I’m Your Pusherman
Yes I was a functional addict. A junkie in clean fashionable clothes, who lived in a nice apartment, drove a cute little Honda Civic, had a great job, that friendly voice who stopped to chat with you in the grocery store, had a handsome boyfriend, highly intelligent, living the good life or so it seemed. I was that one who could excel at work, attend professional and social events, school and sit next to your in the church pew on Sunday without nary a soul able to realize or see through my mask. A sanctioned addict because doctors gave me pills legally. But gradually cracks began to appear in my facade. A thousand little band-aids could not cover and certainly not heal my sick soul. It took coming face to face with my cousin who uses “illegal” drugs, drugs that the Rockefeller laws that could have you spending a long term visit at Bedford Correctional facility; to shake me up, empower me and force me to take a good long look at myself. Addiction is death. First it becomes a living death then finally once the body is broken and beaten drugs drags that empty shell into the grave. Death no longer carries a sickle in his skeletal hand but a bag of pills. Red ones, blue ones, green ones, all beckon you like Easter basket jelly beans. You think you’re chasing him to the false paradise of the next high but as in the movie Black Orpheus the Grim Reaper is in pursuit of you, mind, body, soul & spirit. And believe me the next opportunity to get high is always around the corner. Like the lyrics in the Beatles song, “I Get High with a little Help from My Friends.” Everybody is an aspiring junkie.
However I’ve managed to stay away from Ambien for over a month. I can’t say I’ll never fall off the wagon but my desire to live, progress, and do better is stronger. I know I have an addictive personality. My mother was an alcoholic. The overuse and misuse of alcohol was her only means of silencing the voices inside her head that came from having schizophrenia. Often addictions are passed from one generation to the next. Cravings to dull the pain are sadistic taskmasters driving the addict into a narcotic haze.
Addiction is often triggered by a traumatic life event such as sexual abuse, domestic violence or the death of a close family member. At first the addict thinks they can control the drugs but after a while the drugs begin to control them. Drugs are the new age demons that bid you escape your pain and heartache within the thrill of the next high. However within the last 20 years or so with the advent, promotion and marketing of anti-depressants, anxiety medications, pain pills and sleep aids Big Pharma is now the largest, strongest and most powerful legally sanctioned drug dealer in the United States. In hindsight it is interesting to note that within the last 5 years or so nearly all the anti-depressants I took from 1999 to 2007 have been shown to cause panic attacks and suicidal thoughts. Below are two blog posts about how I fell into the Rabbit Hole and the appeal of altered states to an addictive personality. Breaking free was and is very difficult because certain types of medications allow you to function normally at school, church or work yet enjoy those other dimensions or astral planes that exist in all our brains.