I think it was midnight, but it could have been 6 p.m. for all I know. I was in some space time vector that was completely unfamiliar to me. There were strange owl men hanging from the branches of a nearby hotel and that fat sprawling caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland was worming its way through the walls. And this was just the beginning.
My pride did not let me see it at the time but I had a psychotic episode that night. A full year of straight drug use did me in and I was flying high as a kite 24/7. A lot of you may be thinking ‘High 24/7 without taking drugs? Awesome.’ But I can tell you from experience that psychosis is far from awesome. For one thing, you’re high all the time – absolutely no sobriety. In fact, tripping balls is your new sobriety, and this is how you lose touch with reality. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
My pride did not let me see it at the time but I had a psychotic episode that night.
It was the spring of my grade eleven year. I was on the upswing after a winter of hard drug use and regained some semblance of nerve in order to improve my life. I was feeling pretty weird now that I was off the “high-life express.” Life was slower, more relaxing – almost peaceful. I was living a calm and tranquil life, a feeling that most would envy. But not me, I equated it to a tranquilized life – heavily sedated, zombie-like, bored. I was bored all the time and a young man bored is never a good sign, in fact for me, it was an omen.
So I let myself slip. One toke here, a small one there. Eventually, I got sick and tired of the shit I was getting from my high school dealer, and ventured out into the world to find some quality kush. If I am only going to smoke once in a blue moon, I better have the best pot I can get my hands on.
If I am only going to smoke once in a blue moon, I better have the best pot I can get my hands on.
On my quest to find the holy grail of weed, I came across a fair amount of shady people. It was one of these people that I deemed trustworthy enough to buy a beno from. Within that beno, was the straw that broke the camel’s back – crack cocaine. It was fucked. After that, things really changed. I began having visions of grandiosity, more like megalomania. I was a manic, but I can’t deny that it felt good at the time, almost like a constant coke rush. I thought I was the shit, but this prefaced the destruction of my sane mind.
The next big impact my mind had to deal with was the Salvia Divinorum. And I’m not talking about the spiritual practice of chewing on this psychoactive plant’s leaves, I’m talking about smoking 500X out of a homemade pipe, which is what did it for me. For a week after that I could not sleep, instead I would wander through the woods by day and trip the fuck out all night. The worrying part was I was sober as a stone that week, yet the trips still came. Then I went to Germany.
I could not sleep; instead I would wander through the woods by day and trip the fuck out all night. The worrying part was I was sober as a stone that week, yet the trips still came.
Germany was a goddamn nightmare. Not only was I getting acquainted to my new brain addled state, but now I was thrust into a culture that I had no semblance of relation to. Despite this I was in party mode all the time, and with every passing night of late bar hopping I was getting worse. I can still remember how completely fucked I was by the time I got back to Canada. I was like a shamanistic techno-beast, or whatever you might call the equivalent of a spiritual Charlie Sheen.
Soon after the trip I found treatment, albeit against my will. After months of hospitalization and court hearings I made it back to the world of the living. I really have to hand it to the great people behind the treatment process – without them I have no idea where I would be. The moral of my story is, if you’re going to do drugs, don’t be a jackass about it. You’re not invincible; it will catch up to you. But if you’re lucky, it will leave you with a stronger perspective.