God Reality? A Testimony (8)
December 3rd 2009 16:08
(8) Road to Perdition
“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction.” — Jesus, The Gospel of Matthew.
The incident with George was promptly buried along with those of Mamo. Unfortunately, however, the sense of shame that held these memories inside me began to fester and spread like an infection. I don’t really know what it was like for my friend or how he handled his situation, but I began to think that in some twisted way I must have attracted the foul acts upon me. That I was responsible! Of course, nothing could be further from the truth, but such is the way of the abused. Hence, alcohol became my soothing salve. However, sobriety would bring depression, a deep, dark pit that took days to crawl out from. Naturally, I couldn’t drink all the time, as my health and school grades were on the decline and questions would soon be asked. That’s when I found drugs. Or should I say, drugs found me.
With George gone my friends and I quickly turned his old shack into a den of iniquity, and I began to lead a double life. Monday to Friday I masqueraded as a student, albeit troubled and withdrawn but behaviour my parents were growing accustomed to since my exit from Chevalier, then come the weekend with them both at the hotel, it was party time.
This period of my life lasted for about five years, a time when illegal drugs were just beginning to come out of the closet so to speak and make their insidious presence felt in Australian society. Like most teenage boys who lived near the sea, my friends and I were surfers. We were a small group, fluctuating in numbers from six to ten. We got up to the usual mischief, like beach parties and air-rifle wars, however, even in the throws of binge drinking, it wasn’t until marijuana, LSD, and magic mushrooms came into our midst did life take on a depraved and sinister aspect. Our group went from a relatively harmless bunch that engaged in minor peer harassment and the odd scuffle, to a Lord of the Flies scenario.
Marijuana was the first drug to infiltrate our little group. At the time, it seemed harmless enough, causing laughter and silly behaviour, lethargy and the odd headache. However, what they say is true, pot opened the door to experimentation, and before we’d even considered the ramifications, we were dropping LSD and boiling up brews of ‘blue meanies’.
Within six months, we’d devolved from an innocuous bunch of teenagers, to a group of stoned Neanderthal’s roaming the streets in search of trouble and our next high.
And this was just fine as far as I was concerned, the further the escape from reality the better. It’s worth noting that even the most hallucinogenic trip acid and mushrooms gave me, none held a candle to the daymares of my childhood for visual and audio impact. This was unfortunate, for that would have turned me off drugs right there and then. Even so, the effects of these two poisons weren’t worth the side-effects, inclusive of a constant upset stomach and feeling like your brain was full of toxic sludge. That left the Pot. However, one of the problems with marijuana—and there are many—is that it amplifies feelings and emotions. If you feel good, likely chance you’ll feel better. If you feel bad, good chance you’ll feel worse. As I harboured shame, anger, and depression, of course a smoke of Pot sent me into a nosedive. So then I’d reach for the alcohol to feel better. A vicious cycle began that by my seventeenth birthday, had manifested into serious thoughts of self harm.
(Cont.)
“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction.” — Jesus, The Gospel of Matthew.
The incident with George was promptly buried along with those of Mamo. Unfortunately, however, the sense of shame that held these memories inside me began to fester and spread like an infection. I don’t really know what it was like for my friend or how he handled his situation, but I began to think that in some twisted way I must have attracted the foul acts upon me. That I was responsible! Of course, nothing could be further from the truth, but such is the way of the abused. Hence, alcohol became my soothing salve. However, sobriety would bring depression, a deep, dark pit that took days to crawl out from. Naturally, I couldn’t drink all the time, as my health and school grades were on the decline and questions would soon be asked. That’s when I found drugs. Or should I say, drugs found me.
This period of my life lasted for about five years, a time when illegal drugs were just beginning to come out of the closet so to speak and make their insidious presence felt in Australian society. Like most teenage boys who lived near the sea, my friends and I were surfers. We were a small group, fluctuating in numbers from six to ten. We got up to the usual mischief, like beach parties and air-rifle wars, however, even in the throws of binge drinking, it wasn’t until marijuana, LSD, and magic mushrooms came into our midst did life take on a depraved and sinister aspect. Our group went from a relatively harmless bunch that engaged in minor peer harassment and the odd scuffle, to a Lord of the Flies scenario.
Within six months, we’d devolved from an innocuous bunch of teenagers, to a group of stoned Neanderthal’s roaming the streets in search of trouble and our next high.
And this was just fine as far as I was concerned, the further the escape from reality the better. It’s worth noting that even the most hallucinogenic trip acid and mushrooms gave me, none held a candle to the daymares of my childhood for visual and audio impact. This was unfortunate, for that would have turned me off drugs right there and then. Even so, the effects of these two poisons weren’t worth the side-effects, inclusive of a constant upset stomach and feeling like your brain was full of toxic sludge. That left the Pot. However, one of the problems with marijuana—and there are many—is that it amplifies feelings and emotions. If you feel good, likely chance you’ll feel better. If you feel bad, good chance you’ll feel worse. As I harboured shame, anger, and depression, of course a smoke of Pot sent me into a nosedive. So then I’d reach for the alcohol to feel better. A vicious cycle began that by my seventeenth birthday, had manifested into serious thoughts of self harm.
(Cont.)
| 74 |
| Vote |
subscribe to this blog
