The Drugging Of My Youth - A Survival Story

When I was just 4 years old, I was put on television to advertise Ritalin. My mom was a psychiatric nurse and whilst I hold no ill will towards her as I understand the indoctrination all too well after my course in veterinary asst. I do however find it to be absolutely abhorrent that society would have us believe there's nothing inherently wrong with drugging children (or dogs for that matter). For a decade I was what I refer to as a 'lab rat' having been on multiple medications during that time; Dexedrine, Prozac, Seroquil, sadly the list goes on... We also moved constantly, every few months to a year. I must have switched schools 20 times. So I struggled a lot with making friends.

I was pretty bright at age 4. I wanted to be a marine biologist (I absolutely adored Free Willy) and my favourite story my parents told me is when I stole my dad's contact lenses and put them on my simba stuffy. When my dad asked why I did that I told him that it was because he needed to see that one day he would be king.

Fast forward to age 13 when I first discovered cannabis. I finally felt somewhat normal and accepted. I ate food regularly and I slept at night without sleeping pills like a regular person. It basically woke me up from the drug induced slumber I was forced to endure throughout my childhood. I since quit all the medications and became quite the rebel having realized what had been done to me. My mom did not approve. I understand that this was out of fear instilled in her by propaganda. But cutting off my contact with my friends (and flushing cannabis) caused me extreme grief. I would self-harm as a result and then I ran away.

Wearing my SOAD army coat and a pair of fairy wings I hitch hiked for the only time in my life. I took a transit bus out as far as I could go and began walking. My first ride was in a semi and the driver exclaimed his concern saying he has a daughter my age but took me as far as he could. The 2nd ride I don't remember much of but the last one was in a DeLorean with fuzzy interior and green lights, a very kind gay man dropped me off right where I needed to be. I had made it 250kms to see my best friend.

It was a surprise visit since my mom had cut off my contact with her. I ended up being unable to find her and wound up in a foster house. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep at this foster house and then waking up in a psych ward. I have no recollection of what happened. Apparently they found me in a 7-11 completely out of it. And all I could recall of my arrival to the ward was being stripped down, stabbed in the ass with tranquilizers and thrown in a cement room with only a cold floor to sleep on. 3 days amnesia from the tranqs.

I spent most my time there making scrapbooks from magazines and conversing with the people there. Most of them were pretty swell, to my recollection there was only one person who seemed 'crazy' and made me nervous. The rest adored me. There was an old man who could contort his body in all kinds of incredible shapes who I remember fondly.

This is the only page really with writing on it. The 2nd book is lost

Then I got ahold of my friend and planned my escape. Went outside to the smoke area and when I knew no one was looking I threw my scrapbooks over the fence, climbed over and we ran off into the night together. I was caught the next day and upon my return the people I had met previously cheered me on for having escaped. But unfortunately it seems I would be the last to easily pass over that fence as they installed barbed wire afterwards. I was promptly transferred to another ward in the town I ran away from. They were way more serious here and kept a close eye on me.

The child psychologist with his backwards taupe who viewed me for 10 minutes exclaimed in his 25 yrs of practice I was the worst case of aspergers next to only one other. I laughed at this 'assburgers wtf is that?'. I've always thought it another excuse to continue drugging me.

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Then they put me in anger management and wouldn't let me smoke for 5 hours. Being a rebel I did not listen to this and quickly found my way out of there. I lived in multiple foster homes/safehouse until I met a friend online who let me stay at his apartment with the condition that I would still attend school.

I loved this place, I was allowed to be myself, had a constant supply of medicine (cannabis) and had a lot of fun. Nerdy (I say this affectionately as I am too) older guy who was lonely after his room mate moved out let me build forts in the extra room, taught me to play guitar and we had lots of chocolate milk and curly fries and a safe environment to do mushrooms.

I was 15-16 when I went to live with my dad, this is when I lost pretty much all of my artwork and that was devastating. Art was my main coping mechanism asides from cannabis. My mom advised my dad to keep me on medications but he witnessed what it was doing to me and stopped when I tried to take a bunch of them at once and overdose. He brought me to a therapist as she instructed where I used the chains I was wearing to attach myself to the chair to signify my dissatisfaction. The barbie-like woman said I was hopeless. But I never believed she could help me to begin with. How could barbie understand what I was going through?

Something absolutely horrifying happened to me in this time frame which I don't wish to talk about but it helped being allowed to use cannabis as medicine and make friends without restriction. I dropped out of school since they illegally shredded my files (likely I was a bad influence) and there's no way I would repeat grade 8. Eventually got into my first relationship at 16 and started working graveyards and then rescuing animals. Love heals. The jobs and relationship lasted 4 years and then he abandoned me without saying anything. That's when I had a serious spiritual awakening.

To Be Continued...

So who is really crazy? The way psyche deals with things is what I find to be truly insane, and it's not just me whose been treated in this manner. Though my disdain towards the system has made me strong and given me resolve. And ultimately lead me where I am today which I am grateful for.

Abuse & trauma are some of the saddest things. But I think a person can come back from anything and those make the most epic hero stories.