from junkie stories: incoherence

There was just too much . . .
Too much time, too much excess, too many excuses, and too many things between you me, us, and the rest of the world. There was too much need, which seemed to benefit the basic meaning of supply and demand.

We knew who we were. We knew which side of the line we stood. And we knew where to go. We could be in the middle of nowhere and still find our way if we needed to.
We knew the corners and we knew the spots. We knew who to talk to and who was the safest of unsafest people.

We were always looking for the next best thing. We tried to change our minds by finding purity in impure things.
We changed though.
We changed for the worst, which was apparent in every which way possible, so we changed our truths to allow us the lies we used to keep ourselves fed.
We excused our lifestyle, one dose at a time, to find that moment of sacramental peace and to find freedom in whichever form it would appear.

. . . . It’s like living in the awareness of your own mistakes and smiling at the denial about how far you’ve fallen . . . .
This can’t be me now
could it be?
is it?

Along the way, you lose yourself. Eventually, you lose your grin. Your eyes become absent of their previous charisma. You lose your ability to contend with the different crowds. You give way because the mask you wear slips too often, making it harder for you to conceal the truth about your demons. so you change your crowd instead of your actions to keep yourself from feeling unacceptable.

In your defense, you shove a package into the vacuum –
to be shielded in a soft cocoon
to slow down, to feel warm, soft
(and unfolded.)

And you try to make right. You try to take on the shapes and colors of your surroundings, like a chameleon, so you can blend in and hide in plain sight while you vanish in the background of mental distance.

At least here, you can feel the perfection spread through your blood. You can take the weight. You can withstand. You can absorb and feel unobjectionable. Nothing matters so much now. the pressure is off.

You become soft and gel-like as you move through the room. You find yourself comfortable in the weightless span of time and timelessness.
(The nod.)
The tension is gone; vanished and clear. Nothing is heavy. No plans. No worries. No wondering. No thought. Just high

Next:
Dawn arrives in your part of town. It’s morning. You can see bands of color spreading outwards across the horizon but you have no clue about what happened last night or the night before.

I woke up under a bridge once. I mean, I know how I got there. I know why I went there. I had no idea how long I stayed for or when it was that I realized I pissed my pants . . .

I remember sitting on the swings at the swing set in the playground of my elementary school. And again, I know how I got there. I know what I did before then. I know why I was there. I just don’t know what happened between the nods. I slipped away, drooling on myself in the coolness of a springtime wind. Summertime was about to come and I had no idea what the upcoming months had in store for me.

I remember thinking, “This must be what the warned me about.”
This must be why the first hit is always free.
I remember thinking this couldn’t be me.
But it was me. I was there.
I know I was there.
I know this was me and this was my life.
And I remember it too, but yet, I can’t feel it.
It seems more like something I saw in a movie or read in a book somewhere. But it wasn’t.
It was me.

I try to laugh as much as I can now. Although these memories come from a painful time; I work to see them from a different angle. Part of my motivational presentations are done from an impactful standpoint, in which I try to pull emotion; however, I have learned that adding humor to my story is also equally impactful.
Know why?
Because it’s cool to show one can live, laugh, and be funny without needing anything other than themselves to be who they are.

Everyone talks about mind altering part. They describe the highs. They talk about the things they did and the people they hurt. They talk about their résumé and their history but they never define why they did what they did.

Want to know why I did what I did?

I was uncomfortable. Anxiety can be a killer. Panic attacks and anxiety attacks are torturous. I never knew what social anxiety was. I just knew I was severely uncomfortable.
I knew I was angry. I knew I was afraid. I felt vulnerable and weak. I was petrified. And fear; fear can be the worst feeling in the world.

The mind is always looking to fix itself. For example, ever see an ant get hurt before? I swear someone told me this. I was told that if i tap my finger on an ant, if it doesn’t die, it will tend to itself to fix its pain.
The ant tends to its injury. At least this is what I was told. The ant wiggles around and tries to fix itself. To me, getting high was the same thing. To me, this is why they called it a fix.

The mind is always trying to fix itself. The mind always wants comfort. It always wants to be healed, to be justified, to feel accepted, and to be free of any weight or depressive thought.
All the mind wants is freedom.

In my case, I suffered (and I do mean suffered) from violent fantasies. After feeling so small and insignificant, after being ripped off and screwed over by friends, which I allowed to take advantage of me because I feared being alone and socially unwanted, and after being physically beaten, after feeling as though I could never defend myself properly; eventually, my mind began to collapse.
I heard the sound of breaking glass. I would clinch. I closed my eyes tightly. Almost all of this was involuntary. I would see an unforgivable flash of violence in my mind. I could literally see this bloodthirsty vision. Sometimes, I felt justified. Sometimes this happened when I just wanted to be left alone. Eventually, I lost my choices

I did what I did to medicate the aggression. I did what I did to euthanize my thinking; to let it die, and to let myself feel reborn again, and new.

I did what I did to feel protected. I did what I did because of all the uncontrollable things in life. I knew I couldn’t stop the thinking. I couldn’t stop the feeling. I couldn’t fix my height or size of the fact that one of my eyes is shaped differently from the other. One of my ears is too. I knew i could not fix my uncomfortably in crowds. I could not dull the sounds or soften the voices of my insecurity. But at least I could control my mind by altering it to an unobjectionable state. This way I could say, “I just don’t care,” and really mean it.

I didn’t have to worry about you or what you thought. I wasn’t afraid of pain because I was numb.
I was anesthetized.
This was my anesthesia. 
Funny too because when I submitted recently myself to a new effective treatment that helps with medicinally resistant depression; I was about to be placed under.
The Doc asked, “Have you ever been placed under anesthesia before?”
I laughed and said, “Never by a doctor.”

But what is anesthesia?
Anesthesia gives us an insensibility to pain.
Right?
We use anesthesia to intervene and permit the performance of a procedure to be done without pain or discomfort.
Well, I was uncomfortable.

Remember when I explained the mind just wants comfort?  Remember when I explained the mind just wants to fix itself?
If we do not address our discomforts and if we do not find a way to solve us and feel better (so to speak) the mind has a natural tendency to defend itself and balance our unbalanced system.
I didn’t mind the feeling of incoherence after a while. Some would say this was the point. Besides, I never believed it was coherently possible to withstand life as it was.

If want to help someone, —and I mean, if you really want to help someone, then help them define the thing behind the thing.
Do not pay so much attention to the symptoms.

If you remedy the symptoms, the problem still occurs. However, if you remedy the problem the symptoms become . . . . what’s that word again?

Oh yeah, unobjectionable.

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