As I continued to walk I remembered a conversation with my son’s mum a few days earlier. She mentioned she didn’t want to cancel his phone because we would lose his voicemail. His dystonia had prohibited him from speaking since he got sick over 2 years ago. At the time I had thought that we could just save it to an audio file, but now I was tripping balls I saw it from a different perspective. You could call his number and hear his voice. Flashes of movies came into my mind where the characters had done this. I then realised I could call him and hear his voice again on his answering machine. The dam burst and the tears started to flow again. I remembered my sons voice. I remembered mourning my son that hadn’t actually died.
I spent so much time on psychedelics walking this same path along the beach in tears about his torturous sickness. And I realised I had to some extent blocked that out over the last 18 months since he stabilised. There was still grief there, but there was shame to feel it because he was still alive. I remembered his voice. I remembered his sweet nature and friendship we shared.
I called his number and to my surprise it rang. I was expecting it to go straight to voicemail. Of course it rang, my son is still alive even though he can’t answer the phone himself. Shit, one of his carers, or even worse his mum, will answer. I am way to wasted to talk to anyone. I hung up. A minute later his number called me back. Sorry son, I can’t right now. I hit the red button. I felt a little bad, but I just wasn’t capable in this state.
I continued to walk and it dawned on me I don’t call him as much as I could. I really should call him every day. Just to hi. He would love it. Of course he would love it. He sits there in his wheel chair all day watching TV. A call from his dad to let him know he is still loved and thought of would be a real highlight of his day. I really should call all the kids each day. 5 minutes would do. Why didn’t I think of this earlier. Why don’t I do this. I’m either too wasted or too caught up in my own self-centeredness. Ricky will help remind me. I will tell her and ask her to help me make that daily commitment.
I got back to the end of my street that intersected with the beach and considered going home, but despite walking for well over an hour, I still had plenty of energy – good acid will do that. And the weather was perfect too. I felt I could walk all day so I continued. My body felt great, my mind clear (as Iong as I didn’t need to talk to anyone) and I was thoroughly enjoying the beauty of my happy place. My LSD happy place. Where I was the centre of the universe and everything made sense.
And I’m really saying goodbye. As much as I enjoy this and think it harmless. And even offer me some benefits like processing emotions like the grief of my son, and the forgiveness of my mum, God damn, I can’t believe that happened. As good as this is. I can’t take it back to the real world with me. When I straighten up my heart closes and I am worse than if I never took it. It’s insane to continue to do something that I know makes my life as a whole worse. And I have a proven spiritual set of exercises known as the 12 steps that can stop this happening.
It hit me hard. As I looked around me at the shimmering ocean with the brightness and plethora of colours that I can only see in this place, the concrete path in front of me that looks like a river as I walk on it, the clouds morphing and dancing in the distance. The sheer beauty of this wonderland. It hits me that I will stop going insane and will no longer be able to justify coming here. It’s no longer up to me. The problem will be removed. And I will really have to say goodbye to wonderland whether I like it or not. I’m sad, but grateful there is a way out. I have to be clean. I have to repair and create bonds with my kids, my wife and my recovery friends, maybe even my mum. The steps will work and I will be propelled into the 4th dimension. I truly believe it.
But not today. Today I am in wonderland and I have 2CB at home which on top of this acid will send me into yet a different wonderland of self-centered perfection. I remember I have my vape in my pocket and pull it out. I take a seat and overlook my psychedelic ocean while it heats up. It buzzes and I puff on the delicious cannabis crystals and lose myself in meditation and the music still playing in my ears. My sweet drugs. It is really time for us to part. I will wake up tomorrow or maybe the next day and throw the rest of them out.
I start my new job on Monday. I have a new employer called God. I am excited by this new role. I no longer need to run the show myself. Monday I start my new job. Today is Friday. I really should get clean by Sunday. It would be a bit rude to get wasted the day before starting a new job. I’ll do my best. But today I am playing in wonderland. I’m going to go home and see my beautiful wife and hang out with her, have a rest, and then take that 2CB and head out on another psychedelic adventure.
Red Pill Recovery 