This is my meth story.
I have been through what I thought were the depths of hell when my every-day heroin addiction in New York was in full flight. Well, my heroin addiction doesn’t even come close to where my meth addiction story took me.
Y’all ready to go on a ride?
My Meth Story Begins — Wasting the Opportunity of a Lifetime, Shame, then Meth
My methamphetamine use starts later in my life. Addiction is a progressive illness, so that might partially explain how things got so out of hand so quickly. So let’s take a stroll back to around 2015–2016.
I was a patient at a methadone clinic in Dallas and had just kicked an 8 mg a day ativan habit that was going on simultaneously with my every-day methadone use. Everything was prescribed, but I abused both substances.
Even if I didn’t usually take more than prescribed and took it as directed, that combination would have gotten me sufficiently fucked up every single day. That’s right—a doctor was prescribing me 8 mg of ativan a day.
So now just on methadone while occasionally drinking and smoking marijuana, I was 29 years old. I was flown to New Orleans, LA to do a recording with a band of musicians who were beyond talented. I won’t name any of them, but the credits of people they had been performing with ranged from Prince to Snoop Dogg. I did great on the recording; however, we had a couple of performances that I stuck around for, and I totally blew it. Doing tons of cocaine and drinking, I did one of my usual behaviours, I disappeared from the stage during the performance. It was a common thing that unfortunately could happen at any moment with me.
Needless to say, this group did not ask me to become a full-time member and go on tour with them. Could you blame them? Ha!
I returned to Dallas depressed. I then remember being at an apartment in downtown Dallas where people were smoking meth pretty casually. It seemed like no big deal, so I learned how to smoke meth. Within a week probably, I had my own pipe and was buying it through a middleman.
My Meth Story Gets Worse
Man, I really enjoyed smoking meth, and if I would have stayed just smoking it and not taking it any further, I probably would still be successfully using meth. I know that sounds funny, but there are functioning meth addicts—they usually only smoke the stuff though.
So, in the beginning when I was just smoking it, I felt pretty good a lot of the time. I had some jazz improvisation students both in person and online. I was enthusiastic, and I know I inspired a couple of my students in particular. The meth got me going so fast that it slowed me down sometimes, in a good way at first—I thought. Sometimes It was beneficial for the music… until it wasn’t.
Anyways, when I was high, I would indulge in my new hobby: looking for girls on Facebook who like to do meth. Boy, I met some interesting characters to say the least.
On a more serious note it was depressing as well. One of the most beautiful girls I’d ever met ended up over at my mothers house where I was living, and she was selling her body for not much at all, and we will just leave it at that.
As per usual for me, it quickly became time to put some serious gas on this fire I had going.
Shooting Meth: Dark, Dark, Dark
Well if you’ve read my heroin addiction story then you know that I liked needles. It wasn’t until my friend S1 (we’ll just call him that for now) came over to the house one day. He had been shooting meth and heroin for months, and he definitely looked like it. (Currently I don’t know if S1 is alive, but I pray that he is.)
I drew up a shot of meth in a syringe, and I was ready to go. I couldn’t hit a vein for a while, so I took a break. S1 left, and then I tried again, and I succeeded!
When you shoot good meth, it completely knocks the wind out of you, as if you were kicked in the chest. It is beyond any rush I can ever describe, and it completely changed who I was as a human being from the very first shot.
I was living at mom’s house along with my aunt, and it wasn’t long before I got a phone call from my mother while I was at a gig in Deep Ellum. They had found about 50 syringes I had in my closet. They thought I was shooting heroin again. It was quickly revealed that it was meth I was shooting.
I vaguely remember my father, mother, and aunt trying to get me to get help, but I was just getting started. I was fleeing the house to take an Uber to a nearby hotel. My family called the police, because I’m sure they thought that if I got arrested for possession, they maybe could help save my life.
However, I got away.
This started my short time living the motel-to-motel street life. I saw a world that I never knew existed in the coming months, and I wish I never had never seen the lower dimensions of existence that I occupied during this time.
S1 and S2, the Lux, the Ace, and the For-Sure Existence of Demons
Now without a place to live, not being even in shape enough to perform, and with a vicious daily meth habit, I descended into a life I could not sustain. The meth had me more than heroin ever did.
When I would get so sick from coming off heroin, I couldn’t even muster the need to get money in different ways to get high. In a way this probably kept the addiction from getting more out of hand.
With meth when I would run out of money and drugs, I had an incredible energy to persist in order to stay high. What did this result in? Well it meant I became a conman and fed everyone that could give me something lie after lie after lie. I did this with many prostitutes, and they didn’t appreciate it too much.
Let me explain something to you; There is a big difference between the people that shoot meth and the people that don’t. Shooting meth quickly made me depraved, like a wild animal foaming at the mouth.
S1 and I were hanging out at this nasty apartment in Fort Worth when our friend S2 hit us up, saying he wanted to hang out. Now, S2 was a trip, I’d only heard stories about how bad of a drug addict he was while getting high, but finally I got to see it with my own eyes.
He came through the door with his all too familiar signature smile and introduced me to the dope motels. He really made these places sound dreamy; I didn’t know any better. He said, “Michael, I need to take you to the Luxury Inn!” “Yes, S2, lead the way!”
It sounded like an exciting place, not hell on earth.
Things Fall Apart
The Luxury Inn is in Ft. Worth and is a motel that seems to be shut down; however, it is definitely occupied on a daily basis. I saw many weird things for me to come to this conclusion, but the police in Dallas and Ft. Worth must be paid off, and some of them for sure protect criminals because of a profit, or blackmail.
This motel was occupied by drug dealers who ranged from age maybe 17 to 50. Prostitutes that would go work on the street were also there regularly.
I was what could be referred to as a tourist in the hood. I didn’t live there. If I wanted to get clean, I had a family that would help me and support me. S2 gave me some practical advice to help me survive out there:
- Stop being so nice to everyone
- Nobody is your friend out here
- Don’t let another man into your room at the motel
Soon S1, S2, and I went our separate ways, and I returned to the house my aunt and mother occupied. (This happened mainly because a prostitute had just robbed me.)
I made my family believe I was about to go to rehab, so this treatment center employee drove to pick me up. My mother gave me a nice amount of cash because she thought I would be in treatment for 90 days and didn’t want me to be without cash.
The friendly rehab driver drove me towards the treatment center when I decided to get out of the car, and then I hitched a ride from some strangers at a gas station and made my way to another hot dope motel… the Ace Motel.
My Meth Story Get Even Worse (Which I Know Sounds Impossible, but It’s True)
It’s wild that a place like the Ace even exists. It’s a place you could stay away from for months, then randomly show up at 3 AM and get dope, girls, and a room within about 20 minutes.
My sexual appetite became stronger and more depraved as time went on. All I will say now is that it just kept getting weirder and more degrading as time went on (perhaps I will write another post about this someday).
To make a long story short, I pissed off the wrong people, and I began to see that the underground hooker and possibly trafficking scene in Dallas was way more organized than I could ever have imagined, and there are more people involved than you would ever think.
Before long my presence in the underworld was flagged. I’m assuming I was showing up on websites where escorts would review Jons. I didn’t actually see anything on the internet, but a Filipino prostitute made it known to me that I was flagged on the web as a conman and possibly as an informant for the police.
I know why people thought I was with the police. I almost got cornered by people following me in Deep Ellum, a part of Dallas. When I thought it was pretty close to where I was gonna get pushed into a van to never be seen again, I would get on my cell phone and pretend I was talking to police and giving them information.
It’s crazy I know.
I went to a bar I used to play at frequently and talked to a bartender about the situation to make sure I wasn’t just imagining all these people following.
She told me that these people wanted to make a deal with me. Well, I wasn’t about to do that. Eventually this heat on me would disappear, as I would eventually vanish, seemingly into thin air.
Hi Ho! Off I Go!
I remember finally ending up at my grandmother’s house where my dad was living. I don’t know why I was allowed to stay there a few days. It had something to do with me being in a hospital, getting out, but not going straight to a treatment center.
My father went out of town for the evening, and I ended up breaking his gun safe open and selling his gun to a craigslist meth dealer who I’d never met before at about 3 AM.
That gun got me a lot of meth. Lots of meth and no money, no car etc.
Needless to say, I wasn’t able to leave the house by the time my dad got back, and he quickly saw that his gun safe had been broken into, so I had to leave. My journey on foot began. I think this probably the largest amount of meth I did in a day or so up to that point.
I was hanging out underneath where two highways cross one another.
Then I started seeing them.
A bunch of them.
Meth Led Me to Real-Life Demons
They all had these little devices that would blink a light whenever they pushed a button on them I guess. Come to find out much later that it had been discovered that there’s a cult operating in Dallas that is involved in sex trafficking and also doing stanic rituals in the woods.
There were a lot of trees where I ended this night.
It was the scariest shit I’ve ever experienced. There were a lot of people flashing these lights trying to get me to follow them into the trees.
Then at one point, I started to see hooded figures walking around, and whenever I’d get close to them, they would vanish. Now I’m sure I hallucinated a good portion of what I saw, but I’m aware that Dallas is one of the biggest sex trafficking cities in the U.S.A, so I wasn’t completely nuts—there was shady shit happening in those wooded areas, and I was not about to be sacrificed.
A Positive End to My Meth Story
I eventually found myself at a meditation retreat center where I worked as a volunteer for a long period of time. I was able to shut everything down and was in a place where nobody really knew where I was except family and maybe a couple of friends I eventually told when I finally decided I wanted a cell phone again.
It’s been a struggle the past 4 years or so, but I have some bouts of good sobriety here and there.
My meth story is strongly linked with this out-of-control sex and love addiction, and I have to work on recovery in both areas to even have a chance at not repeating this vile episode of my life.
Do you or someone you know have a problem with meth? Have you found recovery and happiness in life?
Leave a comment below—I’d love to hear from you.