by James Bridges
Herbage Magazine
I can’t breath. There’s something in my throat and I’m not sure what has happened.
On the verge.
I could try and swallow but I feel as if that may not be the right choice.
Panic.
The mirror only shows me more bizarre unanswered questions. What the hell is in my throat?
I was in a position where I felt as if I moved the incorrect way or swallowed or took a deep breath that I was no longer going to exist. I wasn’t under water. It was as if I were floating in an ocean surrounded by water with something tugging at my feet so I couldn’t paddle.
Flashes from the night before start kicking in.
I tried to call a doctor and I couldn’t even talk. My mind is telling me there was a bubble in my throat and I was about to die.
That was the moment. The one when I realized that I had crossed a threshold. I was no longer using prescription medication for health reasons. I was having a hell of a good time staring the devil in the face as he flirted with me on the way down. I was now what my momma always warned me about…
It was right after that realization when I knew what it was like to be held under something’s grip. It was no longer an addiction thing. I had gotten myself into a bad spot mentally and physically.
Opened.
I’ve considered myself pretty well in tune with my “inner-self” for much of my life. I lost that during those times. I was under the impression that “losing” it was the “thing” to do. So I gave it a hell of a go.
Consequences.
We can tell ourselves every minute of every day that we are awake and something different so that we can strive to be that way. Or…. We could all admit that we are in fact already something different. Maybe it’s our environment that needs to change?
Back then I had the “normal” society telling me it’s ok to run. It’s ok to ignore the “magic”. According to the “normal” society you would have to be loony to think otherwise.
I found out that day that I had overdosed on a lot of different things inside of a nice cocktail that should have been the end of me a few times over. My tonsils were so swollen that they filled my mouth. If I had swallowed it would not have been a pretty sight, according to the man in the white suit.
I fell into the tornado of it all and that was a long time ago. That night I chose to take more pills to “smother” the pain.
I’m thankful for my moments, but I sometimes wish I could have them back. Don’t you?
