A normal person would have gotten help immediately, right then and there, or stopped cold turkey while it was still relatively early enough to safely do so. I wasn’t normal. I didn’t think I had a problem. If anything, I just merely chaulked it up to another weekly expense, like buying groceries or getting a haircut. I could afford it. What’s a few pills a day compared to how many I was moving? Plus, to be brutally honest, I didn’t want to stop. I absolutely LOVED how I felt on those pills. They made me feel like…well…fantastic. One pill crushed up…that’s all it took…sniff…wow…they made me feel warm all over, energetic, ready to take on the world, they gave me an overall sense of well being, almost euphoric…I was literally on cloud nine…24 hours a day…it was love at first sniff. When something makes me feel so fuckin’ good, why in the world would I ever want to quit? Not with my personality…I was like…I want MORE!
I thought the berries enhanced everything that I did. I never went anywhere and couldn’t do anything without them. It was almost like a fucked up version of those credit card ads… “Blueberries….Matty never leaves home without them.”
Say I was going to take a trip to the mall or head downtown for some shopping, I’d sniff a few pills to get nice and right to shop. Those pills really helped me spend…that’s for sure. When it was time to hit the gym, I’d down a few pills. I had this idiotic idea that pain pills could actually enhance my workouts. I thought that I wouldn’t be able to feel the burn, so I’d be able to bang out more reps. Mind you, at the time, I was also heavy on the steroids. Nice mix. Yes, I was a moron…I’m well aware. If I had a hot date or was going out with some friends, I’d sniff a few pills beforehand, while I was getting ready. Then I’d down a few more later on in the evening, with some cocktails of course. Yup, I was going to be the life of that party, that’s for sure. If my mother was having us all over her house for Sunday dinner, I’d take pills for that too…pills go great with Italian cooking…lol. Whether it be to see the dentist, the doctor, my tattoo artist, a haircut appointment, well…you get the idea…I was “blueberried up” at all times…sadly.
I was convinced that I didn’t have a problem of any kind. I was even more convinced that no one had a clue of what was going on. I’d show up in another new vehicle, have on another new watch, I’d switch apartments, have new clothes, yet I was unemployed. I was on drugs, thinking shit was sweet…I didn’t realize that addiction had truly taken over my life. I got deeper and deeper in the drug trade. I was addicted to both the pills and the money. I took so many pills and thought nothing of it. It all happened so fast. It’s like one day I’m taking half of a blueberry with a few cocktails and I’m Mr.Social, Matty from BB9, absolutely loving my life, and the next I’m taking pills just to get out of bed, so I can function throughout the upcoming day…and I STILL wouldn’t quit. Addiction is a motherfucker huh?
I thought I was making my great life even greater. I didn’t think I was hurting anyone. I especially wasn’t thinking about where all of those pills I was moving were going. To be honest, that was the LAST thing on my mind. I was more focused on me. It’s not like anyone knew…right…except the few I dealt with. I enjoyed those pills, I’ll admit it. I enjoyed every second of it. My plan was to save up enough dough to move out west. I kept setting the limit higher and higher every time I reached the goal. I didn’t want to quit…I kept telling myself I’d quit when I was ready. I was powerless to those lil’ guys…that’s for sure. I guess I wasn’t ready until 17 months later…cause that’s when I finally quit the life.
I was still mixing the now more than occasional party drug or two with the pills when I went out. Whether it be on vacation, a club, lounge, bar, home…any excuse to party. Now add in a whole boat load of alcohol…then take into consideration I was always on anabolic steroids to stay in shape so it wouldn’t appear as if I were on drugs. I had an image to uphold, remember? I was mildly delusional…as you can see. As I mentioned in the previous post…I only used to party on the weekends. Well… not at that point in my life. Everyday was Friday in my eyes. I wasn’t working. I was a reality TV star who just happened to be a drug trafficker.
I was in all out party mode for the better part of those 17 months. I thought I was a rock star. Shit…I think at the end I started to even look like one too…sadly. I’d sleep all day long. I’d hit the gym. I’d shop. I’d party at night. I’d take trips bi-weekly to FL to re-up on pills. Rinse, recycle, repeat. I’d take vacations as if I deserved it. I dated a few different women during this time period, but right now I don’t feel that my love life is really relevant to this…however I did mention that I had an addiction to toxic women, so I guess I gotta throw this in. I used to confuse jealousy, madness, and craziness with passion and love…the more crazy a woman was over me the more I thought she loved me…it turned me on….I think I just truly thrived on the attention. Don’t get me wrong…I was no angel either. I can say that during this time, with all my drug use and all that was going on with my double life… I probably wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend in the world…sure I made many mistakes, and I was an asshole at times (emotionally NOT physically) but it wasn’t ALL bad…c’mon even my friends call me lover boy…lol. Sure I have regrets, but who doesn’t…right? Every woman I’ve ever loved, I really wish them nothing but the best…that’s truth…besides if they had to deal with my nonsense and way of living…they deserve to be happy. Maybe I’ll go into details about my love life in another blog…or with my track record another several blogs… but for now back to the story…
All the partying, trips, drugs and whatnot may sound glamorous to some of you. It wasn’t. All the drugs, booze and steroids I put in my system really threw a dent in the plans. I had many hospital visits during that time…even while on vacation. To tell you the truth, it still boggles my mind to see how much the human body can really withstand. I’m surprised I am not dead…
From the day that I realized that I needed the pills to function, things only got worse. Maybe not financially, but definitely my physical and mental state for sure. As time went on, my tolerance built up. It no longer took me only a few pills to be on cloud nine, I had to take 5…then 10…then 15. I was now taking 15 a day to feel normal…just to not feel sick. Those withdrawals are fuckin’ brutal…let me tell you. Luckily, I usually always had them on hand, either around the house, or in my car, or wherever else I would stash them in case of emergency. There were a few times when I had to hop on a plane to FL on a moment’s notice because I had run out and the withdrawals started. I’d be on the plane…literally shaking cold then sweating…the person next to me would always look at me funny. Hey I felt like shit…I didn’t care… 3 hours from Boston and I’d feel like a champ again. Shit, I would have flown to friggin’ China to not feel sick…that’s the truth!
Now one would think that when I needed THAT many pills in order to function, and even more to feel the way I loved feeling, that I would quit, or at least get some professional help. Well, that wasn’t happening any time soon. I still enjoyed the pills…I just happened to need a lot per day. I loved that life. I loved the rush of the hustle, the rush of getting on a plane going to make money, the rush I felt as soon as I sniffed one. I knew I’d have to quit hustling if I truly wanted to quit. There would be none of that. I got used to living a certain way, I wasn’t going back to a regular life with a regular honest job. Besides, I wasn’t a drug addict, remember? Those pills were just a hobby of mine. Addicts are on corners asking for nickel rocks. Not me, I was living in a nice apartment, driving a new Lexus. I had money. I was no addict. NA meetings? I don’t need those…only crackheads need those…the shit I used to tell myself to rationalize my drug use…out of control…
Then things started to change. See, when I started out, I had the world by the balls. I thought I had it all…money, a little taste of fame, a great social life. Life was but a beach chair. But it wasn’t all fun and games. All the different shit I was putting in my system, along with all this money I had, turned me into a completely different person. I went from an outgoing, likable, respectful human being to a complete dickhead. Hey, I’ll admit it. I thought I was above everything and everyone. You couldn’t tell me shit. Everyone was on MY time…not the other way around. The more and more pills I took, the more lies I told. I’d be telling my poor mother, who just spent all day cooking dinner, that I was 5 minutes away…everyone would be waiting on me to eat. I was already late. She would go and make my plate for me…and all that…and in reality I was in FL boarding a plane…coming home from picking up pills. Five minutes my ass. I was a disgrace. That happened on more than one occasion. I was living such a double life. I thought nothing of it. It still sickens me now to think of how many times I chose drugs over friends and my family. Now as I’m typing this (I have email…FINALLY), I’d give ANYTHING to really be five minutes away for dinner at my moms.
Drugs really distorted my values and my views of the world. Before I was on these 30s, I’ve always been gainfully employed. I’ve always been pretty responsible in that department. I’ve always been a hard worker, and I’m proud to be able to say that. There’s NOTHING wrong with an honest day’s work. I even briefly had a job right after BB9…selling cars. I didn’t want to go back to construction after the show, so my boy Kevin hooked me up with a nice lil’ gig. I was pretty good at it…so I’m told. I was even better at first when I was on the blueberries. I could sell fire in hell on those things. Then as I started to really make money with them and really get addicted, I became really lax with work, which was so unlike me. I stopped caring. I was let go. I used to think, “who needs work when I can take a trip to FL and make a month’s salary in a few hours…” My way of thinking was definitely warped…that’s for sure.
My personality continued to change dramatically. I began to shut everyone out. I barely saw my friends. I always had some bogus excuse of why I wasn’t going out…some lie. I hardly even saw my parents. Any time I went over there, it was “hi…bye”…five minutes in and out. I had places to go, people to see. No time for anyone. I became very moody. On more than one occasion, I would lash out on a friend or a family member, for no reason at all…which was very out of character for me. The drugs were changing me…I just couldn’t see it. I was in my own little world. My emotions were up and down…like a rollercoaster. When the littlest thing would go wrong, it felt like the end of the world. I remember one night I misplaced my wallet. I hadn’t even been out, so I knew it had to be somewhere. I was on the phone with my aunt, literally crying over a lost wallet. In between my tears, I was sniffing pills…like that’s gonna solve anything. It was almost as if someone had died…it was crazy…all over a wallet…which I ended up finding the next morning…by the way. Those pills really fuck with your emotions. One minute I’d be so happy, ready to go out, up for anything, outgoing…then the next minute…boom! …I’d be utterly depressed, thinking life was over. Life was no beach chair…it was all rain and clouds. It was like that on a daily basis for me…up and down….STILL wouldn’t quit.
Regardless of how much money I had and how much I was making, my life was spiraling out of control. Nothing made me happy anymore. Some days, I had really wished that I was dead. It would be easier than dealing with life. I literally wanted to die…though I never tried anything crazy. I was just strait up depressed. I began to be reckless with my spending. I was living ridiculous. I spent foolishly. I tried to literally buy my happiness…nothing worked.
There were a few times where I half-assed tried to reach out to a few people, saying I needed help. One person had been through what I was going through, not too long before me. The other had a friend who died from what I was taking. But like I said, it was a half-ass attempt. I was vague. I didn’t want to admit I had a problem. Matthew McDonald is no fucking drug addict. I’m just depressed…that’s all. I still wasn’t ready to quit. I was in denial. I felt so alone. No one had a clue what was going on (I shut everyone out…remember). From the outside looking in, I had it made in the shade. I wasn’t working, I was pretty well off, but if you were to scratch the surface, you would’ve seen that I was broken. I was no longer myself. I couldn’t quit though. I couldn’t dare go through those withdrawals, and “hell no” to rehab…people would find out. I kept on sniffing!
I figured I was depressed cause I wasn’t employed…like I had all this free time to do absolutely nothing. So my cousin Jackie got me back in the union. We were working on building the new Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston. It DID feel great to be back to work…to have some purpose…but I was still really heavy on the pills. I’d be doing pills in the porta-potty at work, before work, right when I got out of work…you get it. I STILL busted my ass at work though, can’t take that away from me. I realized I couldn’t continue on this trend forever…. time was running out… if I didn’t stop now, I’d either be doing 50 pills a day or I’d be dead… that’s when the ultimatum came…
(To be continued)…