First Two Reasons Regarding How I Survived
It was because of two reasons I survived this torture:
I created a mantra that I repeated to myself over and over: “Hang on - Things will get better.”
Second and probably most important was that my wife, who wasn’t a smoker, stood by and supported me the entire time.
- - - - -
I had no idea this could happen when I first started. The only perceived dangers in the late 60s and early 70s, were memory loss and paranoia, which was said at the time to only be temporary.
Getting “High” was the thing to do: You were “with it.” You were “hip.” You were “anti-establishment” and stood up to “The Man.”
It was one big party.
In fact, a popular saying of the 70s was: “Sex. Drugs. Rock & Roll.”
- - - - -
The first time I smoked was an incredibly euphoric and beautiful experience. It was like all my worries and concerns had vanished. To say I wanted to repeat the experience is a major understatement.
My favorite activity was to listen the “Progressive Rock” music of the time. When I felt the High wearing off, I’d smoke another pipe. It was typical 3-4 daily, sometimes more.
After a while, I began to notice was that the highs weren’t as brilliant as when I started. My thoughts were that I only needed to smoke more, which I did.
In fact between my 23rd and 25th birthdays, I was High almost every waking moment.
Thing is though, instead of recapturing that initial euphoria, things just got “darker.” That’s the best way to describe it.
- - - - -
Besides the music, I’d also read what were called “Underground Comics.” These were essentially self-published and could only be found in shops that sold drug paraphernalia and such. Much of the material was irreverent satire and counter culture stories, specifically written for those who were or frequently got high.
At the beginning, the stories were funny. Sometimes, they had a twist that would “zap” your mind while you were stoned.
But just like with the music, they began to take on a sinister aspect. I kept on smocking though, believing that I would eventually recapture that euphoria.
- - - - -
The anxiety started in the final months leading up to the breakdown.
I smoked before going to bed, but instead of being “mellow” I’d have this growing sense of agitation. I’d eventually fall asleep, and in the morning, things would seem “normal,” such as it was.
Again, I’d never heard any warnings about this and in my youthful naivety, just kept at it.
Though I don’t remember the exact day, in January of 1972 something snapped in my mind. I had smoked, but this time the agitation, rather then ebbing, consumed my being.
Everything I described earlier began at this moment.
In spite decades of therapy and medications, some of the effects still persist to this very day!
I created a mantra that I repeated to myself over and over: “Hang on - Things will get better.”
Second and probably most important was that my wife, who wasn’t a smoker, stood by and supported me the entire time.
- - - - -
I had no idea this could happen when I first started. The only perceived dangers in the late 60s and early 70s, were memory loss and paranoia, which was said at the time to only be temporary.
Getting “High” was the thing to do: You were “with it.” You were “hip.” You were “anti-establishment” and stood up to “The Man.”
It was one big party.
In fact, a popular saying of the 70s was: “Sex. Drugs. Rock & Roll.”
- - - - -
The first time I smoked was an incredibly euphoric and beautiful experience. It was like all my worries and concerns had vanished. To say I wanted to repeat the experience is a major understatement.
My favorite activity was to listen the “Progressive Rock” music of the time. When I felt the High wearing off, I’d smoke another pipe. It was typical 3-4 daily, sometimes more.
After a while, I began to notice was that the highs weren’t as brilliant as when I started. My thoughts were that I only needed to smoke more, which I did.
In fact between my 23rd and 25th birthdays, I was High almost every waking moment.
Thing is though, instead of recapturing that initial euphoria, things just got “darker.” That’s the best way to describe it.
- - - - -
Besides the music, I’d also read what were called “Underground Comics.” These were essentially self-published and could only be found in shops that sold drug paraphernalia and such. Much of the material was irreverent satire and counter culture stories, specifically written for those who were or frequently got high.
At the beginning, the stories were funny. Sometimes, they had a twist that would “zap” your mind while you were stoned.
But just like with the music, they began to take on a sinister aspect. I kept on smocking though, believing that I would eventually recapture that euphoria.
- - - - -
The anxiety started in the final months leading up to the breakdown.
I smoked before going to bed, but instead of being “mellow” I’d have this growing sense of agitation. I’d eventually fall asleep, and in the morning, things would seem “normal,” such as it was.
Again, I’d never heard any warnings about this and in my youthful naivety, just kept at it.
Though I don’t remember the exact day, in January of 1972 something snapped in my mind. I had smoked, but this time the agitation, rather then ebbing, consumed my being.
Everything I described earlier began at this moment.
In spite decades of therapy and medications, some of the effects still persist to this very day!