METH INDUCED PSYCHOSIS Part 1

All of the people mentioned in this story are real. Names have been altered to protect privacy.

I woke up in my parent’s house on Saturday, June 21,2008 after a four day intravenous meth binge. I was completely tweaked out from the drug still coursing through my veins. I went way over the dosage my body could handle on Thursday. So much that I did not know what was real anymore, if I was asleep, awake or even alive for that matter. I had just, in the month before, started shooting meth and never knew a drug could plateau over two days.

My best friend’s brother, Mule, had stayed at the house with his girlfriend, Pam, the night before so they could keep an eye on my very paranoid, almost schizophrenic behavior. I, on the other hand, thought the meth had worn off because it seemed I had been sleeping. I had skipped out of work early on Wednesday since I had a syringe in my pocket and felt the whole office was watching me. I told my boss I was schizophrenic and did not take my pills that day so I would come in on Saturday to make up for it. I worked at a telephone survey corporation called Promart Research. Since I had damn near totaled my car on Thursday night, Mule had to take me in to work. His girlfriend had already left earlier. Before we left, Mule advised me to not go to work because I still looked like I was on hard drugs. I told him it would be fine, still trusting myself.

As we started out on the road heading to work, the meth feeling started to arise inside me. Mule was on the phone talking to his girlfriend and letting her know where we were going. I rode impatient and twitchy, getting more and more nervous about the work situation. As we approached Promart, I asked Mule to sell me a few Xanax to calm me down. My heart was racing. He sold me four and I got out of the car, dropping the Xanax and some papers in my lap all over the ground. I didn’t even notice and suspiciously went to the call center on the fifth floor.

As soon as I began working, I was jumbling all of my speech and having trouble reading the computer screen. Most of the people on the phone would hang up because my speech must have sounded like gibberish. I kept worrying that my supervisor was listening and was thinking of writing me up. I went out for a cigarette after about an hour, telling myself that I could not keep working like this. I decided to just leave right then and there but I realized that I had my time sheet in my hand. I had to bring it back up in the building or I would lose a week’s worth of pay. I paced around the parking lot, debating whether or not I should go back in there. I finally forced myself to go back in because I had worked over 40 hours that week.

When I got up there, I told the supervisor, Teresa, that I could not read the surveys. She just laughed at me and said, “They’re so easy though!”. She then asked, “Well, do you want a stop time then?" My coworker, Shane, interrupted and said, "C'mon man, help us out, you’ve only been here two hours!" After that comment, I went ahead and told Teresa that I thought the call center was plotting against me and I needed a stop time to get the hell out of there. She then said,"Alright, you better check your phone.” and gave me a stop time. I gave her a puzzled look from what she said about my phone, wrote the stop time down and got out of there as fast as I could.

When I got outside, I lit up a Marlboro 27 and took a long drag. I then realized my car had been damn near totaled on Thursday and I had gotten dropped off by Mule. I got on the phone and called him. He didn’t answer. I called everyone I knew. No one answered. I finally said, “Fuck it.” and started to walk toward home (about 30 miles away). I was too far gone and wired to stay in one place. It was almost 100 degrees in humid Houston weather in bad part of town. I looked through my pockets, I had a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a cell phone, a smoked roach, a bottle of Klonopin and an envelope with over $1000 from selling cocaine. I stopped at a burger king and flushed the roach so I wouldn’t have anything illegal on me. I took off my collared shirt because of the heat when I got back outside. Now I was walking down FM 1960 (one of the busiest roads in the Houston area) in a wife beater. My body was emaciated from the past weeks of speed use and I had a railway of track marks spanning from mid arm all the way up to the top of my bicep. I kept thinking I would get stopped by a cop or someone would try to rob me.

I continued my long trek east chain smoking cigarettes in the Houston sun. After walking for a while, I figured I should put something in my stomach for energy. I rarely felt hunger anymore. I stopped in at a Taco Bell and bought 3 Baja Gorditas. By this time I was hearing voices that were not there. They had been coming and going all week long. The were telling me to not look up as I ate. I felt eyes burning into me but dared not look up. I was now under the impression that I was being followed so I scarfed down my food and fled out the door. Heavy anxiety started to overwhelm me so I pulled out my Klonopin and swallowed three of them without water. Now every car that went past was yelling obscenities at me. A few even tried to drive up on the curb and run me over. I turned off on a side road where I saw a hospital. I was chanting,“I need mental help.” and thought the hospital would save me from my state. The hospital turned out to be closed and there was no one in sight.

After this let down, I saw a van in the parking lot, it had to be surveillance. I had been getting followed for weeks by plumbing vans and unmarked white vans. This was probably due to the fact that I was dealing cocaine on a regular basis. Luckily, I did not have any today. I got back on 1960 and walked about 2 miles then peered to my left. A church appeared and an eerie silence set in. The cars had all disappeared. I felt that I could get help now, the church was calling to me which did not make any sense with me being completely anti-Christian. I slowly walked across the deserted, ominous road. Silence and stillness was engulfing my surroundings. When I got to the church and tried the front door, it was locked to my disappointment. That instant, traffic and noise suddenly started again and a car pulled up. I looked over and asked the woman, “Is the church open?" She gazed up at me like I was the devil himself, quickly shook her head no and sped off. I yelled, "Well fuck you then!” as she drove away.

I started walking again. An hour and a half had passed and I was at the crossroad that went to my house. I still was not even close to halfway there so I started to call everyone again. Once again, no one answered. At this point, it was about 1:30pm and I was trudging through a muddy construction site with workers everywhere. It seemed like they were doing no work, just watching me. Just staring and sitting in their machines. Now, I for sure thought I was being watched because I had been too sloppy with my drug deals. I picked up the pace for a few more meters and sat down. My mind was frantic; the voices got faster and louder, yelling things like, “It’s over!" My heart raced as I called more people, still nothing. I got up and walked in front of the workers, straight through wet cement. I noticed what I had done and ran, thinking they would be upset but they continued to stare at me like robots.

My phone rang. My heart dropped as I frantically answered it. It was my "drug father” Rob. [Him and his girlfriend were in their fifties and were like parents. Rob acted as the middle man for sales and gave me spots to safely distribute. Rob had come to my hotel two nights before and smoked a little meth with me, all while warning me to get rid of it and that something bad was going to happen.] I answered, “Hey! What the fuck man, you set me up! I’m freaking the fuck out, walking down the street. I lost my job and my car is wrecked!" He replied, "Calm down, where are you? Do you need a ride?" I hung up. He had to be in on the investigation. Seconds later I received a customer call and I answered sharply. "What the hell is going on?!" It was Trouble, my buyer, a black guy with one leg. He kept asking where I was as I heard radio like noises clicking in and out of my cell phone. I refused to tell and gave all dummy answers. The line was bugged for sure.

By this time I was in a shopping center with a barbershop, a liquor store and a CVS pharmacy with a Chevron across the street. After I hung up the phone with Trouble I smoked another cigarette. I then walked into the barbershop and tried to look normal. (Why I went in the barbershop, I have no idea…) The big screen T.V. in the middle of the room said, "There is a disoriented man in his twenties walking down the road in traffic. If you see this man, inform the authorities immediately." Everyone’s head turned to me as the channel described me to a T. I threw my sunglasses on and got the fuck out of there. I took out my phone, called Trouble back and said, "You know where I am mother fucker! Come and get me!" Trouble simply said OK and hung up. He didn’t even have to ask where…

I had walked to CVS and was sitting in the parking lot after seeing a sign with a picture of my sunglasses (they were very distinct Black Flys) posted on the door. The sign said, ‘Wanted: The man in these glasses.' A strange child kept skateboarding past me as I sat there plotting my next move. I called Mule and he finally answered. I yelled, "Where the fuck have you been man, I lost my job and have been walking for hours!" His voice suspiciously changed and I could hear his parents and girlfriend in the background. He is never around his parents. In the weird, fake sounding tone, he tried to get my location like all the others. The clicks on the line continued. Pam even got on the phone and tried. I said, "Quit playing games, you know exactly where I am, at a CVS on Kuykendahl. Then I described the actual people around me in detail like it mattered. I thought they were watching me so I said louder than usual that they were creeping pieces of shit that deserve nothing but my hatred. They looked at me disgusted and shocked then left. The plumbing van that had been following me for days also left out of the Chevron parking lot. Mule said he was on his way.

I sat down, hanging my head, thinking the cops were going to pick me up. I just zoned out and kept a firm scowl on my face while I smoked. I tried to call Trouble but no one answered. I called Mule again and said "Where the fuck are you?" He said, "Just hold on we’re almost there." I said, "We?" He hung up, I started pacing and he pulled up. It was just him and Pam so I felt a miniscule amount of relief. Pam handed me a Lipton iced tea and said, "What are you on?" I said, "Nothing but the shit in this bottle." Thinking there was a Rohypnol or something in it. I drank almost all of it just to take the edge of the meth. No feeling at all. Mule started talking strange, almost sarcastically, asking where I wanted to go. He kept asking, I kept telling him I didn’t have a choice. I was infuriated, saying he had turned me in. He asked, "For what?” as he reached to press a button on his hip. I was silent. He then said, “I guess we’ll go to the Mexican restaurant. Do you think we should go to the Mexican restaurant, Pam?" She said, "Yes, lets go to the Mexican restaurant." I picked up on them and said, "Quit the bullshit codes and tell me what the fuck is going on, you pieces of shit!" They said nothing and pulled into the restaurant.

I timidly got out long after they did and scanned my peripheral vision as I made my way to the door. Nothing happened, we just got seated by the waiter. I sat down in the booth feeling like a prisoner being transported as I heard the whole restaurant gossiping about my demise. I took the $1,200 out of my pocket and gave it to Mule. I told him someone would kill me if I held onto it. At that point my mother texted me, 'Are you OK?' I looked at the message then looked up - it was Trouble and an unknown white guy that looked like he had a gun holstered on his side. My heart skipped a beat and began racing faster. Trouble sat down beside me, put his arm around me and said, "What’s up buddy?" I said, "How the hell did you find me?” while I moved to get him off of me. The guy with the gun continued to stand. I asked Trouble, “What exactly do you want from me?" (This was one of the reasons I handed my money to Mule.) He said nothing. He never introduced the stranger with the gun.

I got on my phone and called my girlfriend, Sandy. I said, "How could you do this to me?" thinking she was now hiring people to kill me. She replied with an angry but concerned voice, "What the fuck are you talking about?" I hung up thinking the call was being tracked and texted my mother. At this time I had accepted my fate of being murdered and things moved in slow motion. I texted, 'I am about to be killed.’ and my phone died. I looked in front of me and a margarita sat there so I chugged it and threw $70 at Pam for the bill when she said, "Hey, that’s expensive!" I told her, "Shut up, you’re not about to get shot." I looked over at Trouble, ready to die and said, "So are you going to do this or what?" He said, "I’ll let you choose. Will you come with me or go with them?" I paused while twitching my eyes back and forth between them. I hesitantly said as if my life depended on it, "I’ll stay with them, I am not following "Trouble”.“ Trouble calmly said, "OK.” and left with his henchman. I had been spared.

About 15 minutes later we got ready to leave the restaurant. I scanned every detail when I got up making sure no one was about to shoot and the coast was clear to the car. Mule got in the driver’s seat and Pam in the passenger’s seat. The started to head north on the highway. We had passed my hotel that I was living in and my parent’s house. I said, “Where are you taking me?" Mule said, "We’re going to my house, my parents are in Galveston." I looked to my left and saw his parents in the Chevy next to us and waved at them because I knew Mule was lying. Mule sped up when he noticed I saw them and exited the highway. He pulled into a place called Mr. Smokes to get some blunt wraps. Pam stayed in the car with me. I asked her, "I am not getting out of this, am I?" She acted like I wasn’t even there. I tried to use my phone, it was nowhere in sight and dead anyway.

I said nothing when we continued to Mule’s while I chained smoked out the back window. When we arrived, I emptied my pockets on the counter like I was going to jail. There was a Lincoln Navigator outside that had to be the police waiting to see if they could get an assault charge on me as well as selling drugs. After all, Mule’s tone of voice was just asking for a punch in the face. I regrouped myself because of the SUV, though voices were coming from all direction now. They were as if a surveillance team was upstairs. I thought of Sandy and the tattoo she had done on my left arm. I thought she had implanted a device in me with the ink so I put my ear on it, trying to hear the voices better. No luck, so obviously it was just a shitty tattoo.

I joined Mule and Pam as they smoked a blunt in the backyard. I lit up a cigarette, since I don’t smoke weed, and said, "So what are my options?" Pam said, "You could either stay here or get your parents to come get you." I told her that I would have my parents get me since they were the only ones I could trust. I got a phone from Mule and called my mom, talking like a schizophrenic madman. She worryingly asked, "Where are you? Please tell me." I told her and hung up. I then told Mule to give me my money. He said, "What money?" I somehow got his mother on the phone and was cussing her out saying that her son stole my money. I told him he was going to pay the next time I saw him since there was nothing I could do to him with this Navigator outside. While I waited for my parents, one of my customers named Anton came down from upstairs. He had to have been part of the surveillance team. I asked, "Who the hell are you?" He replied, "I’m Anton from Huntsville. I know it’s tough, dude." I said, "No, tell me your real name!" He replied with the same answer. I shook my head and walked outside looking for the Navigator. It was gone.

Soon after I went outside, my parents pulled up. They had come to take me to the emergency room. They diagnosed me with psychosis after a few interviews and I was committed to Tomball Mental Hospital. I stayed there for 10 days then got on a plane to a wilderness rehab in Colorado where I continued detoxing from multiple drugs. The voices subsided within 2 days on Monday, June 23rd.

© WLM 2012