The Longest Day: Downward Spiral of Addiction

 

Readers who follow this blog and have read all the posts are surely aware of one very noticeable characteristic here: there isn’t any semblance of a system in the writing of the posts here. Sometimes there might be some sort of a sequence where one post is a logical continuation of the previous. But often – and I know to the annoyance of many readers – you simply don’t know and can’t predict what the next post will be about or when it will come out.

If it’s of any comfort to the reader, I don’t know either. I don’t have any timetable or even clear objectives when it comes to this blog and there certainly isn’t any kind of “To do” list of things that I am going to write about.  But I do know why I had started this blog in the first place. No, it’s not with the noble intention “to help others”, although I’m happy to note that it had indeed been of use to some readers. Rather, my original intention, which still remains until now, is this: I simply must write about this for my own sake. This is something which I had learned from Narcotics Anonymous: We need to look back at the past, see things as what and how they were and accept them. Only then could we live in the present and move on.

Seeing and accepting the past for what it is… and letting go

Many will acknowledge that doing so is indeed therapeutic and it works not just with recovering addicts but also with `normal’ people who are bogged down with various personal problems and carrying the burden of past guilts, slights, grudges and “If only” and “what-might-have-been”. “You must let go of the past… ”, says the wise but it’s not something that’s easy to do. Unfortunately, there is no other way and we have a choice here: continue to carry the burdens and live with the monkey on our backs in the form of the miseries, shame and dissatisfactions that inevitably affect the quality of our day-to-day living, OR move on.

If you have read all the posts here – plus my replies, some of which could be new posts by themselves – you might feel that I have already written “ a lot”. Would you believe that there’s a lot more… that I had written only 10 percent (if that) of what I know I should write about. This is not being narcissistic, that is in having an inflated idea of one’s perceived importance. Rather, the things that I have yet to write are not actually “about me” but a combination and mixture of personal experiences that are intertwined with the people whom I have known over my life so far. There are so many events in life – the “small” ones especially – which seemed insignificant when they happened… a passing remark by someone, a person’s response to an incident, something which I expected to happen but didn’t or vice versa etc. – nothing earth-shaking but “just everyday things.”  But upon reflection and with the benefit of hindsight and new experiences years later, these small incidents add up and help to provide new insights concerning this all-important matter that is “Life”.

The posts here: there are a lot of gaps. There is one very critical period of my life which I had not really delved into so far – the period of my relapse from 1993, which was the start of the downward spiral and the inevitable collapse and almost total destruction of my life that mercifully ended with the magistrate court’s order on 31 October 2005 to undergo compulsory treatment and rehabilitation for two years at Pusat Serenti Gambang (plus another two years of supervision by the AADK upon release).

A lot had happened during this period but I have yet to write much about it. I know very well the reason for this: cowardice… the fear and uneasiness of facing the shame, embarrassment and guilt of knowing that I had failed myself and those closest… especially the innocents – my children. This was the greatest torment of all; the biggest source of self-loathing and hatred of my own self.

1993 to 2005: it’s somewhat difficult to conceptualise; to really feel the passage of time that passed. Merely writing “12 years” just doesn’t leave much of an impact in the mind as to the length of time that went by; of the 365 days of a year… and another, and another…

1993………………………………………………………………………..
1994………………………………………………………………………..
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2000………………………………………………………………………..
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2002………………………………………………………………………..
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2004………………………………………………………………………..
2005………………………………………………………………………..

No one starts taking drugs (AND alcohol too for that matter) with the intention of becoming an addict: it is always “to experience what it’s about”… “to just have a good time”. And certainly no one sets out to destroy his life; to lose everything that he has, including his self-worth. But it will happen when you set out on the spiral descent of addiction and when there’s no intervention to check the fall, to have the will and resources to change direction and to climb that (very) steep slope of recovery.

The addiction works in an insidious way – you simply don’t know that you are getting addicted! No alarm bell goes off; there isn’t any clear indication of the change because it is such a cunning and subtle evil. Different people may have different opinions of this but with me, the physical addiction with heroin and morphine is after three consecutive days of usage.

Given this fact, the layman might be led to conclude: “So don’t take it for three days then. Stop at two and things will be okay…” Actually, that was my thinking too, plus that of many others: this self-deluding “control your usage” which leads to a full-blown relapse again and again. From my own experience, which is verified by honest discussions with various inmates, and through observation, the truth is this: you simply can’t control using drugs – it’s drugs that will control you.  And regardless of how many consecutive days it may take for an individual to be physically addicted, it takes JUST ONE usage to be mentally addicted.

That was how I first got addicted when in Form 5 in 1976, and that was how it happened again in 1993 – the “Just this once” euphoric feeling immediately changed the mental state from “everyday normal” to wanting to be in a pleasurable state all the time; to `cheat life’ by not having to feel the boredom and drudgery which everyone has to go thorough occasionally. The stage is set for a continuation of the “Just this once”, again and again looking for that euphoria which would never come again. In this quest to seek that elusive euphoria, the physical and mental addictions grow ever stronger. And then one day – days, weeks, months or whatever -you finally acknowledge that you are addicted.

You’d try to stop by undergoing cold turkey – “Seven days clean should do it”. It should… except that you will also discover the harsh fact that you don’t have enough will and strength to voluntarily undergo the 24/7 pain and torment brought about by a narcotics withdrawal. With the body in agony, with no lying down or sitting position being `right’, and not being able to get any temporary respite through sleep, the mind torments you with this choice: “Continue with this for yet another few days to be clean and undergo yet more torture, OR bring all the pain and torment to an immediate end?” You also know that all it takes is just a dose and all the pain and torment will miraculously disappear within 10 seconds. Guess which an addict in that state would voluntarily choose 99% of the time?

And so it went for me; the days of being addicted turned to weeks, then months and then years. Along the way, life gradually took a turn for the worse, bit by bit until it went beyond repair and collapsed. As with a wooden house, it doesn’t come down just like that due to a storm. Neglect weakened the structure, and then came termites. Something could still have been done to mitigate the situation but it would have required effort and resources, which could only come about through a strong will and various support to do so. But when nothing substantial was done, the house the house inevitably deteriorated until it reached a tipping point. And then came the collapse.

If I have to pinpoint when my collapse was, I would mark it at 1999. That was the year when my previous marriage essentially ended and life was just a series of unending hostility and bitterness. That was also when I was practically unemployed, without anything and was all alone. The worst part was the hopelessness – during that time and in that state, there was nothing I could do to even try to improve my situation. And I had no one to turn to. Life was just a continuation of one dreary day to the next; of living a life where there wasn’t any hope or anything to look forward to – 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005… 

I don’t know how I had managed to survive, to go through all those years of emptiness and loneliness. But go through I did, simply because God didn’t want take away my life just yet and I still had a sliver of akidah left so as not to commit the ultimate wrong against my own self. There were times when I was in total despair – if there was a way to give away my life to anyone, I gladly would. I didn’t see any point in living my life – there was NOTHING left in it or to hope for and that its continuation “was just a punishment from God; that the remainder of my life will comprise solely of misery and drudgery.” I was wrong, of course, and I started to see a bit of His Powers on 7 November 2005 when I arrived at Pusat Serenti Gambang; of His Signs and the opportunities He had Created for me to do something about my life, beginning with ME. That was the greatest gift of all and things gradually changed – so much beyond what I had even dared to fantasize during those depths of despair.

But I have gotten ahead of myself, going yet again to revisit those happy days at Gambang. The tipping point and collapse in 1999: like a house, it didn’t happen just like that. “Things happened” along the way – from that fateful decision that began with the relapse and the downward spiral which went unmitigated. I just hope I will have the courage to look back at it and write it here so that I will be free…  

The Power of God – A Dedication to All the Wonderful People

Monday 31 October 2005 – a day before Deepavali and three days before Hari Raya Aidilfitri: this was easily the worst day of my life. It was the day when Life fully mangled, crushed and spat me out. It was a day of bitter disappointment, hopelessness and total despair; of feeling that God had abandoned me.

After three months at the harsh and abusive prison of Pengkalan Chepa, it turned out that my incarceration was far from over as I had fervently prayed for, each and every day, for no less than five times a day during that holy month of Ramadan. Unlike the four others who were with me on that day, I had also made the effort to fast the whole of that month. And, unlike them who were already planning to shoot up drugs again should they be released “just for the heck of it”, I had no such thoughts. I honestly and sincerely felt I had done “all the right things”, the best that I could. I only wanted to be released; to go home and see my children. Was that too much to ask from God??

But yet, while all the others were granted supervision and immediately released, I was issued the order to undergo compulsory treatment and rehabilitation for two years at a Pusat Serenti! I was shocked by `the injustice’ of it all: How could this be?! How could God have granted the others their immediate freedom while I – `the most deserving’ – have to undergo more of this ordeal?!

“The reason, fool, is because He Wants to give you more than the pathetic crumbs that you had asked for – A LOT MORE!”

That was one of my misconceptions then, which came about through ignorance and stubbornness: I had inadvertently led myself to ask from God what I specifically wanted instead of what God Knows is best for me. And the things that I had asked for at that time were indeed crumbs: “To be granted supervision” by the magistrate, and `freedom’… being able to walk out from the court’s lockup, to go home and being able to smoke freely whenever I wanted to; to have enough to eat and drink, to have some privacy and to read. These are the simple-minded and unambitious wishes and desires of those who find themselves in lockups and prisons. And what then?

I have often wondered how things would have turned out for me had I actually gotten what I had specifically wished for – being released on 31 Oct 2005 instead of being sent to that glorious place of Pusat Serenti Gambang. There would have been elation, relief and excitement, that’s for sure. And I saw it on the faces of the other `lucky four’. But these would have been for an extremely short time. At least for me. In reality, there was practically nothing left for me then and this much-vaunted and desired `freedom’ was limited to just all those desires mentioned above.

My life, situation and circumstances then – they were pathetic, dreary and dreadful. On 31 October 2005, all I had at that time was all of RM1 (would have been enough to pay the 70 sen bus fare `home’). From having relatively good and secure jobs and with some status in society, I was unemployed, shunned and scorned. Although I had a wife, the marriage had essentially crumbled some years before and all that remained was anger, resentment and bitterness. I was also estranged and cut off from my elderly parents and sisters. I was all alone; abandoned, unwanted… But worst of all was the feeling inside – the self-loathing and hatred of having failed my children; of them suffering through no fault of theirs. This was something that had deeply tormented me.

What would have that `freedom’ led to? “I will slowly and patiently claw my way up again, make amends for all the wrongs that I had done and create a better future…” That’s the hope and dream of every addict including me. Often, it’s a short-lived fantasy, as had happened to me and so many others. How could it be otherwise when all or most of the factors and ingredients were the same? And especially when one isn’t much different from that of previously, as I also was (or wasn’t)? Faced with these, the previously determined addict – in facing the various obstacles, the unchanged environment, and negative situations which include unsupportive families and toxic members of society – would inevitably be frustrated and discouraged. “To hell with it all!”, and the vicious cycle starts all over again.

Only God, as always, can change this. AND MORE. With me, it was in Allah Mercifully Granting me a whole lot more than what I had asked for: the freedom that He Gave came in the outwardly form of `incarceration.’ It was during that journey while handcuffed in a police van, and the generative stay at Gambang that had started and brought it all. Everything had started from there…

And Allah had also granted to me “the gift of people” – of those who had come into my life and given me so much in various ways. At Gambang, I managed to reconcile with my parents, and then my sisters.  This one is critical; the blessings and support of your parents especially. Then there was David, whose contributions and support when I was at Gambang and after have been enormous (I can write a few posts specifically on him alone – and I do wish to. However, I have to respect his request for privacy) …

…The various people who appeared at crucial moments, like Rahim Pendamai who had given a talk at Gambang during my very early days there, which encouraged and gave me hope that “Perhaps, there might be some future for me…” — ArahMan7: can we dismiss as `coincidence’ that I should find his blog on the very same day I started mine; and whose own often similar accounts and experiences have heartened and encouraged me as Rahim Pendamai did? … Rocky Bru: whose post about this blog during its infancy, besides encouraging me further, had also resulted in me getting to know many of the readers here.

Sheila Rahman: People who work/had worked in the media will definitely know her. Sheila gave me the chance to write again, and with it came the confidence (and some useful money) that I could make a real living out of writing. No less important, she was not just someone whom I worked with but who had also given me the hope and courage to start again with my children. Elviza: The popular, multi-lingual writer and columnist – her encouragement and help were priceless. And her visit during Raya Aidilfitri at my previous wife’s house in Pasir Mas plus gifts – she elevated my stature among the people there. (Some might be confused with all of this, but please just bear with it).

And Sherry Nor Jannah: the person who had started it all for me, directly and indirectly, in so many important things; and her wonderful husband, Nazmi for his trust and support. Although I have mentioned it a number of times previously, I simply can’t say enough about them. It was through their help, encouragement and guidance that I made that critical move; of finding the desire and confidence to re-enter society and to try claw my way back again. Many of my colleagues at Gambang had gone down the road again, going back to the vicious cycle and undergoing that dreary existence yet again – did they have people like Sherry and Nazmi to guide and encourage them?…How Allah had Blessed me!

And the person who took me to another level – in fact to levels I had not ever been before… not even “during my prime”. God Bless the day of 1 April 2010 when Dr Aniza Zain Ahmed was curious enough to investigate one weirdo whose comments at Rocky’s Bru had intrigued her (and whose pen-name also coincides with one of her products) … my best friend who is now my wife and the best step-mother anyone could ever hope for. But don’t take my word for it – ask my children:-)

Actually, it is because of her that this post came about. After so many months of this blog being dormant, I simply have to write today, jumbled as the contents are. I have been busy with quite a number of things during this period but today I’m faced with something that was once the norm – loneliness. I had sent Aniza to KLIA for her flight to London yesterday morning, and it didn’t take long – that feeling came even before I had reached the Sepang toll booth. It was so odd going out to a restaurant near her house in Kota Damansara; this being alone. A lot of things came to my mind, and I simply have to write something to try and get my bearings again.

I had thought I “was okay with being alone, for I had been so for YEARS.” I was wrong. Yes, maybe I was used to it once. But that was before I came to Batang Kali on 25 May 2010… “Before Aniza”. How massive this wonderful woman has been for me and my children! And to my friends too (Sherry, Elviza and Faten have met her).

All these jumbled thoughts in my mind the whole day! But they are connected and intertwined – that day of Monday 31 October 2005 and Monday 16 January 2012. Five years have passed but so many things have changed – for the better. The people, things, situations, circumstances… Ya Allah: Syukur for giving someone who was crushed and defeated what he has right now.

[My wife and her sister arrived safely at Heathrow at around midnight Malaysian time to join another sister there – one reason why I was staying up. Hoping they will have a good time there for they deserve everything that is good in life. And I’m not saying this just because she’s my wife and they are my sisters-in-law. It’s just that… they have been great to me. Syukur for yet another blessing from Allah.]