A bomb of epic proportions exploded in my luxury sedan on that warm evening in late September.  Just how much damage was caused exactly…I didn’t know.  I really didn’t want to know.  I didn’t even let my former flame get another word in before I absolutely lost it.

I immediately went into an all out panic.  Full on, flip the fuck out mode.  It was almost as if a real bomb did explode in my vehicle…instead of a metaphorical one…and I was the screaming, crying, raving lunatic of an innocent bystander that got his leg blown off.  Yeah…I was that bad…lol.

Try and picture if you will….

Who the fuck got arrested?  What happened?  When?  Tell me everything!  What the fuck do you mean there’s more?   Am I fucked?  I’m fucked aren’t I?!  Are the cops after me?  Did they come by the house?  Fuck!  fuck!  fuck!!…  did you tell them anything?  Shit.  I knew I shouldn’t have left rehab.  Fuck!  Drive faster will ya!  I need to get the fuck home right now!  Where’s my phone?  I’m getting the fuck outta here!  Go around this guy!  Can you fucking drive kid!? (I yelled to an innocent driver out of my passenger window).  Fuck!  Babe, how did this happen?  Do you think I’m fucked?  I can’t go to fucking jail!  I’m alright, right?– I stopped.  They’ve got nothing on me.  What the fuck is up with this fucking phone like?!  (as I started to slam my phone repeatedly on my dashboard as if that would help the situation).  Why doesn’t my fucking password work!?  Fuck it!  (as I throw my phone off my windshield in disgust).  Give me your phone!  Where is it?  I need to get in touch with so and so…fuck!  I don’t know his number!  Why is my fucking phone locked!? (as I throw her phone the same way I threw mine).  This isn’t happening right now.  I’m going to lose it.  This is why I fucking sniff pills…for times like these!  I’m fucking going to jail?  fuck. my. life….worst day ever……………… and so forth.

Embarrassingly enough, that was just a small preview of what went down after I heard that news.  My little tirade of non-stop questions, swearing, answering my own questions and accusations lasted a good fifteen minutes.  Out of control I was… I was sweating.  I was punching things.  I was spitting.  I was cursing as if I didn’t know any other words…awful.  I probably looked like a fucking maniac.  Yep… that was me, Matty the maniac.  I was fresh out of rehab, but I’m pretty positive that my ex thought I was very much still on drugs that night.

If I would have just stopped and taken a breath…calmed the fuck down and let my ex continue on with whatever it was she still had to say…instead of acting like a drugged up maniac…I would have found out that I may have jumped to conclusions a wee bit too fast.  Lesson learned.  This is why I made those rules from my previous blog DO NOT PANIC…so no one else repeats my mistakes.

In my defense (and I don’t have much to go on here…lol) I had literally just gotten out of rehab.  I was a nervous wreck to begin with before I even got into my car that night.  I was due to snap about something.  It was inevitable.  But it’s not all my fault… OK…well it is my fault I mean…but I had been on those fucking pills every single minute of every day for two years.  That’s not even counting the many other years of heavy recreational use of other party drugs.  I was fucked up.  Just because I went into rehab and was technically “clean” doesn’t mean I was fully back to normal by any means.  In fact I wasn’t even close.  That would take some time.  My mind was still definitely all over the fucking place…clearly.

When I heard my ex mention “friends arrested”, I automatically assumed the worst and I panicked.  I thought it had something to do with me and the business I had previously been involved in.  Paranoid much?… you have no idea.  Chalk that up to one of the many side effects of coming off of drugs…more of which I’ll explain later and in future blogs to come.  This is why I can’t stress enough about how badly drugs fuck your whole shit up.

I ended up finding out (after my little episode) that I was way off in my assumptions…well kind of.  Yes, two people (that will remain nameless–pffffff) that I know–not that I was friends with–did get arrested…and yes…it was for selling roxies–the very same drug that I had been selling in mass quantities before rehab.  However, thankfully enough, I had nothing to do with either of those two guys.  Therefore (at the time) no police, feds, or any other law enforcement agencies knew my name or what trade I had been involved in…so I knew I was good…at least for the time being.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all sunshine and butterflies once I realized I had been wrong in my assumptions.  On the contrary, I was still slightly worried, but it wasn’t to the point where I was yelling obscenities out the window of my car to other vehicles on the highway.  Sure…I was so relieved to hear that it wasn’t anyone I was close with…but deep down I knew that both of the jokers that had gotten pinched knew of what I used to deal in.  So I was a little nervous that they may try and throw up a hail Mary to help save themselves by tossing my name around in conversations with law enforcement officials.  The only solace I had was that I knew neither of them had any proof or credibility for that matter.  But even still, I didn’t want my name out there like that.

As worried as I may have been, I tried my best to put the new information at hand in the back of my mind and try relaxing a little.  One episode was certainly enough for that evening…and I didn’t see my ex holding up a lighter for an encore performance…so I played it cool.  The two of us drove home in silence for the most part, enjoying the radio and the warm evening…until I asked her what she meant when she said “there’s more?”

After receiving what appeared to be a look of bewilderment…followed by a semi-smile from my ex…I came to find out a few more answers to some questions that I had…

While I was away, basking in the glory of drug rehab, my ex was hard at work.  She took it upon herself to go through my blackberry (which is never a good thing) and make some adjustments to my social life.  She decided it was in my–or her–best interest to call, text, and/or Facebook everyone and their mother who could possibly have any ties to roxies and all things drugs.  I guess she told, or should I say threatened, all these randoms to stay the fuck away from me, to lose my number and to never give me drugs under any circumstances.  I was fucking mortified to hear this.

I see now that her heart may have been the right place, but at the time I was not the least bit happy.  I was trying to keep my drug addiction and my rehab stay under wraps and away from the general public…and here she was telling everyone in my phone.  Her calling, texting, and fb messaging threats to an unknown…yet probably very large…amount of people really threw a wrench into my plans of secrecy.  pffff.

Then, to add insult to injury, if that wasn’t bad enough…I came to find out that one of the people she called and messaged was none other than…YUP…you guessed it…one of the two newly arrested idiots that she had mentioned earlier…THAT was the “there’s more”.  I can’t even begin to explain how badly I wanted to flip the fuck out when I heard this.  I wanted to go home, pack a bag, and get as far away from Boston as possible…for good.  It was if she turned on the panic switch.  I was now certain that I was on the radar of the feds…and I was probably going to jail…awful.

I didn’t yell.  I didn’t start to panic.  I didn’t even show cause for concern when she told me what she had done.  I honestly had no energy left to snap.  I couldn’t argue even if I wanted to.  All I really felt at that moment was a hopeless sense of despair.  I just wanted to get home, eat, unwind and put the day behind me.  That might have been the longest and most emotional roller coaster car ride in my life.  Food and sleep–that’s all I wanted.

When we arrived back at my apartment I had kind of a fuck it attitude.  I realized that everything was out of my hands and there was nothing that I could do.  Tomorrow would be another day.  I tried my hardest to forget what I had just heard and just enjoy the moment.  Sure, I acted like a fucking lunatic, but I was free…I was with my girl…pfffff lol…and I had my favorite carrot cake.  It wasn’t so bad after all.

The remainder of the night went off without hitch.  We enjoyed our food and each others company.  I’m pretty sure I ate the whole carrot cake myself.  Then we showered and went to bed…yada yada wink…forty five to sixty seconds later I was on my roof smoking a cigarette while she slept…or laughed at how quick I lasted LOL!.  Another side effect of coming off of pills…need I say more about how bad drugs can fuck your whole shit up? LOL

Finally I came back inside after enjoying my cigarette and I went to bed…or tried to anyways.  I had a lot on my mind.  So much had happened and I was pretty sure this was only the beginning.  I didn’t know what the future held for me.  It had definitely been a long day…one which I was extremely glad was over… I slept….

Only to be woken up about four hours later… I was in a pool of sweat…  I had the chills… I felt like… like shit… it was almost as if…. wait… nah it couldn’t be…. it was almost as if the withdrawals were back….. FUCK.

To be continued……

Posted 05/02/2012 by Matty McDonald in Uncategorized

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