“Honestly Joey, I couldn’t care less. If anything that’s a good sign, it means the drugs are leaving your system.”
“I suppose,” I said.
“What if I were to give you some valium?” he asked. “Just to tide you over the next few days and help you ride out the comedown?”
I turned the idea over in my head for a moment.
“That would be perfect,” I said. ”But it wouldn’t be fair on you. Keep them for yourself. Please.”
“Honestly Joey, I have plenty. I used to have a doctors prescription but they’ll only dole out so much, so now I order them in bulk off the internet. They’re great for helping you sleep and coping with anxiety.”
“OK,” I said. “Thanks Jord.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” he said. “Just gimme a sec and I’ll go fetch you some.”
He left the spare bedroom and returned a few minutes later with a strip of blister-pack pills. 10 altogether. He handed them to me.
“These are 10mg each,” he said. “The strongest you can get. You might wanna split them in half at first and see how you get on. Go easy on them.”
“I will,” I replied. “Do you want some money for these?”
“I don’t want anything other than for you to get yourself in a better place than you are in now. Take a half and get some rest. First thing tomorrow we’ll look into booking you a ticket back. How’s Thursday sound?”
Two days away.
“Thursday’s fine.”
“Right, I’m heading back to bed then. Are you gonna be alright on your own here?”
I nodded in acknowledgment.
“If there’s anything else I can do for you, don’t hesitate to knock on my door.”
“I won’t.”
After Jordan had left, I broke open the seal to release one of the small blue tablets and split it in half. Within minutes of taking it I felt a great deal calmer, and within half an hour I’d drifted off into a deep, hypnotic state of sleep.
Once we’d booked my ticket, I slept for most of the remaining days at Jordan’s house, occasionally getting up only to go to the bathroom. He’d encourage me to drink bottled water and eat high calorie protein bars, and would sometimes bring me up breakfast in bed (which was so unbelievably sweet of him!), but we didn’t see a great deal of each other otherwise.
I felt, and still do some extent, guilty that he’d invited me over and I wasn’t able to offer him much in the way of companionship – but I recognise he did it out of the kindness of his heart. He knew I needed the rest and recuperation more than anything else at that point, so as long as I was comfortable he was happy to leave me be and get on with what he needed to.
By Wednesday my anxiety and feelings of hopelessness, while still present, had lifted considerably, and I felt able to start making small plans towards the future. When I got back home I wanted to reconnect with some of my old friends, spend more time with my family, and then put some serious thought into what I was going to do long term, career wise. The fact I even had the capacity to be considering these things and not breaking out into a panic attack was a massive milestone really. A week prior I’d come to accept that I was probably going to die of an overdose any day soon, or end up serving time in prison. I genuinely believed that to be my fate.
A lot of addicts don’t get a second chance. To quote from the ‘Narcotics Anonymous’ handbook – ‘Very simply, an addict is a man or woman whose life is controlled by drugs. We are people in the grip of a continuing and progressive illness whose ends are always the same: jails, institutions, and death’.
I don’t agree with all that the 12-step program stands for, and I admit that I’ve never really given it the fullest of my commitment, Although I have attended my fair share of meetings when I felt I needed the support of others, if only to hear them share their stories – and that one line in particular always resonated and struck a chord with me.
I wonder if it seems contradictory of me to make mention of that, after having just admitted to Jordan giving me valium, knowing my struggles (medication or not, it is still a drug at the end of the day); but those little blue pills were truly a lifesaver in quelling my paranoia and putting my fears at ease, as well as dealing with my insomnia, and facing up to the final challenge ahead of me – the coach trip home.
I said my thankyou’s and goodbye’s to Jordan Thursday morning and made the hour long trip via the London Underground to Victoria, where I was to catch my coach home to Mommouthshire. I popped another half a valium tablet beforehand to ward off the stress of travelling, but the coach journey itself was painless and totally smooth sailing. I can’t tell you how genuinely happy I was to see my mum waiting for me at the other side when it was my turn to get off. She had little idea of the immense struggles I’d been through since seeing her last, but that was how I wanted it to stay.
“Long time no see,” I said, as she reached out to hug me.
“We thought at one point you weren’t ever gonna come home!”
I couldn’t quite tell if she was joking or not. Mum was often hard to read like that. But there many times that I myself doubted if I’d ever make it back in one piece. Still, I brushed the comment off. I had to be strong, or at least appear to be.
“Don’t be silly,” I said.
“Did you have a good time?” she asked.
“Ups and downs,” I replied.
Perhaps the greatest understatement of the century…
“But yeah, I’m alright.”
It was such a relief for me to be back home, and back in the comfort of my own bed. But I knew that the novelty would soon wear off. So I kicked back and chilled for the first couple of days in a bit of a valium daze, before sitting down in front of my computer late one evening and, for the first time, seriously considering my options. I found myself up against a bit of a brick wall. I had no desire to return to London anytime soon, and deal with the emotional baggage that came along with that, and yet I still needed to be bringing in some source of income.
Drug dealing was not something that I ever wished to get involved in again, and escorting wasn’t really an option as I still hadn’t learned to drive, not to mention the area we lived in was so rural I’d be hard-pressed to find a single gay client.
I wondered, albeit briefly, if maybe if it was time I stopped being such a rebel to society and tried to get myself a simpler job in retail, or maybe hospitality.
Then I thought back to my ‘PalTalk’ days as a pre-teen, and the pop up ads I’d seen while browsing porn online. Camming was a growing industry, and surely something I could try my hand at. From a few brief Google searches, I already felt armed with a wealth of potentially golden information – I just had to figure out how to navigate my way through it, and where best to begin…
Being a cam boy, or a cam girl is not an easy job, but if you find your niche it’s definitely one of the most rewarding, and something you can certainly make a great deal of money out of. In many ways it isn’t all that different to Sales work, or a commission based job – only the ‘product’ your selling is yourself. On days where you earn big it’s the biggest boost of confidence. You feel appreciated, valued, sexy and loved! Sometimes signing off after a big money spinner session is like stepping off an arena stage after a great performance – you feel like a superstar and you’re riding on a high!
On slow days where you’re earning little or nothing at all, it can be a really tough knock to your confidence. You start to question your looks, your personality and what it is that you’re doing wrong.