Today was the first time I had ever been to a meeting. A meeting of once drunks, two timing wasted wanderers and three fourths of a barrel of whiskey whisker lip smackers. I am an interested party, partitioning a new change in my life. The purpose of this change? It isn't hard to conceive but perhaps these following words won't do it. Yet, let me try. I am going to try to stay sober because I am a reoccurring hallucination addict. Since the year two thousand and eight I have dealt with being diagnosed bipolar after a bad mushroom trip, and that is only the second occurrence of my cycle, two years prior to that I gave up upon well someone that loved me. I was hallucinating when I broke up with her...at least I was hallucinating if you don't believe in ghosts, and two years prior to that may have been where this all started. Minutes before my families raging typhoon, comical clown, powerful princess, the beginning of my lessons in love teacher, the hero of the sandy shores, the queen of the courageous, my protector and my lost sibling who was just finding her ways death rattle. The dog may have lain it's head in my lap and told me to do something to save her without words...No no no, this is not where I meant to go. It is all I can seem to write about. The death of the black sheep, the genius fool, the grounded angel. I have been searching and winning at times moments beyond her death with her. I have racing stories that disrupt my day to day every two years. Much to the push and pursuit of psychedelics, a psychonauts mentality searching for a way to commune with the dead beyond whispered words over her urn. Where am I? What does this matter?
My hallucinations have been docile enough prior to this year. However, it was January seventh of the modern twenty second centuries twenty thousand fifteen that I was caught in a hallucination that called for blood! An act which goes against all of my cognizant being, all my fully functioning faculties, and the life of ignorance of which I am guilty. I cut, then sliced, then drew the blades silver shine over the baige of my skin, lines of depth but not of rose. I did not succeed in my first, or third, fifth or tenth, it was somewhere around my fourteenth I was brought closer to sense of What the hell was I doing? My mind preoccupied with the thought of an ex crying out to be separated from a blood pact from the fallen angel Damien. Fifteenth or sixteenth strike and there was enough depth to eek out a single drop of ruby liquid that carried the oxygen that helps my muscles and bones move and the reason my heart pumps, but a drop is far far far too much not to be taken seriously.
The events leading up to this night are a fuzz, but here is what I do know. I had been drinking frequently at night, I had been smoking from waking up to falling asleep, I had not been taking the lithium and risperidone prescribed to me by my doctors for keeping the bipolar at bay.
In the past I have had dealings with witches, deception by fraudulent friends, I have seen faries, and water turned into wine, I have had the displeasure of leaking out Loki's minion from a dungeons flame, I have seen thor's lightning as warning and I have torn my own worst parts out of myself and felt the terror of tantalizing trouble that is appealing in the darkest region of my low kept morals. Yet, I have never harmed a soul. Not myself nor any kin nor any friend, foe or fantasy. I have never harmed anyone until now. And by harming myself in lieu of being caught in one of my stories or delusions it has given me a fire in my heart, loins, and brain that it cannot happen again.
For too long have I gone and become sick then better then sober enough to try a drink, then well enough to smoke some pot, then adventorous enough to try a more powerful psychedelic, mushrooms and dmt being my favorite. I cannot continue this cycle anymore and must learn to catch myself before it ever gets so far that my faculties cannot function, because at those points I am only along for the ride and have no control over what thoughts come into my mind and what actions I might take. Prior to hurting myself my delusions and I would find a nice spot to smoke a pack of cigarettes and I would listen and smoke and that would be all, until I was noticed by someone with enough knowledge of my normal self to question if I was all right. I would go to a hospital and be treated get better and the cycle would begin again.
Alcoholics Anonymous I heard today is about giving yourself up to a higher power. Well I have slept with some higher powers in my hallucinations and I give myself up. I give myself up because I am confused and afraid of what I might do if I do not nip this in the butt. I entered my first meeting today and the topic of the day was admission of being powerless over alcohol. Yet, it seemed like such an oxymoron because I was there to take a step toward sobriety and that is a powerful step towards recovery. I find my self powerless to not stop my cycle. I have felt the height of exultation, sleeping with goddesses, and mating with elements, and the lowest I have come is that night of self harm.
With all these hallucinations of my own, of great powers and loves and dimensions and stories, is there anyone out there that believes I am a hallucination? Has God or Godess given me up as a figment? Am I praying to them or are they praying to me? Rooting for me to continue on and find my path beyond the rainbows into the sunset with a corporeal love. I don't know, perhaps I'll find out at my next meeting
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