My Intimate Moment with my Father
I’m a recovering crystal meth addict with one hell of a story to tell. The first 25 years of my life were dreadful. I wanted nothing more than to die some screwed-up death because the enemy had me convinced that my purpose had come and gone, like ashes on an empty street on a foggy day.
I discovered a once-a-month tradition that was perfect for what I was striving for. I called it, survival records. I would manipulate a doctor for a bottle of 60 20mg Adderalls, and see how quickly I could chew up every pill and survive. A once-a-month suicide attempt that I will admit is just too much fun. Crazy? Absolutely. I put up some crazy numbers.
One time I blew through all of them in around 12 hours, and then swallowed 20 Effexors in one gulp. I was found dead in a gutter. When I came to it, I was in an ambulance staring straight up at a bunch of EMTs looking at me. I was hooked up to all sorts of different medical machinery. I asked what was going on. Before he answered my question, he started talking to them. I got mad and asked again.
He said I had a seizure, a concussion, and a small fracture in my head. All that was on my mind was I had some different pills left at the house and I wanted to keep going. I demanded they pull over and let me go. That’s when they told me about the death part.
Quite honestly, I didn’t give a d*** whatsoever. All I wanted was more pills. I argued with those guys the whole ride there. I was just fine at first, but the next day, I ended up in the ICU for serotonin syndrome from those Effexors. Long story short, I was out of there within a few days.
This gambit continued into 2014, containing too many screwed-up stories, such as the one above, to tell in one testimony. Throughout the craziness, I would scream and yell at God demanding that He kill me. I would call Him names, obnoxiously express how much better meth and pills were than weed, and I even spent a formal half-hour session denouncing Him, telling Him to send me to hell. I did tell Him one time that if He gave me a moment where I knew for a fact, He was real, I would MAYBE give up crystal meth. God knew my desire for an epic story to be told, and I’ll skip to the one that was indeed the grand finale of all the evil I had built up inside me.
On July 19th, 2014, I chewed up 45 20mg Adderalls in 3 hours, and then I chewed up 4 grams of Methamphetamine in one gulp. I spent 2 days strapped up in the ICU put under with an anaesthetic used for surgeries. Off and on, the drugs would override that and send me into episodes of body spasms that were so fast, that my body looked like a giant blur. My skin turned a rich red, a shot of sweat in all directions all over the doctors who were dealing with me.
I would scream at them so fast; I sounded like I was speaking in tongues. My skin stretched outward around my eyes that were completely bloodshot, and blacked out with the pupils that were spinning around. My kidneys, liver, and everything down to the bone were completely failed and poisoned with speed. The next part is the face of the card, but let me say, that I cannot think of a more demonic experience that has happened with drugs. Amphetamines of all kinds are the devil’s drugs. Straight up.
Thanks to God’s everlasting grace, to me, all of that felt like 10 seconds of white flashes. When I woke up, I got a split-second overhead view of myself. My eyes were white as snow, and the brown could be seen. I was paralyzed from head to toe. I tried to talk, but I felt myself choking on a breathing tube.
I was convinced for a good 15 minutes or so that I would spend the rest of my life doing nothing but thinking and looking around. This sat with me. It gave me time to think. I remembered the overdose, so I was fully aware that I had brought it onto myself. Talk about feeling like a failure, I just started thinking about all the opportunities I had to get it right and do something but were gone thanks to my addiction.
A lot of “if only” statements came to mind. I thought about my family, what would they think when they saw me? Would they cry? I would go crazy if that were to happen, but luckily everybody was exempt from the whole thing. But still, I felt very vulnerable, scared, sad, and flat-out hopeless.
I remember one time I was living with a dope man. He had told me a story of a young man who had that drug for over 20 years and is now too far gone. That statement had applied to me. All of a sudden, alarms went off around my bed, and a huge team of doctors rushed to me from both sides. I felt myself starting to sink.
This next part is a moment so intimate; it brings me to tears at times. I felt a set of hands to grab onto. My spirit started to rise. My body was flat-lined, and I could hear the doctors giving up. In the flesh, I was dead, but in the spirit, I was fully alive and knew for a fact I would be just fine regardless. Those hands were the hands of Christ, and that moment we had together brings me to tears at times.
It was the most intimate experience of my life, much more intimate than any human could ever provide. When I got to the ceiling, with my body still flat-lined, my fingers twitched twice, and that split second, my eyes opened back up, and EVERYTHING in my body was completely back to normal. I was medically cleared to leave about a week later.
This experience proves beyond any reasonable doubt that there is indeed a Higher Power. To say I’m wrong is to call me a complete superhuman for pulling that off. But come on. Surviving that on my strength? People have to be either crazy or stupid to believe that.
I know that the Only Higher Power is our Almighty God, but as for now, proof of at least A Higher Power is enough for me to get started because God kept me alive for one hell of a mission to spread His Word and save many from eternal separation from God.
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