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Free Vend...

  • By girly-d
  • On 21/11/2018
  • 0 comments

"Denise, this is Abigail...Abigail's come in for an assessment here today..." 'R' shouts happily, whilst waving a doll in my face in the foyer.

A doll who's day has clearly taken a nosedive suddenly, as less than ten minutes ago she was merrily hanging out on a windowsill a few doors down from here...however, due to a set of bizarre, mostly unforseen circumstances, she's found herself uprooted, and is currently the centre of attention here in a homeless resettlement centre, along with the rest of us, who, for one reason or another are currently  "in-between houses" and therefore "having a bit of a head-fuck" at the minute.

I try not to laugh, tell R that he's batting well out of his league and ask the staff to buzz me on into the main hall, where the coffee's set on free vend and there are homeless people, sandwiches and pasties aplenty.

I need to have a word with someone...

I can hear R banging on about Abigail behind me still, and for a fleeting second wonder where she'll end up later...now that R has taken a shine to her that literally could be anywhere...a gutter, a wheelie bin, Romania...Although in fairness I remind myself, "Abigail" is only a doll...All of the "real" women R knows are apparantly sat in the doorway of Wilko's still...at least that's what he said when I asked him where his real mates are...

I met him  in rehab.

I got with the program, kept myself clean and sorted my shit out before I left...R on the other hand didn't quite make it. He threw in the towel on a particularly  bad head day, told the staff to shove it and went awol off into town to score...and that was the end of that particular chapter and  'R's first and last attempt at rehab.

So it's good to see him smiling today...especially now that he's back on the streets...where smiles I'm guessing are pretty much  few and far between....especially on days like today when it's pissing it down and freezing cold outside.

Still, at least he's got his mates there waiting for him...plus now he's got Abigail to talk to...

I catch up with some familiar faces here and have the usual conversations...who's died, who's barred, who's been caught trying to rinse Primark etc...thankfully there's no real drama to speak of here today and so the place is pretty chilled...

Until I get a text from 'K' - another rehab friend of mine. The "magical thinking" guy from my blog.

The rehab "round-robin" guy...

He's in the hospital.

Again.

He's in a shitty headspace, he's hit the bottle hard, and now he doesn't give a fuck about anything...he's OD'd twice this week already and it's only fucking Wednesday...

He OD'd again at home...not long after I'd spoken to him that night outside the co-op.

Which is every shade of shit that you can think of...

So the Grim Reapers sat there beside him now on suicide watch, rubbing his hands by his hospital bed...patiently waiting for the next chink in my friends armour to show so that he can make sure that he doesn't get away from him again a third time...

And I'm getting ready to pack.

Because this is where I'm heading now...both physically and metaphorically.

I'm going back amongst it...

Because  someone has to tell it like it really is, mentally, physically and spiritually...how it really feels when your mental health is shot to bits, you are on your arse, reliant on handouts, barely treading water...and feeling like nobody gives one solitary fuck.

I'm going to be that someone...

It all starts here...

So watch this space...