Oh what a great title, sometimes I just need to get that shit outta my system. I saw two teenagers walking to their car from the job site that I was working at today and as I observed them getting into their car It reminded me of high school and and how fun and adventurous it would be to ride around in my friend’s cars (I never had it together enough to ride in my own) especially if we had weed or booze or something to “do”. I imagined them going out to scam some chics or create some debauchery and what was cool was that it made me smile because I knew it was all good.
I started drinking when I was 17. My first beer was at my friend Michael Carruther’s house and I drank alcoholicly from the very beginning. One of the first times I drank I woke up with toilet paper taped to my chin and no recollection of what happened. I had blacked out standing up and passed out (I used to do that alot),and had hit my fathers spanish tile floor with my chin. I lived for the parties and I soon found Marijuana and I remember thinking with an uneasy feeling in my stomach, where have you been all my life? I remember buying the second bag of cocaine that I told myself I was going to sell and snorting it all except a little and the feeling that something else was in control. Yet I wanted more. I wanted to go further, and I did. My dreams of college faded a little as I was kicked out of school for selling pot. They never caught me with anything serious. I wanted more. I was going to do it my way. Lsd made me fall in love with other dimensions. I’ll never forget my friend Nate telling me that he remembered the night he watched me turn into an asshole. A couple of hits of brown blotter. It was speedy. After running away from my second guardian I was On my own I could do whatever I wanted so speed was next. The bathtub crank was very strong back then because the chemicals to make it were more readily available. I started scaring people. I scared myself a little. had been to juvenile hall and jail by now.I wanted more.
I wanted to be strung out on heroin with a cigarrette hanging unashed out of my mouth with nice clothes and a demeanor that said Im so fucked up I should be dead but Im not so what. My tools worked great. I got better at selling drugs. I hardened my heart. I met some friends who were on the same path. We were going to rule the world and we got to crawl in bed while everyone else was getting out of it to go to work, If we went to bed at all. I would stay up for days on end and wondered why I fell apart after day 5. I envied the cats who could stay up for weeks on end.Had the opportunity to learn how to shoot up the meth I was snorting and smoking but deep down told myself not yet.
My friend Rusty took me away from my Sacramento apartment. It was cocaine, pharmaceutical pills, and guns about that time. I got the last two from my chiropractor. I wanted the guns because I heard people talk about guns and drugs and how “bad” they were especially together so I wanted them both. Together. I remember telling him “But all my stuff is here.” He said “We’ll buy you new stuff.” Then it was nice houses in the Oakland Hills. Never mine. I never had it together enough. More drugs. Lots more. Good drugs. Gel tabs, liquid acid, Mdma, molecule, ecstasy of all types, 2,3,4 at a time. Morphine, valium became a new addiction. Hashish, expensive alcohol, better cocaine, mushrooms, more pharmaceuticals. Never sober. Almost always extremely fucked up. At least a few drugs being ingested at most times. Started to overdose periodically.
I will never forget the day I took the perfect amount of lsd in gel tab form. I was a mess. Yelling. Running in the house. Like a 5 year old on 10 red bulls. I remember my friend peggy saying “Buford needs a time out!” I went up to the roof to get some perspective( I was always climbing tall structures when I was that high and drunk) and thats exactly what I got. I was appreciating the beautiful surrounding hills of oakland and my new moonstone ring I had just bought from a custom jewelry maker who would make his rounds to that place to sell his goods. I actually picked out the stone and had him set it for me. I was in love with that ring. I was looking at how beautiful it was and how it shined and caught the light and the beautiful colors it contained. Everything was so beautiful. I had so much. I partied like a rockstar. I had friends who partied like me. I would work a few days of the month and party the rest. I partied while I worked. I had nice clothes, plenty of cash, lots of toys, all the drugs I wanted and I saw no end to it.
On top of all that, sitting there on that roof I felt in tune. I felt one with everything. I was the trees. I was the earth. I felt Love. Gratitude was pouring out of my heart. My mind was wide open and I truly believed anything was possible. I was feeling the true mystical magical mystery of it all. All I had to do was to feel. To feel good. It was all about how I was feeling right then. At that moment I shot out a whopping rocket of desire. I WANTED TO BE ABLE TO GET TO WHERE I WAS AT THAT MOMENT WITHOUT DRUGS. I loved drugs. I mean, I REALLY LOVED DRUGS. It was a new challenge. And I was just high enough that afternoon, and quiet enough up on that roof to have consciously been aware of it.
But not now. Now was time for more liquor. I had created a monster. It all had a mind of its own at that point. I knew this deep down. Was I scared. Yes. But I had been scared all my life. I now at least had medicine. More Meth. Drugs were my God. And Alcohol Is a Drug. That would have to do until I recieved a message that God wanted me back. I wanted More.
I found myself homeless. I looked at it more as inbetween homes. I was hard to handle and would get kicked out of alot of the places I went. Found friends from high school days and was introduced to phraternity life at Berkeley. I was In love. Sold them drugs. Moved in to the Frat house. ZBT. Jewish kids. More Cocaine. Alot more cocaine. Was saved from real prison time repeatedly in amazing ways. I thought I was “clever”. My friend at the time was a president of the fraternity and he let me move in after I promised to pay rent which I did once. I told myself this; “I’m tired of doing what everyone else wants me to do. I’m just going to get high.”
I wanted more. I wanted to see how far I could go. Thats what I wanted more than anything else. I moved into that room in the ZBT frat house, got a pet chinchilla, and smoked crystal meth. to keep busy I painted my room and sanded the floor. It was an amazing time. At points I felt so freaking amazing and so turned on tapped in and tuned in that I knew this couldn’t be wrong.
It was fun. Then It was fun with trouble. I started hurting people. I started hurting people badly. I remember a loved one telling me after a shocking confession I had made, “Your sick!”. I said the only thing I knew to say, “I Know”.
It’s funny to me right now because of the amount of suffering I was already experiencing at that point but I wanted more. I wanted to keep running. I wanted to see how far I could go.
Friends were getting busted. Friends were leaving the country with their drug money to escape the heat. My best friend came to tell me that one of our friends was a rat and to say goodbye. I remember how mad I was that he called me a “tweeker”. I asked him if there was anything I could do. He told me to keep my mouth shut.
I was alone then. And in debt. I fell off, I think(still not sure I didn’t push myself), the second story banister of the ZBT stairwell and almost broke my neck. No hospitalization. No doctor. More cocaine, Methamphetamine, Ketamine, Nitrous Oxide, Lsd and constant drinking if I didn’t have Speed.It was getting darker. Yes. Now it’s really dark. I can barely see.
Got kicked out of ZBT on Christmas Eve. It was hard to pay rent when I was so busy sanding the floor off my floor and smoking Crystal Meth. I remember on 9/11 I was so fucked up my friend called me in tears that we were being bombed and I told her to get some sleep. I didn’t believe her. I knew what I was doing. I was sanding my floor. It was around two weeks later that I had emerged from my room and was in my friend Blake’s room when I saw footage of the plane hitting the tower and flames explode from the tower. I asked Him what it was. He informed me that we had been bombed. I remember calling myself “The Devil” at that time I believe to inspire them to lower any expectations they might have of me, and to get just that much further.
I still had belief in duality at that time. If god were Light then I wanted the Devil because he was Dark. I was homeless again and lived with women who were sick enough to want me around. I remember the night I started hearing “voices” in my head. I believed I was reaching a stage of enlightenment, and was at that time truly losing my mind. Ufos(still not sure), FBI, (I was staying in a federal building) DEA(they were there but not after me) Illuminati, and everyone was out to get little old me.
Then came the time when I finally smoked just enough Crystal Meth. I was with two of the women that I was living off of at the same time and it was very uncomfortable for me that night. I was too high with not enough sleep. They mentioned that I should sleep probably for more than a few reasons.As I layed there in bed in that 8th floor of that government building on Caifornia and Van Ness visualizing unloading full clips of ammunition from an M-16 into the heads of all the people in my head who I thought were surrounding me on all sides I somehow fell asleep. I woke up refreshed and I don’t even remember getting high again I was still high from the night before.
I remember lying down on the floor. I think I got dizzy. Thats when things got interesting. I started hearing two sets of voices. The first consisted of people from my past. I mean from years back. The second seem to be a group of loving entities that were somehow guiding me through this. I would hear a voice from my past, I specifically remember Sherry Steinbrenner’s voice saying hello and then the other loving guiding voices would instruct me to say “I’m Sorry”. They wanted me to apologize to these voices one after the other and the funny thing is that after I did that voice would go away and a new one would appear for me to apologize to.
This went on for what seemed like hours. I was laughing at points(because some of it was funny), crying at points(because some of it was painful and sad) and every time I would make an amends My whole body would jerk. Im still not sure that that part of it wasn’t just part of a hiatal hernia attack. I remember my friend leaning over me and asking me if I was o.k. I told her “I don’t know”. This felt like it was supposed to happen.
My friend was leaving her house and my other friend was going back to the East Bay and I remember her asking me if I wanted to go or not. surprisingly I didnt. I felt wonderful. The fear was gone. everything had changed. they asked me where I was going to go and I told them I didn’t know.
I hit the streets of San Francisco broke and without a plan and I felt great. I didn’t know it but I was having a Satori experience. I felt as if i had finally reached that enlightenment I was getting so close to and as I walked around with no food or drink or rest or any spiritual practice to ground out what had happened to me I started having paranoid delusions on a grand scale. I walked around for three days. I took the ferry to Alameda. I was picked up for trying to take this bike that I thought my guides had left for me and was taken to jail. 4 hours on the cold floor and then released back into the night. I wanted it to end. I was suffering. I slept in the bushes that night very hungry. Woke up cold and hungry and terrified. Tried to walk back from Alameda to San Francisco without using a bridge. Found an official looking building and walked into it and was shortly thereafter picked up by the police again and then handed off to the paramedics. Off to the hospital and waking up to have the nurse tell me I was unresponsive as a response to me questioning why I was soaked with my own urine.
I believe after that experience and the things I saw and the realization that we were all connected and that my thoughts were actually affecting other people I wanted to come back. I wanted to come home. I deep down wanted to be off of the drugs and to be closer to God. The truth is that I didn’t see ant way that could happen. It seemed impossible and like it was just a dream.
I found myself homeless with a head full of confusion and so many more questions than answers. It seemed as if all my friends had abandoned me. They were just getting on with thier lives. I didn’t know how to do that. My father let me move in while I saved up money working in restaurants to move up to Lake Tahoe for another geographical cure. It was then that I saw my first UFO. What does it all mean? I was still trying to figure it all out.
I moved up to Tahoe to snowboard and ended up drinking alone in my room and trying not to smoke too much meth while working two jobs to support my habit. I remember looking for heroin because my usual medicine wasn’t working. At that point I was just trying to kill the pain. I wanted to come home. Back to the light. I felt like I was stuck in Hell.
I recieved a phone call from a close friend telling me “the boys” were looking for me. I cried with relief thinking that finally something made sense and that my prayers and spiritual work I had begun to do were paying off. Soon I was back in San Francisco and from there to Costa Rica where my buddies had settled to get away from the D.E.A. I was reading the Seth Speaks and getting the blueprint on how I was creating my reality while smoking crack cocaine and drinking with low dollar prostitutes. Where was I? Why does nothing make sense? Why am I in paradise and miserable as all hell.
I remember muling cocaine back from the states and not being able to hold the pellets in my bowels I felt forced to wash them off and swallow them again. As I looked at the mess in my hands it was very clear that something was very wrong. I didn’t know what it was. I just wanted back into the light. Darkness was getting old.
I got back into the states and told my girlfriend of sorts( I had no idea what loyalty was) that I had no idea what I was doing. It was as honest as I had been up to that point. She let me live with her for four years while I recovered from hard drug use and terrible back trauma. I still drank and smoked pot while working part time jobs to pay for my last two habits as I never did help out with rent or other expenses.
One day I was drinking and smoking weed while using a machete to do yardwork and almost cut my thumb off. I soon realized restaurant work was a thing of the past and got back into smuggling large amounts of marijuana from the northwest to the southwest. Money was good and health was bad and getting worse. I couldn’t keep on weight or digest my food. One Christmas eve I believe it was my friend i was smuggling with said he needed me for a job that entailed driving all the way back east and it paid 50,000. My stomach hurt badly as I lay on the floor telling him that it didn’t feel right because it was Christmas time and that I was ill.
There was a snitch riding with him on that trip who tipped off officials in the state of Oklahoma who in turn pulled him over with 3 million in cash and he is still in prison today. One more time I was saved somehow from serious prison time.
I was sick and broke and my girlfriend mentioned that I needed another job. I begrudgingly started looking and had my eyes on this fish store when one day that ever familiar friendly guidance from within said “Why don’t you just drop off an application to that bookstore?” I did so and was hired to my dismay and that ended up being one of the best things I ever did. My spiritual search for answers increased ten fold.
As my health continued to decline I started growing my own pot as it was the only thing that helped my severely imbalanced gut. I was losing weight and was tired and sick all the time. I wanted to be well again. Ididn’t know what the answers were but I searched diligently, constantly in between bong hits of my home grown pot. Law of attraction, meditation, The Sedona Method, the violet flame, Qi gong, and stacks and stacks of other books and techniques were surrounding me with what seemed like little to no avail.
I looked in the mirror one day very afraid and desperate and made sure I had tears in my eyes before I exclaimed; Help me! I finally asked for help. The next day a woman who approached the counter at the bookstore with amazing energy and I couldn’t stop crying hearing her clearing issues I was having that she had no other way of knowing I had unless she was gifted. I felt help had arrived. Upon seeing her my first time she told me that if I continued to put marijuana in my body I would be unable to feel my emotions and after hearing that I knew what I needed to do. I quit putting all mind altering drugs in my system that next day at 5 am on a tuesday morning. Besides one slip where I was harvesting my crop to sell when I ate some pot butter that i was making brownies with and truly had a mental meltdown that was the end of my pot use.
I continued to get counsel from this new friend and because she thought that there were parallels between me and my girlfriend’s relationship and her and this man that she wanted but didn’t want her she advised me that I was with the wrong woman. My head took that and ran with it. It was all too convenient to think that it was just because I was with the wrong woman that I was still so fucked up. It wasn’t long befor my girlfriend was asking me why I was distant and the only thing I knew to do was to be as honest as I could. The truth will set you free right? I told her what the psychic had said and she finally kicked me out. I was once again homeless and after being layed off from my part time job at the bookstore I had the inspiration to move back up to South Lake Tahoe for my second geographical cure to the same city. I harvested my weed and with her help 3 months later I relocated to Lake Tahoe once again.
I was here for three months trying to stop drinking and wondering why I could’nt when the Grace of god was imparted through my ex- girlfriend once more. She sent me some Audio cd’s from a Dr. Mccauley who was the naval flight surgeon who had instituted a recovery program for pilots with drinking problems with a 98 percent success rate. He talked about alcoholism and it being a medical condition. I remember asking her if she thought I was an alcoholic. I thought alcoholics were just people with no will power. I turned out to be very wrong.
At that point I was suicidal. I just wanted things to get better or to just die. Every day I woke up so depressed dying seemed like the only way out. I had been to the mental health department and they told me to Google stress relief techniques. I was already an expert. They had no idea. They gave me a card for the crisis-hotline and sent me on my way.
I tried joining a church, I tried joining a gym. They both helped to a certain degree and then came the day that found me with so much anxiety I was literally walking circles in my gym and the only thing left was to call the hotline and ask them where I could find a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. It was the only thing I hadn’t tried.
I went to my first meeting and did what they said. I went to meetings and didn’t drink in between. They said keep coming back and I would get better and I told them they didn’t understand. I remember sharing at a meeting about how suicidal I was and a kind lady took me to the hospital where I was put on different meds and afterwards she took me home with her where I was to stay for three weeks until I felt I was ok to be alone in my own home.
I will not lie the first year was pure hell. At 9 months my symptoms of ibs and hiatal hernia got worse and I was truly at a loss once again. I had put all of my spiritual studies aside to work the twelve steps and I rediscovered a book called Money and the Law of Attraction that was bought for me that first month that I decided to put away because I could’nt read. I finally could read again if I did so paragraph by paragraph very slowly. I got better. I got back into my studies. And finally, I found surrender. I didn’t understand why when I said “Thy will be done” I felt so much better. I do now.
I now have two years of sobriety and haven’t touched any mind altering chemicals except for my meds in as long. I celebrated my 2 year birthday two days ago on October 15th which is my sobriety date. I was able to quit my antidepressant medication three months ago and my new belief and feeling is that “it gets better the better it gets.” I believe that now because it really does.
I Feel that I have finally found my way back home to the sunlight of the spirit and that feeling continues to grow every single day. Words cannot describe the gratitude within my heart for the opportunity to live out this human experience today, and for the grace of Divinity that held me by the hand through the darkness the entire way back to the light that was always inside me the whole time. The richness of the contrast and the experiences that Ive been able to live through and the beautiful glistening gift that I call my life today is something that continues to blow my mind daily. I have once again come back to the truth that it is sincerely “all good”, and that it’s very, very nice to be back home.