Not Afraid to Die

I was never afraid of death. In my addiction I died multiple times and was brought back to life. I had my stomach pumped, slashed my wrists, flew a car 97 feet clipping trees 32 feet in the air and had a couple of overdoses. I continued to use drugs and drive under the influence, so needless to say I wasn't afraid of death. I kept doing the things that had caused me to die previously. I was not afraid and took pride in it.

I was hopeless. The best I could hope for in a day was to get high multiple times, make money and that was about it. In my addiction I would sleep once a week, and I did this for years. I always made sure I had drugs to take as soon as I woke up, because that was where I  placed my hope. My higher power was drugs and money and everything that came with that. When I was an alcoholic I  knew that if I slept through the night without having the shakes wake me up, not urinating in the bed overnight and didn't have a hangover  that was the best I could hope for. That was the best my life was going to get. Not much hope there.

I was ashamed. I had already lost most of my values and morals. I put up so many walls that I was like the heart of the onion; completely covered so no one could know who I really was. I lied to everyone about my past so much that I began to believe the lies myself. It became my persona, the gang banger who moved to southwest Missouri. I was so ashamed of who I was I would lie to people when telling them the truth would not even matter.

I felt all alone. I could be in a house with 10 other people or a bar with 100's and would feel alone. I would spend hours shuffling cards or playing video games, making no contact with the outside world. I would have sex with people for the conquest. I would not know their name and  half the time they did not know mine because I wanted no one to truly get close to me. That way I could stay alone.

I hated myself. I would let no one get too close to me. I dated a lot of people. We used each other. I used them for the conquest, arm candy or to try to fix them up as a project. They used me for money, protection or drugs. If a girl I was dating told me she loved me I would break up with her if I thought she was telling the truth. "If you are sick enough to love someone like me, I can't be with you," I would say.

I felt numb. I think that is why I took the drugs to begin with. Maybe not in the very beginning, but in the end. The first time I smoked marijuana I did it to fit in, and I did. I soon learned that drugs numbed my pain, helped me forget about the abuse I  had suffered through as a kid. The hurt I felt from not fitting in disappeared. I learned that no one could hurt me if I was high, so I stayed that way all the time.

I felt dead. I no longer felt alive without putting chemicals in my body. In fact, the only time I felt alive was when I was sticking a needle into my arm or putting myself in a situation where I might die. I would feel alive when my car got searched and they didn't find the drugs. I would feel alive when I got into a fight or was running from the police. I felt dead and empty unless I was doing things that released massive amounts of adrenaline and/or dopamine.

I was evil. I consider meth a drug straight from the Devil. In my addiction, I was a soldier for Satan. I did his bidding and I brought more people into  his fold. I helped manufacture a drug that enabled society to continue its rapid decay. I dealt a drug that is associated with murder, rape, burglary and assault. I would take food stamps for 40 cents on the dollar from friends and 25 cents on the dollar from everybody else then throw the food stamps away because I felt they were beneath me and its not like I ate anyway. I took money out of kids mouths that needed it. I hurt friends physically over $25 to make an example of  them.

I wanted to die. I had no hope of getting of drugs, changing my lifestyle or not going back to prison other than death. Death would have been a reprieve at the time. Supporting an addiction to drugs, power and money is a very stressful job. Once a month, I would put one round in a .38, spin the cylinder and pull the trigger. I did that for the last year of my addiction.

But here is the truth...................................

I was scared to death. I was afraid that if I let someone in my life they would  hurt me. I had been hurt by people that were supposed to nurture and love me because they were related to me. I had been devastated by people claiming to be my friends and if I kept my walls up they could never hurt me again. Would I have really been so paranoid I played curtain patrol and had motion detectors and recording devices set everywhere if I wasn't scared?

I was afraid to live. I was afraid of truly trying because if I didn't try I couldn't fail. No one would expect much from me. I had tried and failed enough times in the beginning of my drug use that I was afraid to try again. I dropped out of high school and had never had a long term relationship. I broke off any relationships I had with people who truly cared about me so that I could simply exist. If I never tried anything, I could never fail again. If I kept people in my life who expected nothing of me I could do nothing.

I wanted to not hurt anymore. To accomplish that I tried drugs, alcohol, sex and power. I was still scared, angry and hurt. I tried suicide. I wasn't very good at it. I tried jail, house arrest and prison without any success. I was using half an hour after I got out of prison. I tried rehab, counseling and prescribed medication. The result was temporary at best and I would relapse within weeks at most. I could not escape who I was and what I had done.

What was the reason..............................

All of the trauma I had been through (whether it had been done to me or I had done it myself) had created a hole in me that I kept trying to fill with sex, money, power and drugs. Unfortunately, there was only one thing that could fill it. It was a hope sized hole that nothing man made could touch. There was not enough money, sex, drugs or counseling to fill it. And trust me, I tried. I still felt empty and broken, unworthy and worthless.

What is the answer.........................

Spiritual Spackle is based solely on one concept. Life creates holes in our souls, and the things we have available to us in this physical world only cover the holes. Notice I didn't say they fill the holes. They only cover them. The holes are still there. The Holy Spirit is like spackle for our soul. It is what is meant to fill the holes in and restore our hope. You can read more about the Spiritual Spackle Theory here http://spiritualspackle.blogspot.com/2011/08/spackle-theory.html

God is the bringer of true hope and purpose. In order to accept Him into our lives and live differently we have to:

1. Accept -  Admit that you have sinned.
2. Repent - Not just feel sorry for what you have done, but be ready to live your life differently.
3. Belief - Believe that Jesus is the son of God and that He died to forgive your sins
4. Action - Live your life differently. My life revolved around drugs from waking to sleep. Now it revolves around God and living a life I hope He finds pleasing
5. Prepare - (for Success) Use the 5 Pillars http://spiritualspackle.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-5-pillars.html or try the Locker Room approach http://spiritualspackle.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-locker-room.html

If anyone has any questions or requests, please let me know. Remember, the journey has just begun!