Five years ago after giving up meth there was a, sort of, what

you might call excitement at becoming my old self again. It was the self that had

been buried under my meth misuse. I no longer had dinner with friends, attended

church, or even went to parties. Being a meth addict made me quite the opposite

of my “old self”. I was isolated, I was paranoid and I made unsavory friends. Nothing

good was coming from my meth use.

There are always those pesky things one MUST do to stay away

from meth. One of those pesky rituals to getting off meth is by cutting off all

your meth connections. In essence for the guys like me, it means we have not a

single connection (no pun intended) to anyone because I was a meth addict and

that was the community in which I lived. I was asked to give up my home and

friends.

Ah, but I am a lucky one! I had a boyfriend holding my hand

who was going through the same thing. We were severing our friendships and our

love for meth.

The target of my obsession, meth, was gone. My friends were

gone. My entire social landscape was deleted in one fell swoop. I was dooming

all my friends to certain destruction while I saved myself. I saved myself by

huddling in the dark and in the safety of my home. I was saving myself as I

built my jail around me.

I am happy and content in my high rise tower of banishment.

There is a view after all!

I never actually stopped isolating myself and hiding from

meth. I got complacent in my sedentary life. I continued to live in fear of

myself and the decision I might make. I did not recognize this until this week.

I seem to have forgotten I am in a jail and inadvertently

and unexpectedly was “engaged” in life without fear and in the majority of my

adventures out and about I was tackled by crystal meth again. I met people who

used meth. I overheard conversations about meth. I saw uncountable social

marketing campaign bombarding me with admonishment for being a “bad” gay boy.

Yet either glamorizing or sexualizing the material. I passed a head shop full

of pipes, scales, baggies beckoning me from the window.

Beckon away, old friend I have made a choice to not let meth

use rule my life. I am not able to do it again. I look at what used to be my

playground and reflect on the lives and loves I left behind. I long for the strength

of that community but I am not one of them anymore.

I walked away.

I walked into a jail hiding out from meth. Fearful. I

confronted meth head on and realized that meth wasn’t confronting me. It was

just out there like a million other vices that are out there.

Meth wasn’t my enemy, I was the enemy.

I have paroled myself and I am released on good behavior. My

debt is paid by my guilty plea to you. I chose my prison and now I am choosing

my life. My freedom.