VIEW on DRUGS

My view on drugs?

A no,no subject, a dynamic subject. A stand me up against the wall and shoot me subject. From my own experience, a witness first hand, knowing because I know experience.

I asked for a little relief for insomnia and a few years later I was taking at least fifteen drugs. Why? I only needed help to get to sleep. None of what I was given was for sleep. “They are addictive,” I was told. My legs tingled and threatened to jerk off my body, so I was given medication to alleviate that. It gave me cramps all over my body, so I was given more pills for that. They mad my stomach upset, so more pills for my stomach. Finally I was given Imovane to help me sleep. It put me to sleep in one hour or four hours. Neat. The side effects from this cocktail were so upsetting. I truly  cannot understand how anyone could give it to any living thing, not even to test animals. If those poor test animals could talk… It was pure torture.

It was the same with Ascenden. With this, I felt as if someone had plugged me into an electrical socket and then turned it on. “You’’ like this one,” I was told. Walking around wired out, now knowing who or where I was. “I would like that?” I am not insane, even though it was a wonder I wasn’t. Who can define sanity? “Hanging onto your head to the top didn’t blow off was not insanity?” Rolling in your bed with every nerve of your body excited? Insanity was being given medication and being told “You have a choice, to take it willingly or we’ll shove it down your throat or by needle.” SO what do I think of medication?

One day I walked out of a drug store with a month’s supply of meanies, so many now they were in a shopping bag. “What am I doing?” I asked myself. I dropped them in the garbage bin outside the drug store. Four hundred dollars of good taxpayers’ money – enough to feed a family for a month.

Now, as for the trip to the place where you get the little piece of paper to get the meanies. The trauma of trying to drive and park a car when you’re stoned, and removal of your transportation system. The bus, more fun and games, especially scraping the pennies to get on. Your bread money. Busses don’t take credit cards. You wait for hours in the office with the music shrilling in your ears trying hard to hold onto your chair. Until you’re ushered in. “How are you …. bla, bla, bla … an absent minded ‘that’s nice’. How’s your meds?” And out you go, back into the foreign atmosphere of the hostile street where people pass you as if you were invisible.

In Kitchener, they have meanies on wheels. Someone comes twice a day with your pills and orange juice to make sure you down them; no matter if you protest you don’t want them. Got to keep those meanies flowing. Keep the multi-million dollar industry moving for the sake of the economy.

No one thinks what they do to us. Sure we hide. If you had to walk around stoned, idiots intimidating you to take meanies just because you hear voices, read their minds, have visions or can’t sleep, because your ears are so sensitive and you hear things the deaf do not even know exist. Taking pills does not change the fact that other realities are real. Personally, I think everyone is jealous they are not privy to them – only us.

I am medication-free. It was not pleasant going cold turkey. It only lasted six months of screaming, running around like a chicken with my head cut off. It was worth it. I know I must monitor myself to prevent contact with hostile manipulative people. For the most part, I float through my day enjoying almost every minute taking in the beautiful composition of my environment. I smile at everyone I meet and get smiles back. I grab a hug whenever I can. I love to sit in the dark and talk with my own mind so I can converse with an intelligent person. I don’t think I need meanies. I am not paranoid either because I stand up and speak the truth. Being paranoid is putting up barriers so you don’t hear truth.

This is my experience. My personal witness. I can’t speak for anyone else. We are all different, trying the very best, we can get through each moment in our lives. If I am asked, I will tell you: it is after all a free country, isn’t it? I am a positive person. I look for the good in everything Isee. So what good came out of this? I know because I know what it feels like to be made a prisoner in a hospital, drugged into submission. But, and this is the big ‘but’, no one, but no one, has the right or the power to stop you from being who you are. I’m strong enough to be indoctrinated into the schizophrenic mind set. I remained FREE.