In the depths of despair, a sobbing, snotty, wailing mess. I cried out to the Universe:
"Please take this from me!"
I was in the midst of a horrid come-down. I was deep in my "Tee-motions," as I used to call them.
I could have won the Oscar for this one. I had thrown myself on the floor, face buried into the carpet, pounding my fists like a child throwing a tantrum.
I was surrounded by the contents of every drawer in my bedroom, the closet had been rummaged through, and the smoke detector dangled from the ceiling.
The man whom I swore I had fallen in love with had gone into psychosis while I slept. He was convinced that I was a part of a conspiracy to frame him for murder.
So, he had emptied and rifled through every drawer, shelf, and box. He had even taken my pictures out of their frames.
(The whole story will be in my upcoming book, but he almost killed me that night.)
He was gone now. And so were the drugs.
I had nothing left but to feel the effects of my brain and body desperately trying to achieve emotional balance.
I was spiraling.
I had no one left to turn to but God. Whatever that even meant. I was desperately seeking some kind of help or divine intervention.
I raised up on my knees and put my hands together in prayer.
"Please. I'm begging you to take this from me."
This was one of those rare occasions when my mind was open to hearing. Just then, a tiny whisper vaporized into my awareness.
"I can't take what you won't let go."
Heavenly mic drop.
I began to wail. Loud.
I clenched my fists and screamed as loud and as long as I could.
The realization that I wasn't ready to let meth go, that all of this was my own fault, that there was a war waging inside me that I couldn't control; it was too much for my system to manage.
I blew a neural circuit, you could say.
That incident was the beginning of my Letting Go journey. Even though in the days leading up to it, I contracted HIV and also injected for the first time.
Soon after, I dove into my meth use even deeper, but that whisper remained somewhere in the recesses of my conscioussness.
That whisper remained persistent until I eventually leaned in and embodied the message.
Are you holding on to meth? What will it take to let go?
I've discovered on this journey we're sharing that letting go isn't about losing anything. It's about creating space for who you're becoming.
I help gay men break free from the addictive patterns of chemsex (Tina) and become their best and highest selves. My 1:1 coaching, Recovery Alchemy, is a six-month, intense program that can literally change your life. I accept 2 new clients per month. Apply Here.
Three Sacred Truths About Release and Renewal
