WHERE ARE THEY NOW?
Street Cred Redux [#57]
Many of the people who subscribe to Fields of Vision signed up when I was writing regular “Street Cred” posts about my friends who live on the streets of Brattleboro, VT by day and wherever they can at night. Even though I’m focusing on fiction now, I’ll occasionally write new non-fiction pieces for “Street Cred” as well as for my original Substack collection “Writing Asides” (what writers do when they aren’t writing.)
The fiction will always go out on Saturday. When I do write nonfiction, I’ll send it out during the week. By subscribing you can receive them by email or via the Substack app.
A couple of months ago, I pretty much stopped writing my Street Cred series for reasons explained in the last one I Need a Break! It was just taking too much bandwidth—mental, emotional, financial, and simply time away from other projects. I started the series, in part, because I thought it was important to stop “othering” people on the street as pan handlers, addicts, homeless, and/or some dismissive phrase, usually peppered with expletives and devoid of compassion.
Yet, recently, I found myself having thoughts like: “These people are always telling me they lost their identification…” or “Do these people have to leave their garbage everywhere?” or simply “These people have to stop bothering me…”
After more than a year of living and writing these essays, my veneer of radical acceptance had begun to crack, if not shatter. I was “othering” them as much as anyone does.
I might still hand a few bucks to someone I ran into, but I was done with urgent texts or calls about needing money for a phone, methadone, gas money, etc. [Any of which could just be for dope anyway.]
By refusing to do that any more, combined with the ±month I was rarely on the street after knee surgery, I’m managing to extricate myself from the business of, what a good friend called, making “micro-grants.”
Well, for the most part.
Months ago, I started writing about 6 people (basically 3 couples) who had the opportunity to make a major life change in the next 24 hours. I tried to help all of them do so and, yet, just as each one, in turn, seemed to be on the verge of escaping the specific gravity of their situation, they would invariably fall back into their long-established patterns.
Much like the rest of us, I should point out.
As usual, all the following are pseudonyms except Trish who’s given me explicit permission to use her name. She’s always told me that she has nothing to hide…that people might as well hear what addiction and homelessness are really like.
In terms of those six people, as far as I know:
Isaiah spent a few months in jail for a combination of misdemeanors, petty theft, and missing court dates. Probably some drug issues in there, too. I understand he’s out but hasn’t shown up back up in town. People assume he struck a deal that is frowned upon in some circles, i.e., providing information.
PT was also in jail for a few months where, word was, he got clean, found religion, and couldn’t wait to be released and reunite with his girlfriend. I saw him when he first got out and he looked great. Unfortunately, his girlfriend was with someone else which got him so angry, she had to get a restraining order. I haven’t seen him since then.
I already wrote about getting in touch with Jake’s brother who made it perfectly clear that Jake was the kind of person whom you know is lying when they open their mouth. Still, I was saddened to hear he’s gone full-on back to dope after many months on methadone.
I’m not quite positive if it’s the same thing with Vicky. I finally stopped responding to her increasingly desperate texts about being in withdrawal from methadone (which I hear can be as bad as full-on heroin/fentanyl withdrawal) and how she’d “have to use” if she couldn’t get it. Plus, there was the medication she needed to deal with some serious infection. I haven’t seen her in a while…
…Except…an hour after I wrote this, I ran into Vicky on the street. She told me she’s 2 weeks without methadone and still hurting badly.1 She also claimed to have sepsis. As I promised (myself) I only gave her the loose cash I had my pocket. We walked around for about fifteen minutes, several of which she spent making fun of how old I am…at least her sense of humor is still intact.
Melissa? Ah Melissa. She’s the woman whose mother told me had been a pathological liar and addict for 10+ years. I only hear from her rarely. Last time it was to get lights for a shed that she said someone was letting her stay in. She told me that she was writing again, which she knows I think is important. And that she was solely on methadone now—no longer “topping off” with dope. But I got interrupted while we were talking, and it was the week after my surgery so I hurriedly told her I couldn’t deal with her issues at the moment. I haven’t heard from her since.
And Trish? I confess. I did give her $20 today. I hope it’s the exception that proves the rule. Oddly, my next-to-last post was called “I Love Trish,” which talked about how everybody loves Trish because she has a huge heart that has continued to shine even after all the dark places she’s dragged it through. When I wrote that post, she’d moved into a shelter near the hospital where she had a really good caseworker who was helping make sure not only that she had her methadone but that she finally started the for cancer that she’d put off too long.
But soon I heard she was back in town and nothing had really changed.
When I’d ask why she was in town, her answers sometimes made some sense (a boyfriend; her NA group; court hearings). Still, I wasn’t giving her any money. After a while, I just ignored her texts. Today, thought, when she texted she needed $12 more to get a dose of methadone, I wrote her to explain why I was ignoring her:
ME: I'm sorry, Trish. I had to stop giving money to anyone who called, texted, or stopped by. I'll still might give a bucks to people I see on the street. But that's all. For a lot of reasons. I was hoping that by now you'd be fully established at your new place and set up at the methadone clinic there, so it's too bad you still need to buy some on the street. I'm sure there's a good reason. [I wasn’t, but what the heck.]
TRISH: I'm leaving my NA meeting now at [local recovery center] …I missed my methadone because I had to be in court. But everything is set up at my [new] home. I'm happy, healthy, I have been doing my cancer stuff also. I really need to dose!!! This is the best I have done in my life. If I don't do my methadone, I will lose my visits AGAIN!! I CAN'T LOSE ALL MY SHIT AGAIN.
So, I met her on a bench near the Co-op and we talked for a while. I.e., I asked her lots of questions. She explained she’d finally had the surgery she’d needed for the cancer and had started getting chemo every day, which would last for at least a month. And she’d applied for a job at a local supermarket. And the relative she was staying with insisted she eat at least one serving of protein a day (instead of her all-sugar-all-the-time diet).
After 15 minutes of this interrogation I gave her $20. We hugged each other, smiled and said, as we always have and I hope we always do:
Me: “Love you, babe.”
Trish: “Love you too…Now, you be good…”
Me: “Me???” Implying clearly that she was the one who needed to be good.
Her: “Hah!”
Do I believe her? Kind of doesn’t matter does it?
I suggested that if she’d really been off for two weeks she should be through the worst of withdrawal, even considering methadone’s relatively long half-life. Although, from what I read, it seems symptoms can last well past the period when most of it should be out of your system. There are a lot of sources of information about methadone withdrawal. E.g., https://www.addictioncenter.com/opiates/methadone/withdrawal-detox/ or https://www.drugs.com/medical-answers/long-methadone-withdrawal-3543797/
Yo buddy. I always admired your willingness to get involved, as seems to be your inclination, because you care. But from the beginning, I think we knew it was thin ice, dangerous, even though an interesting socio/anthropological exercise, so long as you could maintain a safe distance. And that perhaps has been the challenge; because you care. The additional frustration is: now what? What have you gleaned? What can be done about it? Do you have any "bottom lines" or lessons learned from your experience?
I dunno. I’m glad you gave Trish $20. I would’ve done the same. I never would say it’s a good thing to have to harden your heart. Things are bad and are only going to get worse for most people. Many more families will find themselves without a roof over their heads. I will continue to hand out $10 and $20 bills for as long as I can.