The mysteries of meth and masquerades

Image result for ashesYou know, when I look back into my history and see these memories chard in the ashes of the old me - I feel pain, excitement, and anxiety. All of this is going to bring to the  sober surface the emotions I once numbed living fast and going nowhere. I thought things didn’t hurt. 

I wonder though if every detail reminisced will be accurately acquired through the somewhat mystical wires of my mind. It’s like, do we remember the event, or the memory of the event? I guess it’s a good thing that I wrote a lot back then and saved a lot of journals. 

In the future tales of my past, I solemnly promise to be as objective as possible. What I mean is that for some reason during these incredibly outrageous moments of madness, I honestly remember how crazy and irrational these thoughts and circumstances were. This prevented me from making headlines as the other crazy bath salted man in Florida. 

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I left off my last letter at the twilight of my new life. Ever think about the beauty of twilight? Sunsets and sunrises. The 
transition from light to dark, and dark to light is a mystery, is it not? It's like, can we just pause reality please? These types of pictures are always prejudice and never give justice to the true authentic experience. From darkness to light; how much struggle is going on during this wrestling match of change? This action filled air is giving us the awesome aurora we are able to observe.

My transitions from dark to light may not be as beautiful as the wonders of our world, yet maybe to onlookers it is.  And so, now a section of my twilight.

"Well well, here is my notebook back to pen some six months later. Let me inform you that I never made it home. Nope, never saw my son. I never made it to into the Columbus airport. Columbus, that city and I got history, but that's another story. Oh yeah, I never made it into the airport without handcuffs is what I meant to say. My saintly mother thought it best she should enlighten the airport security that her son was wanted ALIVE by the Fairfield County Sheriffs Department and that he was arriving momentarily. I neglected to tell you a couple minor details in my last writing. Probably because I was high. I am a drug addict. Pretty bad. Before I got on that plane I had been awake close to two days on crack. I just shot my last bit right inside the airport and flushed my needle down the toilet. I remember trying to guard my sanity from the demon of paranoia. It is so easy to be high around other people that are high, but when you are around 1000 sober people and under fluorescent lights something changes.
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"They know. I am the only person sweating beads of sweat. I thought airports had air-conditioning? I’ll just wait. Now where am I going."

Then at that moment I was free. Free from the demons grasp. My mind preoccupied with direction. Direction.... I know I can not miss this flight. This flight is going to change my life I have to make it. I hate airports too, I always get lost. Finally I found it, found my gate. The gateway to a New World. The gate home. People were lined up single file, most already on board. I was last in line, I barely made it. After I sat down the flight attendant came by and asked "Would you like  drink sir?" My response triggered a deep sigh of relaxation with the words, "You have alcohol right?"

My wife and I met about seven years ago. Yeah… The seven-year itch, she was a nasty one. Wait, eight years now. Wow. She was a cheerleader. I played football. She ended up graduating from alternative school, for she led an "alternative" lifestyle. I graduated from high school because I lived a "normal" lifestyle. She prefers indoors and air-conditioning, I would rather be outside in the brisk breeze. She likes to smoke pot. Me, well I prefer my cold beer. Today she is in Florida with a man named Randy who buys her Xanax, methadone, pot and takes her to the zoo. Me, I’m in rehab.

"I cannot stop staring. Why is she doing that? That isn't her. She looks the same. Just different. Am I picking at her? I am high on crystal meth. I have been up for a couple days. Am I the problem? What’s wrong with me. No! Everyone is out to get me. I'm on TV. I’ve got to be. Ah! I'm going nuts. What's this? She is not the same! Where did my wife go? What happened to us? This place. This hell. This, what is this? I am sure she is cheating on me. Positive! I only have to catch her." I left the room and could 

Image result for invisible peoplehear them--Her moans.  I went  back into the room and she was sleeping, or watching TV, alone. Sorcery! Witchcraft! Invisible people. I knew they were there. I could hear them-- and see some of them.

It's weird reliving these memories of what happened. I am crazy, but there’s so much more, so much more.

"An adams apple? When does an Adams apple just appear! What? Who are you? Why are you yelling? You are acting nuts! You don't have to babysit me" 

I left the house during a heated argument.  As I’m standing outside the door on the porch she is still flipping out. The man we were staying with us was trying to calm her down. "Heather! Heather!" --No response-- "Danny!" Then silence.....

Image result for celestial chess"Where did my wife go? Why does this only happen here? Where is here? No, where was that?" Trapped in my minds delusion. I was positive he just called HIM Danny! Who the hell is Danny? I knew it was a boy. She’s been kidnapped, abducted, taken by some underground sex society. Sex traffickers, I hate them. Kidnapping is the worst of all crimes. Ripping someone from their own security, so they thought, their love, their way then submerged in a hell of torment and suffering. Our choices brought us there. The real question is who manipulated our minds? Were we influenced by external spirits in a cosmic chess game of the celestial stages? Or were we trying to rationalize our own choices by not taking responsibility for actions. I have got to find her.

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My paranoia propelled me into the night. The streets were empty. My spirit lead me to the house. It was a huge brick two-story house. It had iron gates over the windows, cameras all around the perimeter and was wrapped with a chain-link fence with a locked gate. I stared out the window and knew she was in there. I could hear her voice. Our love blossomed our minds and through drug enhanced telepathy I knew she needed me to save her. Her screams for a savior were ringing in the depths of my mind. I continued to stare from the dark deserted ally an hour at a window plotting  strategies to save her. I am her Savior.

I must change my thinking. I am using my criminal thinking. I am an addict and this is addictive thinking. This is what the STAR program teaches. Rehab. From what I understand this is no ordinary rehab. Other rehabs are more like a minimum security jail. This is an in-house college for sinners. I did break laws. I’ve broken a lot of laws. Not that I’m a criminal, so I thought. I am a good person. I am honest. I am just supporting my disease. If I was stealing from stores to get money for my cancer medication and hospital visits would society look at me different? Or am I just another animal satisfying its own desires to pleasure it senses? I have the ability to understand and be rational. This makes me a rational being, above mere livestock. I am just sick. I need to control myself. They say for an addict this is impossible. Balance and harmony. Sun Tzu I believe defines balance as before a emotion arises. Harmony as moderate controlled motion. I am here to learn. I am here to study. I am learning me. I am studying me. I am here so I can leave and truly, with no doubt, understand who I am genuinely, as me."

When I came back to Ohio I spent five months in jail, then four in rehab. During the jail term things were different than they ever had been before. The jail was the same. My mindset had changed. I looked at it as training. I told people passionately that it is a war out there! Seriously though. It is. Every time I went to jail I failed. I would leave and use. Up until THIS day, 100% of the time life would kick my ass. I played worse than the Browns play in season. This is different. I was serious. I did everything different from how I spoke and what about, all the way to copying the book of Proverbs left handed. If I was going to win this war, I had to prepare. 

Lesson Learned: Direction is vitally important to my recovery. Staying busy, moving with purpose keeps me focused on something much more important. 

I suppose though you are all wondering what happened next in the ally though. Did I save Heather? Did I get arrested? Ha. You'll never guess. Where I went, is unguessable. I'll continue that part of the story next time. Oh man....

The BA2L is real,
Be addicted to life,


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