kicked out, and so was letting a variety of heroin and meth addicts stay there. They'd provide her with a bit of money, and drugs. Meth, for her, that was her thing, and not the bad enough normal meth, but the utterly horrific "shake and bake" meth. Then, as is inevitable, there was a bust. The putative renter was took to jail on an outstanding warrant, everyone else knew they'd have to leave.

So the two heroin addicts that I had been working with needed to leave. They had no place to go, but they had stuff to move, and one of them had a daughter. The daughter was willing to hold her mom's stuff for awhile, but not up for putting up mom. That's no reflection on the daughter, it's hard to put addicts up.

I helped the two load up their stuff and moved it to the daughter's house. It was sad. I've seen such drug houses as they were moving from before. They all look vaguely the same. The residue of "shake and bake" meth, made out of kerosene, Sudafed and a variety of other crazy stuff, most all poison. Needles. Burnt spoons. The needles and spoons are for heroin.

And yet in each of these houses I've been to, you see small little human tracks. From when they were human, or when they imagine they'll be human again, or for (mostly) the bit of humanity that still struggles within each addict to still keep being proper, to still try to "pass" as "normal" no matter how absurd that looks to the non-addicted.

What are those tracks? Personal touches. Photos of family. A child's homework put on the fridge with a magnet. Silly knick knacks, be it an Elvis plate or some reward or certificate from when life was better. From when life was "human".

In this case it was some family pics and some military commendations. And don't even get me started on how much business for me our military generates. We're all "for our troops" - until they're home from one of our "wars of the week", then there's jack squat of benefits and help available for them. Correction - there is such help, but it all assumes they haven't resorted to drugs/alcohol while waiting for a disgustingly long period of time for real help.

But such personal touches are indicative of a person who has fallen very far, but still retains some hope of groping back up to the light. Their addiction has them in a murky swamp of despair, desolation and depravity, but far up above them, they see the vague glow of the sun shining on that distant surface of the swamp water. They want to go up to it. A part of them yet yearns for the light.

But they can't. Not yet, or they'd not be there in those depths. They're not quite "sick and tired of being sick and tired", so instead of asking me to take them to a detox or rehab, they want to secure their stuff, while they find another place to flop at for awhile. I know this for a fact, as I always offer to keep their stuff myself, and then take them to a detox, and then give them a place afterward. My own place. And since they're not ready, they decline.

Why do I aid them when they're not quitting? Well, trust building, as I mentioned in previous article. They have to know you're there for them. And because they are human, our brothers and sisters in Christ, who do need help, even if they are the victims of their own poor choices. Their own abused free agency.

The stuff they wanted moved and preserved safe was valueless. To you or I, that is. But very valuable to them, as it's all they have. Most of it goes in garbage bags or random boxes, or even a sheet upon which much can be put and then picked up by tying the corners together. I've moved plenty, and know all the tricks. They were amazed at how fast I was able to move them. But some reading this aren't amazed!

I took the two women to the house of one of their daughter's. I unloaded the stuff. The daughter was not surprised to see them, but asked who I was, with some suspicion. They let her know I'm that "sober living guy" they had apparently already told her about. I learned, with no surprise, that I had been discussed before. I've had that happen before, you see. Some what routinely. The daughter was relieved that I was still helping, in spite of her knowledge that it might be hopeless.

Addicts are adept at knowing who is trying to aid them or not, and if they come across someone who's going the extra mile, they marvel at it, and speak of it to their "set". Their "set" being such "normal" friends and family who have not quite abandoned them. I suppose I should be flattered, and in a way I am. At least in the sense that I get that it might aid them in calling me later if they decide to truly reform.

You see, there's other "aid workers" out there that are collecting notches on their belt, and trying to make the addict dance through hoops for the aid worker's purposes. Like Shelter Kings* do.  Or some bitter bureaucrats.  Or mean ministerial staff. There's a real quid pro quo and tit for tat that these alleged "aid workers" try to exact. It can be as minimal as "say you believe in our cause, politics, religion" to...well, far worse. Some times disgustingly worse, or so I've heard, and in some cases, so I believe. So the addict is always surprised and pleased when no "payment" is required. In any form. Surprised - and still often, a bit suspicious. Hence why trust building is so important, and such a long process.

Why women? Well, it's guys and gals I help, just in this case it happened to be two women. I used to focus exclusively on guys, but since the second house is so close to up and running I work with aiding both now, to get the word out that there may be aid for them from me. Each of them talked to gets my card. One day it may pay off.

The second house? Well, as most of you know, the roof is on the second house, so all that needs finished is the basement. I filed my claim with the State of Illinois yesterday, so in the next month or so I should have a check for $2,515 to pay off roof repair loans and get the plumbing fixed in the basement.

Then I'll be able to aid women, for the first time, as well as the men I've been helping all along. At Oxford House sober living homes, they have some houses that serve men and women, mixed. Me, I think that such is a mistake. And sinful. So I have one house for men already. Only men. And the second house will be for women only. That way I can help both, without leading either to temptation. And the strife that always occurs when you mix "romance" with "maintaining sobriety".

Then today (Saturday as I write this), while doing a variety of lawn work for some friends, I had opportunity to deal with the third woman. The woman who had been the putative renter of that very house that the two had moved from.

She was texting me to let me know that those two had robbed her. Now I happened to know that this was not true, mainly for having had been there. See, the renter - the lapsed and non-paying renter - had been hosting more than half a dozen meth addicts, none of whom were the two I helped. They no doubt did rob her, while she was waiting on her bail hearing to get out of jail.

She is under the impression, sad to say, that she has no problem with drugs. That she has my card should have told her otherwise, as I have to pay for those cards, and only give them to those who I know for sure need them! I counseled her as best I could. With a mind to getting her to realize she needed to make changes in her life.

Okay.

And there was more for me to deal with this past half week. Unrelated, I have a new guy at our sober living home. Just arrived, when a bed came open for having had to have a guest leave. The new guy has an arraignment this upcoming Tuesday, for a felony charge. Which as he heard from the others who stay there, I could probably get him out of any prison time. And true enough, ordinarily I could.

But he has four previous felonies, and that's a bit beyond my powers. The District Attorney is offering 3 and 1/2 years of prison if he takes a plea. He was hoping for probation. I had to regretfully advise him that while I might be able to help aid him in shaving that down to 2 years (one year with good behavior), getting him probation was beyond my abilities.

And even the "shave" would take some extraordinary efforts. True, I can speak well to DAs (from sad experience and much practice) and usually informally negotiate some consideration, but four felonies make a DA salivate with the thought of a sure-fire belt notch.

I outlined all he would have to do. Strictly adhere to all rules, never commit another offense, go to AA meetings, get a job, some how scrape up $1,500 for a real attorney (public defenders being as bad as the movies tell you), and have me, his girlfriend, and his mom by his side every step of the way. And too much more advice to go into.

Because District Attorneys eat lone and friendless defendants for lunch.

So there's that also making this past half week hectic.

So. That was my last half week. Not so different than most weeks. All in all.

*Shelter Kings are homeless and/or addicted people who joined the program or shelter six weeks or six months before you, and thus have been gave a bit of power, like being a trustee.  They typically abuse this "power" instantly.