I'm not sure why I feel compelled to write this. Maybe I am hoping someone else out there can tell me they have had a similar experience, so I can maybe understand what I am experiencing with a little more clarity? Let me just get the facts out. I was a meth user for many years, started with smoking it (around 2-3 years), but ended with injecting, spanning maybe another 2 years. I am now 2 years clean.
The way I got clean still mystifies me to this day. The details of the story are so long and intricate that I will not attempt to describe them all here, but the important events I will describe, though it is difficult to do so in short.
8 years ago I was introduced to someone, a man, who was at the time an acquaintance. We saw eachother a handful of times, this was around 2012-2013, then did not see each other until 2020 when I took a train out of state, at this point I was using, and we happened to run into each other again (after 8 years), and I was in such a fucked up, awful state, (IV meth doesn't do any good to the body/mind/soul, clearly), so he took me into his home and let me stay with him. We got together, began dating. He was not using, but had in the past, so he was coming from a place of compassion I suppose? The point is, I have absolutely no memory of any of these years of my life; at the time I was sleeping maybe once or twice a week for a few hours at best, and eating maybe once a day. It wasn't until the event happened that I "came back" so to speak.
Three months into living together something happened. We threw a birthday party for his little brother, lots of people were there, we rented a space, we came home, and a woman came back to our apartment with us from the party. We were living on the 3rd floor of an apartment building, and that morning I was on the balcony with the brother and the woman. I wanted a photo to be taken of me with some art I had made, and so I gave the woman my phone to take a picture of me. She told me to sit on my balcony, so I did, she then says, "Lay back down on the balcony", which I do. I am high on meth, mushrooms, and Xanax, so I am clearly extremely fucked up, and so of course I slip off the ledge and fall 3 stories, hit the concrete.
Not a scratch.
Somehow, not even a fucking scratch?
I'm taken to the hospital.... I'm fine...
But the weirdest part is this: The night before the party, my boyfriend drew Humpty Dumpty on his brothers foot, for no reason in particular. He was trying to wake him up off the couch so he drew on him, but Humpty Dumpty... who fell off the wall, correct?
Not only that, but that day someone had come over who I had never met. He was a friend of my boyfriends. Im talking with him in the kitchen, telling him that my life had been for a full year or so full of syncronicities every day, and to this he said to me, "You know what I think? I think you are going to die soon, or level up."
Next morning I feel 30 feet. Hit concrete. Absolutely fine.
I stopped injecting meth about a week after this incident. It was just too surreal. I still can't explain or understand it.
And now here I am, 2 years clean, still trying to figure out how to be a person again. I have no desire for meth anymore. But I do feel still unable to sort of normal human functioning, like what was I like before using? There is a big chunk of my life, years, when I was using, that I have no memory of, all I know of it are from photographs and videos and journals that I kept, and its freakish to look back on, it's like looking at someone else's life, but I know it was mine.... I just don't know how to feel about any of it.
Not sure if anyone will read this or be interested at all. But it feels good to put out. To end, I just want to say (if anyone is reading this), I hope you are well on your journey, whatever that may be. Blessings.