Back from the Living Dead…

(Rock Bottom)

It was two Christmases before the one we've just had when I tried to kill myself.

Of all the low places I have managed to sink to during the course of my life, this was without doubt the lowest. I had run out of internal resources completely. Events in my life, consequences of my actions, the seemingly hopeless failure of all my relationships and the inability to see any future other than a continuing downward spiral of despair and personal slavery all conspired to “break the camels back” so to speak.

I made the attempt in the most obvious way for me. I was still taking about 80mls a day of Methadone Hydrochloride back then, and was trusted enough to pick it up weekly. This gave me access on that particular day to over half a litre of Methadone. Okay, so I have a natural resilience to narcotic effects (I know this now) and obviously I had a tolerance level built up over many years of daily use. That all said however, the amount of alcohol I had consumed, topped off with this half litre of Methadone, really should have been enough to kill anyone, or pretty much anything!

At least that was what I believed as I drank the whole syrupy, sickly green cocktail down my throat.

I remember writing out my classically deranged “suicide note”. (I still have it among my many scribblings, a constant reminder.)

I remember thinking to myself “Are you going to regret this? You are going to die now you know?”

I could come up with no answer, just a kind of peaceful, but sad resignation of failure. I couldn't see a way forward worth taking. I had reached the end of the line, and so I gave up on myself, my family, my friends and my life…..

….I gave up on Hope….and I gave up on Love.

I recall vaguely that I ended up talking to someone from the Samaritans. I would not tell them where I was. I did not want rescuing from it; I just didn't want to die alone. That poor woman on the other end must have felt so helpless as she listened to me making less and less sense, and becoming less and less responsive until I….simply faded……………………………………………………………………….. …………………………………………….out…………………………completely………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..!

*****

…..I came to in my chair I don’t know how many hours later. I was a bit groggy and a bit nauseous. I think I threw up a bit, but otherwise I was fairly okay really! I got myself an ambulance just to be sure. I got myself checked over at the hospital. A psychiatrist chatted to me (an experience which always either annoys or amuses me on some level) bless her.

I then began my arduous and determined climb back into the world of Humanity.

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You may often hear some folk talk to you about their conversion experience to this belief system or another. They will say things along the lines of “you have to reach rock bottom”. I've said it myself in the past (even on this blog) and in my Christian days I truly believed that I had reached that place already.

I hadn't.

The place I reached back in ’91, in a Lincoln prison cell, when I discovered the “Reality” of Yeshua was really just a foretaste of things to come. I had to travel yet darker and more diabolical roads before I really came to my senses. I had to plumb the depth of despair to find hope again. (This may say something about my learning abilities, or lack of them!)

*******

What I am trying to say may sound very clichéd, and perhaps it is. Clichés do not become clichés without good reason after all.

My message today is really for any one who is trying to hold on to hope in the face of a loved ones self destructive addictions. Because I didn't think I was going to make it. My mother (who is one of my greatest inspirations in life) didn't think I was going to make it either, she told me as much quite recently. Nobody who knew me had much hope, and I for one do not blame them. I have been a seemingly hopeless case for as long as I can remember.

We all have to walk the roads we have to walk I guess; getting to whatever destination we get to by whatever means we can. As I have mentioned in an earlier post I do not feel sure that I chose this road at all. It feels now, looking back, as if this road chose me. However, I am not saying I recommend that anyone else should follow in my steps, because if you do you may not be as fortunate as me.

I could list many names here of people no different to myself in any way who were not as fortunate and are no longer with us in this physical plane.

But hope continues to fight on in this world. Even some of the addicts who are no longer walking amongst us are still influencing people. Nothing is wasted. For an example; I am continually inspired and uplifted by, among others, the creativity of Amy Winehouse. For me, from my perspective, she has not died at all. She is still singing truth and honesty and love into my ears whenever I want her to, and although the addict you’re concerned for, or grieving over, may not be as talented or impressive an individual as Amy Winehouse certainly is, yet I firmly believe that nothing in this life is ever wasted. Energy cannot be destroyed, only converted into another form, and I for one get a charge of energy, hope, encouragement and self belief whenever I listen to the music, poetry, literature, philosophy, social satire or mysticism of any number of dead addicts from down the ages.

So am I saying to you not to give up hope? Yes. No. I am not sure really, because if I had clung on to hope, refusing to surrender the possibility that I could be strong enough to dig myself out of the hole I had dug myself into, then I really would never have reached “rock bottom” and so I never would have cried out with all that I am…..

…..”God, have mercy on me, a sinner”.

Love Courage and Strength to you all,

A