I looked out at the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean and thought, “No fog tonight, I wonder why?” Standing on my balcony I shifted my gaze to the nearly two-lane road that ran along the beach between my converted motel studio and the beach. I could understand why the road was called the “Strand” there wasn’t much to it.
As I was gazing a car was driving rather quickly toward me from the north. I couldn’t make it out, but I had a sinking feeling, an unmarked cop car! There was no time I needed to get my stash into the hiding place I had created in my closet. Grabbing what was left of the “8-ball” off the table, I sealed the baggie then ran for the closet. Once there I pried off the base board which exposed the slot I had cut in the drywall. It was about 2” high and 10” long. I shoved the baggie full of speed into it and quickly replaced the molding. Unless they had a drug dog with them I was safe. I bet it was just another roust.
There had been many before this and with good reason. Out of the 18 or so apartments that were occupied at least 6 or 7 were drug dealers of one kind or another. There was Heap, who’s real name was Leon, I think. He dealt this new stuff. Cocaine cooked into smokable crystals, I heard it called ‘crack’. Dude, I didn’t know his real name, he had dealt pot. Not the street kind but wicked stuff that was laced with opioids. Not my thing so I stayed away from it, but he seemed like a good guy. Then there was that couple down in number 3, they were into pills. I was at a party there one night and they had a bowl that looked like Skittles, lots of colors and the ones I tried were killer. The other dealers I did not know but I knew they were there, just like they knew I dealt ‘crank’.
The car pulled into the court below. Two guys and one woman got out. They looked like they had just gotten out of a disco. Loud shirts, top 3 buttons undone with chains of gold and silver. Tight flared pants. No doubt undercover cops. Who else dressed like that coming to ‘Beach House’. That was the name of this dive I lived in.
One of the guys looked up at me and pointed his index finger like a gun, cocked his thumb and fired. I smiled, no sniffing dogs. It was going to be a fun time. He and the woman came up the stairs toward me and as they did he said, “I bet you are the ‘crank’ guy, right? Front apartment, if that hole you live in can be called that. Second floor.” I smiled politely and said, “I do live in that ‘hole’, but I am not a mechanic, so I know nothing about cranks.” With that he and the woman laughed. “Nice, John, very smart and nice.” That took me back, he knew my name. Now I was scared, this roust was different. Normally just a breeze through and warnings all around. What did these dudes want? As they arrive at my front door, I opened it and was handed a search warrant. I could see below two more cars had pulled in, one was a K9 unit. My heart sank. All I could think is, “Life on the edge is not all its cracked up to be.” They began to upturn my meager belongings.
For many years, I lived a life on the edge. Never really ‘legal’. Most of the time I was on the run for one reason or another. Looking back, it does not take a genius to see where almost all my problems stemmed from. If you are involved in illegal substances, your life goes from one crisis to the next. The hardest thing is you never know who you can trust. Just one person can point a finger at you and the next thing you know, someone is tossing your apartment. Addictions ruin lives, in all ways. Physically, socially, financially and spiritually. When I was living the life of an addict, I was sure there would never be a way out. But I was wrong!
Today, I woke up thinking about the hopelessness of addiction. I just wanted to tell those who are living that life. Whatever and however it is. There is hope. For some it comes in the form of Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous. A local chapter is close just type in either name in a search engine and find a meeting. There is also a SAMHSA hotline, 800-662-HELP. 24/7 and 365 days a year. These folks are confidential and will get you in touch with a local service to help. No matter how, if you are reading this reach out. I lived that life on the edge and even if you seem to be living a normal life, if drugs or alcohol control you in any way, that is not normal, and it is not healthy. It will destroy you and those you love. And one more thing.
All these services are awesome and there are so many more available. But there is one thing you can do right now, try this prayer:
“Dear Father, please meet me in my loneliness, help me to have the confidence to speak with someone about my addiction. I trust that you can lead me out of this prison, that you can heal my mind and body.
I long to be free, yet I still feel so trapped by my thoughts and fears. Cover me with your love and grace, until, with your help Lord, I can walk in freedom, break out and fully live again. Amen.
He is waiting to help you and save you from hopelessness. Over 10 years ago I prayed this prayer, and by his grace for nearly 8 years I have been free.
Back in that Oceanside, California apartment. I felt anything but free. I knew that soon the drugs I had hidden in the closet would be found. But for some reason the drug dog never appeared. The two cops tossed everything I owned onto the floor and then as they were leaving, the man came close to me and said, “Free advice. We have someone who has given you and the rest of these scumbags up. I know your dealing, but today we have bigger fish to fry. We will be back soon. Maybe you should move to, Del Mar or Escondido!” Then he patted me on the cheek. Even as afraid as I was I did not move, nor did I stop using or dealing. Only by the grace of God, am I here today. Join me, be free. Like I said before, “Life on the edge is not all it is cracked up to be. And life without hope is no life at all.”
Blessings and Happy Sabbath,
John
9/7/18
