Chapter 12 - Pills

There is a saying in rehab. It is called swapping the witch for the bitch. It is when you give up drug and you replace it with another habit which is not as harmful. Damien is the best example of this. He's constantly munching down junk food. Milky bars, Potato chips at 6am, Doritos and 6.30am and then another milky bar before 8 o'clock. As he eats, he stares ahead vacuously. He seems to think about nothing, except the sweet taste in his mouth. Addicts will do anything to stop themselves from feeling anything. Like Sam. He spends two and a half hours a day in the gym. It is not healthy, but it stops him from feeling. Whatever it is that he feels that makes him an addict.

As for me, it has become cigarettes. I smoke and I smoke and I smoke. I smoke until I can hear my lungs wheeze. I light up a cigarette, take a drag, go into my room, take a puff of my ventolin, and then go outside and finish the cigarette.

Jimmy is well rounded in his habit-replacing. He smokes, he eats chocolate and he works out of the gym.

Today he has missed class; he's spent all day lying in the gym.

I go into his room.

"Hey Jimmy is everything ok?"
"Fine" he says, head resting on his hands, staring ahead.
"R u sure, uve been lying in bed all day"
"Look, come outside with me and have a cigarette"
We walk out to the verandah. He rolls me and him a cigarette. He puffs away.
"I found out that my father is alive. I've never met him; he was a one night stand for my Mum. He's working on the rigs in Scotland. All my life it's just, I don't know"
"So u didn't have a father growing up?"
"No. My Mum had bipolar and I basically spent most of my time looking after her. She was crazy; she used to do stuff like put all the dishes in her bedroom. I had to cook and clean and make sure she was ok. Now I found out that yes I have a father"
"R u going to contact him?"
"And say, what? I am in rehab? I'm not even sure if he wants to hear from me"
I didn't really know what to say, most people in here have more severe drug addictions than me. Most people in here have bigger problems than me.
"Jimmy, what is bothering u the most about all of this? I mean isn't it potentially good news?"
"You know what it is. It's that I've been such a shit father to my own kids"
"I can't imagine u being that bad"
"No, I’ve been site. My partner and I broke up at the end of 2006. She had another guy move in a month later. He became the new Dad. So I just thought, oh well, fuck it. I got drunk all the time and I didn't pick them up for weekend visits. I am a shit father, just like my father"
He gets up and butts out his cigarette.
"And there's something else that’s been bothering me as well, but U have to promise not to tell anyone"
"Yeah go on"
"I've started seeing Renee"
"Really? Well u did say u liked hippie chicks"
"We slept together on our weekend leave"
"So what's the problem?"
"They say rehab relationships never work and I just think I've got all this other stuff going around my head and a relationship is probably the last thing I need right now"
"Have u talked to her about it"
"Not really, I mean I like her, I just want to put things on hold until after I finish the program"
"Hey Jimmy, Y’know Renee is kind of religious"
"I know"
"And Ur not?"
"No"
"And u don't mind that she is really into her Christianity?"
"As long as she doesn't push it down my through then its fine"

Jimmy decides to come back to the afternoon classes.

For some reason or another, the class is tense.

Deanne, a new woman from drug court, breaks down. She says that on her day before coming in here her friends offered her drugs.

"There was shit everywhere" she says bursting into tears.

As she says it Jason the body builder, runs out of class and kicks the shit out of a bin.

"It is possible to be happy all the time, isn't it?" Stan asks Shirley
"I think we always have ups and downs" she says
"But I believe that I can always be happy all the time and feel good all the time"
I think that's why u smoke pot all the time Stan.
"That maybe so" Shirley says.
"Well then tell me what happy is" he says
"It means different things to different people"
"Don't give me that shit" Stan says, his face a flush and yelling "Just tell me what happiness is, tell me what it is"

"That's what 30 years of smoking pot will do" Damien says "It's ok, mate, why don't we talk about happiness after class"
"Ok, Damien, done. I just want to be able to connect my spirit with my soul. I feel emotionally inhibited"
Jesus Stan will u shut the fuck up.
"I think sometimes we have to face up to fact that we will always be addicts" Damien adds, randomly.
"I will not always be an addict" Renee says, looking frustrated "If I stop taking drugs then I am no longer an addict"
"No Renee, addiction is a disease. Our brains are different to the normal person's brain""Damien addiction is not a disease, it's a choice. We choose to take drugs and it's a simple as that"
"It's not that simple Renee, ur wrong"
"Don't tell me I'm wrong. U don't know me. U don't know anything about me"
"Well I'm sorry Renee but if u look at the Scientific Evidence u will see that u are wrong"
"Damien from now on, don't even talk to me. I don't like u. I don't like u one bit"

Shirley looks on worried.
"I think everyone needed to let off some steam today. Can I just remind u that u are here for u. As soon as put someone else ahead of the process of getting yourself better, u put urself behind"

I leave the class and I feel angry. I still feel angry about all the stuff that happened to me at school.

Night-time and I walk around the admin building and see three cane toads. I kick one and it dies before it hits the ground. It went up in the air and then landed, Limp and lifeless. I stamp on the other one's head, its blood splatters on the wall. The other one tries to make a run for it, it's pathetic. I break its spine with a rock. I pick all three of them up, put them into a plastic bag, and throw them in the bin.

I go to bed and I am awake until 5am.

I write a list of all the bad things that happen to me at high school

Morning. I know I have to talk to Shirley about how I am feeling. We sit down in the chill out room. She sits right next to me. I read out my list. I tell her about the name calling everyday. I tell her about the prank calls. I tell her about the teacher who kicked me out of class who then apologised for being homophobic. I tell her how nobody invited me to any parties. I tell her how no one would sit next to me in class. I tell her how much it hurt me to be rejected by my male peers. I tell her how I started to cutting myself when I was school. How I used needles. How I tried to kill myself. How I had panic attacks every time I left the house.

I also told her how I see myself now as being strong. That I think I am likeable now. That I am not picked on anymore and how much I want these scars to heal and stop hurting me.

But it still does hurt me. I hate to admit it, but I am scarred. The scars tell me I am not good enough. They tell me people don't like me. They tell me I am ugly. They tell me I am weird. They tell me I am a fuckwit. They tell me I am a freak and a loser. And I tell her I refuse to listen to that shit anymore. I cry and I cry and I cry. And it hurts and it feels good.

Shirley exhales out a long breath.

“I went through a similar thing because of my race,” she says “I was the only black kid in my school, kids can be cruel Luke. I am sure if you were to meet those people now, they would have a different attitude. You are brave, you are a man, you are strong, and you are a survivor. You have survived all that terrible stuff which shows incredible strength. And now you are allowing yourself to heal. You are doing well here Luke. Your honesty is doing you very well. All I can say is that you are a wonderful person and I think you are finally starting to see that.”

The counseling session ends. I feel... lighter, I feel safe, I feel like... me. I know that I am no longer blaming myself for all my suffering.

I slept all afternoon. I wake up peaceful, calm, determined and enlightened. For the first time in a long time, I think maybe I can get over things. Maybe things are going to be OK. Neurosis and trauma can come and go. But my addiction will always be there. Maybe, just maybe, thoughts do control everything. I control my thoughts and I can control the forces inside of me. No one, nothing, no hatred, no ignorance, no bullies, can ever take that away from me. I will always be me and that will always be enough.

It's night-time Christy calls me over to her window. She looked a little unpleasant. She doesn't have her false teeth in. She gives me chocolate, she tells me about her lesbian daughter, she tells me about a threesome she had with her husband and a prostitute.

She tells me about the bondage club that she goes to. “The first week me and you get out of here Luke, I will take you to that bondage club. There is one guy who goes there and likes his balls being punched in,” she says cackling away.

“And if anyone gives you shit in here, I will put a gun to their fucking head. I have strong maternal instincts when it comes to you" she says "And I was also wondering if u have 20 bucks I can borrow

I tell I don't. And I think that it pays to have a friend like Christy in a place like this.

I feel lighter and I still can't sleep. I have a never ending wall of thoughts that blocked me from fading away. The thoughts can't go pre-sleep stupid when you're trying to work shit out. I think about the bullying, I think about my failures, I think about the fact that I am here in rehab.

I lie awake.

Before class and I tell Richard I can't sleep. It's our first conversation since my refusal.

"You should try antipsychotics" he says "They make me feel stoned. I've never felt better"

I ask Sam about them
"They will control your thoughts" he says "U will be a dumb cunt just like the next person and I am sure part of u will really enjoy that"
"Yeah, well ur the mental bastard Sam" I say
"Actually I feel like a prince at the moment, I don't think I'll be going back to drugs in a hurry"
"Why is that?"
"Basically I am learning to have boundaries; I've never really had them before. The only boundaries I had were around religion"
"Ok, so why didn't u have boundaries?"
"I think it's because my first sexual experience screwed me up. My Aunty asked me to put my finger in her vagina when I was 6, so I did. It was a breach of trust and I've been racked with guilt ever since. But, I don't know; now I am just trying to find my relationship with God again. I don't feel guilty about that anymore. But having a sexual violation like that really screws with Ur sense of right and wrong from a young age"

I make an appointment with the Doctor. We walk into the surgery in a group. All the patients in the surgery know we are from Rehab and it makes them uncomfortable, but I don't care.
I ask the doctor if he would give me antipsychotics. He tells me he couldn't. He offers me antihistamine. I say no. He says, I could only take antipsychotics if I'd had psychotic episodes. I tell him I'd had many.

"Well we can only prescribe this drug for Schizophrenia or Bipolar and I think u fit the former"
I stand up and cry out "Yes"
My insanity had finally worked to my advantage. He gives me the prescription and I look forward to a full nights sleep.

I've got warm fuzzies all over. I'm excited about finding an escape. I can beat my own thoughts.

I wonder how far a pill could go. It wasn't just pill as metaphor as in a pill happy culture. Pills can do anything, they can make you healthy, make you sick, give you erections, make you lose weight, make you put on weight, give you more pleasure than anything could on this earth, and if you really wanted to, they can also kill you. Pills are small, compact, instant, mass produced, and a monumental triumph over nature. Me loves pills.

I'm sitting in the medication room waiting for my first antipsychotic. The crowd at night meds are generally the most mentally ill of the lot. And apparently, I was now one of them. There is Margie, with her cheek still rosy from all the years of alcoholism. Liam the schizophrenic, with big black bags under his eyes and there was Stan the cannabis addict who sat there saying "God has rescued me from my darkness".

My turn. I go into the little white meds room. I pick up the antipsychotic and I stare at it. How far can a pill go? Can it stop the endless pain of unrequited love? Can it stop me from the pain of trauma? Can it make me happy? I swallow it. I wait; I imagine it dousing the anxiety in my stomach. I picture memories of sociopathic boyfriends disappearing from my mind. Control. I want total control.

I go to bed an hour later and I'm dopey and blissed out. I am still a bit anxious but every time a bad thought enters my head, I tell it to disappear and it does. Pills can do anything and it all seems a little tragic that yes indeed science may have mapped my soul.