Meth: a Ticking Timebomb Gone Viral

Raised By Alcoholics

Everyone in my family is, or was, an alcoholic. When I was very young, I remember my mother and father arguing over something that I didn't understand. All I remember was feeling fear and anxiety and my father grabbing my mother by the throat and pushing her up against the wall of our kitchen. When he raised his fist, that fear was replaced by anger...an overpowering need to protect her at any cost.

He didn't throw that punch and I went with Mom outside and sat on her lap on our front steps. I remember her tears and the relief that it was over. When we went inside, the little boy inside of me grew into a man...far earlier than I should have. I barely remember what I said to him, but many years later (only a few years ago), my Mom told me of my words to him.

"If you hurt my Mom again, I'll get a big gun and shoot you dead."

Before Mom died, I wrote a poem about it...although I don't remember all the details, I remember the emotions. "Words From a Child" 

That was just the beginning of the horror of being raised by alcoholics. My Mom wasn't innocent and I remember the look that would come into her eyes whenever she would drink...looking for someone to turn on. The person I loved more than anyone in the world and I was at certain times, afraid of her. Luckily for her family and especially herself, she realised how alcohol was affecting her and she was the first to stop.

Life growing up in a household of alcoholics would have to be one of the worst upbringings. I understand there would be others who suffered worse than I did, and after a while, it became normal. My father withdrew into his haze and he wasn't violent towards us again after that exchange. I think he realised if he continued, it might affect his ability to consume alcohol every day for the rest of his life...and that was a risk he wasn't willing to take. My Mom's stopping would have also contributed to the lessening of the obvious signs of alcoholism and the violence it produces.

I was never sexually abused, and until the age of four or five, I wasn't aware of the reasons why there were times of extreme violence and verbal abuse; perpetrated by those I trusted and loved the most. But, by age eight or nine, a new threat came. My brother, who is four years older than me, became delinquent and uncontrollable. He would run away from home, steal whatever he could and refused to go to school.

Eventually, he was placed in an institution for young offenders, and that's where he was raped by men who prayed on these young and vulnerable boys. He changed dramatically after this, and as we grew older, my fear of him, especially when he was drinking, became the nightmare I was to endure for the next six or so years. He wasn't always around, and those were the times when things were as normal as they could be living with people who were (and some who still are today) addicted to alcohol. {item: "My Abuser" 

To quote from a song by Faith No More from the album 'Angel Dust'..."I ain't about to guzzle no tears...so kiss my ass."

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction...Newtow's third law of physics. And so, I came to loath alcohol. And not just the compound, but those who consumed it. They were, to me, sloppy, deranged and violent...or plain stupid. Slurring and stumbling their way through life, regretting every horrible thing they did the next day, but not enough to stop them from repeating their behaviour over and over again.

I swore I would never be one of those drunks...but that didn't mean addiction wouldn't follow me...and it did, towards a new and in my mind at the time, a more controllable drug. It began in my early twenties on a night out with my friends. We were after some pot, but when my friend arrived back from scoring the weed, he had a small bag of glass-like crystals...no more than a match head each for the three of us. I looked at it and said we should draw straws to see who gets the lot because there was so little there was no way it would do us all.

But my friend insisted it would be enough for us all, and with no idea what we were getting ourselves into, we swallowed the specks of glass and headed out to see a few bands. I don't remember who we saw that night, but I do remember it was early in the morning, long after the bands had finished, dancing to Red Hot Chilli Pepper's, 'Give It Away', from their excellent (and in my opinion, best) album, Blood Sugar Sex Magik. I also remember the three of us standing in my friend's bedroom as the sun rose...all talking fast and at the same time.

It was a great night, but the drug methamphetamine didn't re-enter my life until many years later. But I had gotten a taste, and that taste was enough so that when meth, ecstasy, crank and cocaine were offered to me and accepted during my rave years, I was instantly hooked...as I still am today.

Different drugs have different effects...and the fact that I hated alcohol, yet craved stimulants (in hindsight) made little difference at the end of the day. All psychoactive drugs (and many other things, too many to list) can and are addictive.

Tonight there was going to be a party at my neighbour's house. His friend from Denmark is here for two weeks and it's his 63rd birthday today. Since moving in almost three weeks ago, my neighbour has drunk alcohol every day. His Thai girlfriend, who also drinks every day, had a problem with me right from the beginning. It's anyone's guess as to why, but I have tried to be pleasant to her, in the hope she will accept me as his friend.

We have a door stop problem. The wind rushes through and if the door is left open, it slams shut. Packs of bottled water have been the solution, but whilst in a hardware store today, I purchased some wedges that when slipped in the gap under the door, stop it from slamming shut. I went next door to give him one for his door and his girlfriend refused to allow me to move the water bottles. I showed her the wedge, smiled and showed her what I wanted to do...but to no avail.

I was about to go on my walk, and when she told me to remove my shoes before entering the house, I gave her a look and left. By that stage, I'd had enough of her antics. It must have been obvious to her because when I got back from my walk and went around to the back verandah to ask about the party, I was told I wasn't welcome. My neighbour was obviously drunk and when he told me to fuck off and that I wasn't welcome in his house anymore, I couldn't resist asking him why...and that was my mistake. I should have said, OK, and left, but I'm not the type to let a drunken idiot (which proves what an idiot I am arguing with a drunk) abuse (OK...it wasn't abuse, but I still couldn't resist the temptation to push further) me because his Thai girlfriend saw an opportunity to cause a rift.

I made the mistake of not leaving when he told me to...he made the mistake of getting up off his chair pushing me in the chest and threatening me with physical violence unless I did. Now, I will point out that I was not on his property and was standing in the pool area. Sometimes, when push comes to shove, there needs to be a straightening out of acceptable behaviours between people...regardless of whether I was in the wrong for not immediately leaving or not.

Once one person puts their hands on another, that changes the rules of the disagreement altogether. I am feeling pretty good at the moment. I've been training every day and in the evening. I've regained my confidence since I stopped using meth and even though I was outnumbered three to one, I let him know that if he ever put his hands on me again, I would knock him out cold. His two friends sat silently as I explained to their friend that the only reason he wasn't lying on the ground bleeding was out of respect for him and I didn't want to ruin his friend's birthday party.

The truth is much simpler...I didn't hit him because I was sober and he was not. I am fit and have had years of Muay Thai training. If I had hit him and he fell and hit his head on the concrete and died, my life would have changed forever. My brain was so clear in the way it processed the situation. The chances of him and his friends all coming at me at once, and the fact that it wasn't worth my while using violence when I didn't have to, came to me in a few seconds. As soon as I 'stood up' to his threats, he quickly sat down, and as soon as he did that, I knew all I had to do was explain why I was upset (that he put his hands on me), why the whole thing was stupid when all I was trying to do was help him with the door issue, and I left.

I had made my point, but before I left I apologised to him and his friends. I also told him to apologise to his girlfriend for me (luckily she wasn't there otherwise he may have acted more aggressively to show her he wasn't afraid, even though I could see in his eyes he was scared shitless).

I'm not proud of the way I acted and, in hindsight, I should have done things differently. Instead of allowing my anger to boil over when he put his hands on me, I should have walked away. Now, I have lost a friend (although I think as long as he continues to drink, I am better off not hanging around with him). But, in saying that, I am also proud of myself for not becoming violent and potentially ruining my and his life forever.

People come and people go. And with or without his help going forward, I know I will be OK.

A side note...the weights gym I am joining has a Muay Thai gym upstairs and it comes with the membership. They don't train fighters and it's more for fitness than fighting...which is perfect for me. Today, when I was out getting the door stops, a store called Fairtex had just that day opened. They sell MMA and Muay Thai gear. I bought a pair of bag gloves, wraps and a Fairtex shirt.

Strange that on the day I decide to join a Muay Thai gym, after not training since 2012 (before that, I did eleven years straight, training six days a week) that I stood up to a drunken dickhead and did EXACTLY what I was always taught by my trainer...to show restraint and only use force if absolutely necessary.

Today I also decided that bar girls and alcohol are NOT going to become my new addictions. I feel good about that. And whether I eventually find someone to grow old with or not, my best friend (sorry Deb, you are my second best friend, I promise) will always be here...me.