Let me state straight out that I have tried some narcotics in my lifetime, and one of them is crack. I want to talk about this because it's important. It was different than I expected it to be. It didn't make me bounce off the walls, tear your hair out, and fall into fits of madness and laughter. I actually just felt like laying down and writing in my journal- having generally positive and optimistic feelers The high was extremely short lived, but while under the influence I thought, "This is how I should feel all the time." After 20 minutes or so, during which you aren't even sure if you "feel anything," the good feelings fade and sobreity sets in, with an edge. At that point, wanted to be in a good mood again, and so the use continued. It's difficult for anyone to feel sobriety and reality set in because none of us (I'm pretty sure) feel how we think we "should feel" on a daily basis. And for people who are dealing with particularly difficult realities, such as homelessness, grief, etc., the urge to get that good mood back must be really strong.
The sad thing is, though, it was just a good mood. It's wasn't even euphoria or anything like that. It's just a basic feeling that everything is okay and everything will be okay. I think the fact that people kill for this drug speaks to how that feeling may seem simple but it's actually really elusive. Or maybe it speaks to my own whacked brain chemistry - the particular effect it had on me.
Addiction is like a dictatorship in the city of the mind. The takeover is insidious and sometimes slow, like the beautiful Trojan Horse rolling through the city gates. Once in power, the dictator's thoughts seem like your thoughts and you can't tell the two apart. And even if sometimes you can tell the difference, the ability comes and goes, and you can't tell when you can tell. The voice of addiction is always a little smarter than you are, no matter how smart you are. In fact, the smarter you are, the smarter it is. It is highly uncomfortable to resist that voice. And yes, I said uncomfortable, not painful! I'm not talking about physical withdrawals (irrelevant in this case for the most part). But do not underestimate the power of discomfort.
Last night I was feeling very sad and scared. So I came up with this image that helped me. Say the sadness and fear are this small black dot, like a throbbing planet. And while I'm in this moment, it feels like I'm in the dot or the dot is inside me. But actually, I'm the whole universe around it, as well as in it. Around the dot are all the years, all the time and space that lead up to this moment, as well as what will follow after it passes. Also, out there, are all the other people who aren't feeling what I'm feeling right now (although they may have felt it before). The point is, I can observe the dot, the planet that pulsates black and red... from the atmosphere. I can float around out there, and rest.
Some time during the night, I dreamed that acrobats were doing this very difficult, graceful routine on gymnastics bars. They were wearing bright colors and leaping in slow motion from one set of bars to another. While on the bars, they struck yoga poses, also in slow motion, and totally synchronized. The crowd, including myself, was saying "ooo" and "aaah" because it was so impressive and lovely. Sometimes a small group of them would go and I noticed one girl who wasn't perfect... and sometimes a couple of them would perform flawlessly. Somewhere in the vicinity, I went into a changing room. There were many dresses in there- fancy, expensive, and colorful dresses. I told someone that I had already tried them all on before. The only other part of this dream I remember is that there was some affection and interest between myself and a young man. He was white and around my own age; he was kind of a tough guy. At one point we were sitting in the same general space (an empty intersection near the acrobats?) and we were both working on writing lyrics. I noticed he was serious and hoped he could tell how serious I was and that he would respect that and like me because I liked him. Someone tried to bother me and I screamed at them to let me work because I had to perform or record really soon and didn't write anything good yet. In another part of the dream, I was looking down at the guy's thin, clothed body, and thinking that he was really hot. The last thing I remember is pouring him a cup of beer and making a bed for him on the floor. I went into another room to sleep.
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