One of the things Sherry first wanted me to look at was what I got from meth amphetamine. What did it serve me....and what was it's lie?
On both occasions of first using cocaine, back in my college days, then meth on the Girl's trip, there was an immediate feeling of everyting being right with the world, an extreme feeling of love for everything in it. Both times, I have a distinct memory of those firsts, looking at the trees and the sky, and seeing with such clarity and wonder over God's creation. The beauty that it held.
I'd label myself as "high" on the drug, but I'd never felt that way, at least not in the way that a high might suggest to someone; being spaced out, loopy, and unfocused. Just the opposite: in the beginning there was a very strong sense of calm clarity with a ton of extra energy. At the beginning, I felt I was so much better when using, because I could think so much clearer, remember a multitude of details, and have the energy to carry out more than my share of tasks.
On a number of occasions, however, there were episodes of a "bad" high. A bad dose, I'd wonder? (A foreshadowing.) Jittery hands, a knot in my stomach, sometimes feeling the blood rushing behind my ears with a strong undercurrent of panic and worry. Who knows about me? Am I dying? What am I forgetting to do? On those occasions, I'd lie on the couch with my eyes closed, willing those feelings to pass. On those occasions, I'd drink.
It killed my appetite and taste buds. I mean killed it. I had no desire to eat anything -nothing looked good. And that was confirmed when I forced myself to eat-everything tasted like cardboard. It was hard to swallow. I was intelligent an person though. I knew that I had to eat in order to maintain my secrecy. I couldn't get sick! So, the drug helped me to make wise choices, ironically speaking, I had better eat the good stuff that might provide me with the most vitamins so that I look as healthy as possible. I'd seen those pictures of meth addicts online. Their gaunt bodies,hair falling out,losing their teeth. I wouldn't be one of them. So I ate my vegetables,got a rounded meal(on the smallest plate possible).
I marveled once again that I felt SO normal on this drug, with such increased energy and clarity, that the only negative was it being illegal, making it impossible to live openly while using it. Shouldering that guilt and shame was overpowering....but the benefits it provided at the time overshadowed guilt by a longhaul.
Towards the end of my usage, the drug began to reveal it's lie to me. I was completely hooked at this point, so meth could reveal itself a bit more clearly to me. Almost like heading to bed with the guy of your dreams, only to wake in the morning, turn your head for a kiss and recognize you'd bedded this horrible monster.
My blood pressure was really racing. I could feel it pounding behind my ears. I was fearful of working out anymore. For the past 8 years, I was a regular at our local gym in aerobic classes and weight training. No longer. I was sure I'd stroke out. Though meth was supposed to make a person sexually stimulated, I kept my distance from Jim. I was worried our sexual escapades might make me have a heart attack. Too, I didn't want him to hold me and feel my racing heart. Look lovingly into my eyes and recognize a rim of residual white powder ringing my nostrils.
My fingers were so often in the crevice behind my earlobe feeling for my pulse, I began to fear that the part of my skull that framed this area was filling in. There was bone structure there that I'd not recognized before.
I felt my heart skipping beats. At one time I was completely convinced there was something wrong with my heart so that I'd be dead within the year. I'd lie in bed and think of my children: Ian finally starting to have an interest in girls, Mariah's adoration of her 4th grade teacher. I lay there and accepted that I was probably not going to see them grown up. Life wasn't so wonderful.
But I kept using.
I realized towards the end that it wasn't curbing my apetite as it had. And now, I'd resorted to sugar. Forget vitamin fulfillment. I could at least count on sugar to always have a great taste.
I'd become convinced there was a hole straight through the back of my nostril to my brain. That it was frying right though the grey matter.
And I knew that it was my usage that was making my mind so foggy, it's machinery feeling as if it were covered in some sticky glue. I couldn't remember SHIT! My brain seemed to react SO slowly to put together information from various sources. I was embarrassed to talk to friends and extended family members in any kind of intellectual conversation because I couldn't put two rational thoughts together. And I was extremely paranoid of their humor thinking that I was being laughed at - my stupidity. I became highly defensive.
Fear of dying, of stroking out, of someone finding out - checking my nostrils a gazillion times a day, of being forgetful and stupid, of my brain disintegrating. Pure isolation from all but my supplier and resulting lonliness. This was the ugly truth I lived with after meth took off it's beauty mask. This was the monster I awakened to after falling head over heels with its beauty.
But damn....that was a great drug.
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