To Live a Life

By Amixjta

A true story of hope, belief, failure, need and greed – one person’s struggle with addiction and their road to redemption.
Have you ever wondered what it’s like to live on the ‘other side’ or longed to change your life? In To Live a Life, the author offers an unflinching tale of experimenting with drugs and alcohol in pursuit of getting ‘out there’… only to discover once immersed, there seems no way back.
This raw memoir leads readers on a turbulent journey of addiction battling emotion, clinging to life, and ultimately seeking survival. Travel the so-called ‘rocky road’ of substance abuse leading to utter dependence...when you’d do ‘anything’ to ‘get on,’ followed by the agonizing revelation you’d now give anything to “get off.
More than an addiction story, this is a universal testament to the human capacity for change and the power of community in bettering our lives when we’ve lost our way. There is always hope if we want it badly enough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781035846702

Amixjta

Growing up in a small town in country Melbourne, Victoria, I started writing when I was about sixteen. Then, I was mainly writing freehand and also kept journals of my experiences. I have also written poetry and have been an artist, with drawings. As I grew up, I tried my hand at many places of employment, from take away food, to horticulture and everything in between. After 30 years, I changed my life, my outlook, my passions and interests. Finding myself again… To Live a Life and write a book!

Book preview

2004

First Admission to

Adult Psych Ward

I woke up slowly, blinking my eyes. I was looking at a curtain. Then thoughts appeared, Where was I? What were the curtains for? Then I remembered … oh fuck, I’m in an ‘Adult Psych Ward’ … fuck. I rolled over onto my back taking in the walls and the ceiling, as I vividly remembered where, who, how, and why it was that led me to wake up ‘groggily’ in this strange room. W.T.F.??

I was already fully dressed … wearing the same clothes I’d worn in the past week … Bam! = I NEED A CAFFEINE HIT and a smoke. Jumping off the bed, it was becoming clearer to me; the day before when I was admitted.

I needed to find someone, to tell me, ‘What the Fuck was going on?’ (And where was the coffee?). I sped-walked down the corridor to the main reception area and found (what looked like), a nurse. From behind a glass wall, I was trying to get her to help me. Basically, I said that I needed a coffee and a smoke. She responded that it was only 5.30 a.m. and the doors didn’t open until 6.00 a.m. She had mercy and showed me where I could make a coffee, but reinstated that I had to wait ½ an hour for a ‘ciga’. Fuck it. Damn it. Fuck it. Damn it.

I stormed back to the room I was in and there was another lady asleep in the other bed. I sculled down my coffee then paced the corridor; up, down, up, down. Soon it would be 6.00 a.m. fuck it. I went into the bathroom and lit up a cigarette, had a quick couple of puffs and put it out. All I needed was a puff.

As it neared 6.00 a.m., the other patients were stumbling, zombie-like, down the corridor to the kitchen area. After 2/3 cups of coffee & a few cigarettes, (I didn’t have many cigarettes left), I was like ‘a cat on a hot tin fence’. Back to the nurses’ station; knock, knock on the window, trying to get someone’s attention, with my head leaning against the glass. FINALLY, a nurse came out. I asked her about medications and her answer was straight and narrow. Medications will be handed out at 8.00 a.m. You have to line up at the Medical Room door … have to wait until then.

PLeeaassee, can I just have…

No. I can’t help you. Hospital rules. Come back at 8.00 a.m.

Fuck – she wasn’t feeling how I was feeling. ‘Nasty bitch’, I thought to myself, marching back down the corridor.

I had to ring Mum. I needed more cigarettes. When would she/they be coming in? Back to the nurses’ station again, (the difficult patient that I was being).

I want to make a phone call – home.

Again, they were busy with their work. I took it as them just ignoring me – difficult patient. Then, one nurse came out and showed me where the phone was. I rang but at 7.30 a.m. there was no answer.

I got panicky. With no contact and still waiting for 8.00 a.m. to get my fucking meds, I was spinning out about being in there. I just mumbled a Hi and had a basic conversation with some of the other patients who were also awake early and feeling the same as me – NEED MEDS. Coffee and cigarettes were all we had, and got … at least we’re all suffering together.

January 8, 2008

Eastern health (Report)

To Whom It May Concern,

The client is a 33-year-old woman with a diagnosis of Bi-Polar Affective Disorder dating back to 2004. Her illness has necessitated the following inpatient hospital admissions. (Adult Mental Health Units – Involuntary)

March 4, 2004 – March 5, 2004 (St. Vincent’s Hospital)

March 9, 2004 – March 17, 2004 (Maroondah Hospital)

May 3, 2004 – May 14, 2004 (Maroondah Hospital)

December 1, 2004 – December 10, 2004 (Maroondah Hospital)

December 26, 2004 – January 2, 2005 (Maroondah Hospital)

March 24, 2007 – April 12, 2007 (Dandenong Hospital)

September 23, 2007 – October 5, 2007 (Maroondah Hospital)

October 21, 2008

Today is my 34th birthday and I have spent it mainly with D.M. We went to the beach for lunch. Had drinks. Walked the pier. Boats, etc. Back to base. Fucked messages from Ex! Old man rang. D.M. – home for mull. Landlady’s little boy wanted to wish me a happy birthday. Got flowers from them. Hanging out with D.M. Scheming to get off our heads. Cool dude to hang out with. Ex is a downer. Suicide commuter.

34 today

New Leaf – (34th yesterday)

Wednesday 22nd October 2008.

New journal (other than 2008 diary).

New day. New age. New life.

I’m currently living at a mate’s place behind her house in a bungalow. I have been living here for about two weeks now, during which time, I broke up with the boy, the saddest case on earth. Depressed Alien, Type A.

I have booked myself into Windana Rehabilitation – go in on 6th Nov for a week of ‘detox’, then go out onto the farm for a 1–12-week stay whilst rehabilitating. I’ve known, within myself, for a long time that I’ve needed a bit of ‘repair work’ done to my system.

Time out and relaxation and acre. Most importantly, ‘self-care’; putting myself and my needs before others. Get the Capt’n right and the ship’ll be sailing full tanks ahead. I seem to be letting off a hormonal scent at the moment as I’m attracting highly-strung sexual males – they’re everywhere. I have to BEHAVE like a lady and not some nymphomaniac.

There’s a lock and a key, remember, and that is sacred. That unlocks the door that you’ve been standing behind for so long. Freedom and love is what I need. Last week, when I was running amuck with an old mate, I went to the 3 mobile broadband shop, and can’t remember what happened or what went on, but they’ve given me a new SIM card and a number to call to fix it. Too late to ring now – it’s after 8.30 p.m. I’ll have to do it in the morning.

I have an appointment with ‘Case Manager’ tomorrow at 10.00 a.m. and I am also due for a ‘Depot’ shot – in the ass – which I want to get off. I think I’ll have to approach the M.H.R.B. Hearing for that one.

An ex is doing my head in at the moment. Every time we speak, he’s soooo mopy and depressed. I feel sorry for him and where he’s at, but I cannot be holding his head above water as well. It’s too heavy for two to keep afloat (you drown each other).

This is my drug journal. My fight against addiction and forging my way to freedom. Today, I brought another ½g of speed. I woke up this morning, had (x 3) pipes with my housemate and x 10 Temazepam. Then, I decided I wanted to shoot something up my arm, so I took the T.V. and the D.V.D. player to Cash Converters (worth $300.00) and got $110.00 for both of them. Then I went and got the ‘sailor man’ from Upwey, back to Knox and scored. I parked up the road, used 1/2 (1/4 g), and kept the other ½ until later.

I came home and organised ‘Windana’ – the counsellor made an appointment for Thursday 6th November 2008, for Drug Rehab and Detox. An associate rang and came over. We went and got a smoke (x 1 gram). He gave me a ¼ of it for myself (1/4 gm). So, the speed that I had wasn’t that good, coz I was not rushing or anything. It’s all made from ‘try-hards’ these days; the professionals keep the pure stuff to themselves. I also stopped at a Tavern and had a quick beer, met an old mate, then split, and was back home at about 4.30 – 5.00ish.

THOUGHTS ARE NOT COMMANDS.

I got a birthday card from a trusty counsellor today. She goes out of her way for me that woman. A really nice card it is as well. Always and forever, encouraging my spirit.

Fuck, it’s 12.30 a.m. already. I don’t know what happens to time sometimes – it’s just a blur. One minute it’s daylight, with the birds chirping, and next thing, its pitch black with nothing making a sound; all quiet.

I have been sorting out some paperwork. I am going to put a claim into Workcover for the breakdown I suffered from company business. Let’s see how I go anyway. I feel, now, as though I do deserve some form of compensation in return for all my hard work and un-thanked work. Something’s gotta give and it’s not going to be me this time.

Ex keeps on keeping on; lying, bullshitting. Looks like he’s been on the smack. I did ask, but to no avail. He (typically) denied it. He looks like death warmed up.

I am rather excited about going and doing this ‘rehab’ course in a couple of weeks. Be straight for once in my life, or at least, a long, long time. Find out who the ‘real me’ is – turf off the layers of bullshit