Truth, Lies and Potions

I refused to end up like the rest of the other addicts. Not because there was something wrong with them, but simply because I didn’t want to be that kind of right.

“Okay Mike. Let’s figure this out. It’s not as difficult as it seems. Baby steps that’s all, baby steps.” A couple of hundred dollars could last me until my next check – if I budgeted well. But that had never been one of my strong points. “Well, no time like the present to learn”, I said reassuringly. Then there was next month and the month after to worry about. I punched my ego, my guard, for speaking such words into existence. I had no intention of being there next week let alone next month. Not if I had any to do with it. I crossed my fingers. “Whose side are you on?” I queried, leering at that doubting part of me. “Leave me alone, I’ve got work to do!” I heaved its emotional weight off me and refocused. “Just keep things in perspective Mike, you can make it.” But even I knew it’d take more than a few words of encouragement.

Perspective: I was experiencing a temporary setback, nothing more. An emotional cuff across the back of my head reprimanded me for my dishonesty. All I wanted to do was get it right once and for all, but what was that one thing I had to do to make it all better? Maybe I was stupid and couldn’t see it if it was handed to me on a silver platter. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” I grasped my head trying to stop those self-defeating thoughts from leaking out and poisoning any chance I had left. “Okay, I’ve tasted bitter defeat. I’ve learned my lesson. I can go home now. I’ve had my piece of the pie; I don’t need to eat the whole thing!” ‘Have you?’ a gentle voice asked. “Yes I have (confidence)… I think (confusion)… I hope (sorrow)…. No (truth).” The energy warped and I sat, sulked, pouted and cursed like a hurt little boy. Who was I kidding; I didn’t even know what my lessons were?

With that my emotional pummeling ceased, replaced by a wonderful sense of relief. Yet it went deeper than that. By sincerely accepting what I didn’t know my energy field hadn’t distorted as much. To test out my new revelation, I experimented away. First I tried known factual truths (at least to the best of my awareness) based on simple arithmetic, then on to what I was wearing. Only slight distortions were produced. Next I introduced complexity in the form of self-doubt, skepticism and mistrust in ever increasing amounts producing ever increasing distortions. In the extreme case, lying to myself in spite of already established truths produced absurd distortions. With so many variables and expressions of lying and truth telling, all I knew was I wanted to feel good without those hurtful distortions. Not knowing where the boundary between the two existed, I looked down at my heart. It was ironic and scary that I should be dependent on something within me, but for once I just gloated at discovering my own personal and natural ‘lie detector’ test.

Armed with my newly discovered technology, now I had to put it into practice and trust myself. All I needed to move forward was courage and determination. Without knowing what they looked like I was drawn back to my heart, which was fast becoming central to so many things.

Not knowing how to pay off my past debts, karmic or otherwise, I looked to the future. It felt distant and in a constant state of flux almost as if unwritten. In the present I saw breathtaking potential. Even with my past wreckage, present potential and unwritten future something was still missing that connected them all together. I’d come full circle yet again. Tears welled up. “Why can’t you just go away and leave me alone?” I pleaded angrily with the wreckage. “I know I’ve fucked up, fucked up big time. I just wanna start over again from scratch. I can’t clean all this up and start over at the same time. I don’t know how.” In the silence, I felt like someone or thing was listening to me. It was as if they were waiting for me to say some magic words, but there were so many things I could and had to say.

Seizing the momentum, I sat down and analyzed my situation once again. Through the fog came the idea of allocating chunks of my time and energy to my needs. This not only included getting off of drugs, but also things like eating, washing, sleeping, socializing, thinking and more planning. The hardest things would be washing and sleeping. Using my friends felt too much like manipulation and would have to be a last resort. I knew my social anxiety would get in the way of using restaurants or gyms whether they could stop me or not. Trading sex for a place to sleep made me feel sick to my stomach. I’d have to be really desperate to do that. “Weaklings, all of them! Abandoning me in my hour of need,” I cursed them and their uncontrollable sexual urges. “How many times have I been there for them? I’ll make it just to spite them. Then they’ll see what they’re really like. Ungrateful bastards. Just using me for my money and my drugs. No, I won’t reduce myself down to their level.” With renewed resolve, I needed a plan.


The answer came quickly and was so simple I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought about it before: I didn’t have to sleep! Who said I had to? The Beastie Boys didn’t ‘Sleep ‘til Brooklyn’ and Leonardo da Vinci apparently slept for only fifteen minutes a day. Granted his situation wasn’t remotely the same as mine. Still, I could nap on the beach, the grass or in the park. Better yet! I could create a crystal/drug/food/energy cocktail that would keep me going, possibly indefinitely. But I wouldn’t need it for long. “One step at a time, Mike. One step at a time,” I reassured myself. If I paid attention, it only had to last for three weeks.

From then on I wasn’t homeless. It simply wasn’t a word in my vocabulary. I didn’t need it. It didn’t apply to me and why should it? I was different than any other addict or anyone else in the whole wide world. I’d just created a magic potion that would help me create a new home and a new life. I just had to believe in it enough for it to work. Having no choice only made it stronger.


© Michael J. Varma, The Gong Show, 2011 –

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