Chapter 7: The Spring of 2017

It was in 2017 that everything would change. I discovered that the winter sun arched low enough in the sky to allow its light to stream gently into my living room and directly onto my couch.

As I was a severe recluse, on the weekends, I would get high, listen to the radio, and lie on my couch in the warm winter sun. I really enjoyed this; it felt better than alcohol, better than marijuana, pizza, and movies, and better than headphones and a dark room.

These autumn and winter months were honestly some of the happiest periods of my life. I remember thinking that I would never have the time to be this selfish again in my life; I didn’t have any responsibilities, and my time was my own. I fell in love with the radio, the Saturday Top 40 playing, the gentle sunlight, everything. And even when it wasn’t sunny, as the Cape storms would often howl outside, I was warm inside, with some Rooibos tea, and just a little bit high.

I was content in my happy little home.

It was during this slightly elevated state that I began noticing random things from the past resurfacing. As soon as I would relax, my mind plucked up the most random things, like my parents fighting above my crib, or my mother crying outside when I still lived in Malawi. Darker still, my worst secrets would reveal themselves and force me to remember them again.

Suppression no longer seemed possible.

It wasn’t all bad; sometimes, revelations would show themselves. Just like how my high school friend didn’t like me as much as I thought, or “Ah, now I see why this person models herself after a boy.”

I wasn’t consciously trying to think of these things; they just kind of presented themselves to me, and I observed them. Sometimes, a pattern emerged and I gained incredible insight, and other times, I curled into a tiny little ball, remembering some disgustingly horrendous thing I did.

So many things😒

Eight years on, and I must say, I am still surprised that my conscious mind thought I was ready to start digging in the backyard, because I was NOT in a good place overall. I had only just found a small patch of happiness, I was only just starting to tread water, and was almost immediately confronted with the unconscious.

It was as though my mind was clearing itself, dusting out the cobwebs, and I was apparently along for the ride. Every time I would get high and close my eyes, my mind would toddle into these deep caverns, poking and prodding at my deepest and darkest.

I had lost the ability to get high and escape reality, which sucked. Not only was I now confronting the unconscious, but my shitty conscious reality as well. This still included a botched hair transplant, a bad eye, and massive social anxiety, among some other things.

That wonderful door, which had allowed me to numb everything, was closing, but a new door had opened in its place. A backdoor.

I was edging closer, unaware that I was about to be pushed through it by none other than Jim Carrey.

Jim. Fucking. Carrey.

VOCATUS ATQUE NON VOCATUS DEUS ADERIT