Chapter 10: Walking Through Walls
A Journey of Addiction, Healing, and Rediscovery
Day Ten: Monday August 25th, 2003
Today was a weird one. Firstly, I slept far too much last night and it might be because it was the first time in over a week that I had milk. I’m sticking to soya milk in future; the idea of dairy juice feels wrong to me these days. But the main thing was just feeling restless and unable to feel comfortable in any situation.
There’s something else which has cropped up as I predicted it would, and that’s my sex drive. I had not really thought about sex while I was here until the last few days and it’s one thing that is difficult to deal with. I am not the only one of course, it’s all guys in here and there’s a lot of testosterone floating around. Some of them have not been sexually active for years, and now they are full of energy that they haven’t felt because of heroin. I was not going to write about it at first, but since there’s everything in this journal (and a few kitchen sinks), it seems a bit late to start leaving stuff out. Anyway, the long and the short of it (excuse the terminology) is that I am feeling randy as hell! And there’s very little to do about it, and what little can be done about it, is a solitary kitchen sink that is not going to be written into this diary!
Later, I am invited by Phra Peter to help with another English lesson for some Thai monks. I am very relaxed and, apparently, they are all pleased that I have returned, which is nice. We hold basic conversations and at the end they ask me to sing “Imagine”, which I manage by editing out the last verse which I can never remember (I have trouble remembering lyrics unless I wrote them - it’s why I’ve never been able to migrate into a ‘covers’ artist).
Phra Peter walks me back to the centre and I head off with the others to the sauna. I’m not really in the mood as I said before, it’s a weird vibe of a day and I don’t know why. Natalie, a young English lady who works here (an ex-patient) tells me that I am to be filmed and recorded talking about my work on the music from nature, so I go upstairs to practice.
It’s the same room I finished writing the first song in and the dead rat is still there. This is why I have not got much done with my music at home, because every time I’ve written something I am proud of, I shelve it and am too lazy to physically get up and do what it takes to perform one of my songs. I ten to write songs that are not too easy to pull off if the performer is not 100%, and I haven’t even been 50% for a long time. I’ve never written a song that I didn’t have to develop my voice into a new direction to perform. I don’t think I’ve ever written songs for myself. Only a stronger version of myself that I’ve had to keep trying to become. It reminds me I never wanted to be a singer. Just a song writer. Maybe that’s where I started going wrong.
So I set about going over and over it until it becomes like breathing, just as I did in Jocasta, and eventually, after two hours, I can get away with it, enough that someone passing the room says it sounds great. Most people’s great is “ok” by my standards, but I’m pleased it’s presentable enough to make emotional sense to a new listener, because I’ve got a long way to go before that song really sounds like one of my limbs.
At 3pm it is meditation again and I have that trouble again with focusing on the ‘within’, although after we have finished I feel very good. I conclude that I met the same realm of peace as the day before but was not centered enough to really know it. Ah well. If at first you don’t succeed…
I have just come to sit outside because the latest arrival is here (the chap who came to quit smoking cigarettes) and I have just lit one up. I don’t want to be an unfair test for him.
It’s lovely out here. There are crickets laughing in the trees and you can smell the moist earth after the rainfall. It reminds me of mum’s home in Spain which is just as much an outdoor life as it is here. When I think about the indescribable weirdness I and everyone else has felt today, I begin to wonder if it’s because D from Dundee has left to go home.
As I said before, it’s a very close knit sort of band of brothers here and perhaps D leaving has more of an effect than we realise. He was certainly the most peaceful and strongest among us. I suppose because he has gone through the whole treatment and is now going to face his life again. I think the strong energy he was emitting within the group was like another crutch for the rest of us who are still in the early stages of recovery. It must have an effect on the way we all feel and perhaps that’s why everything seemed so chaotic today. K will be the next to leave so we shall see what happens when he goes. I already know I will miss him. He’s a cool guy and very serious behind his easy-going nature. I still think there’s something impenetrable that hides his insecurity, which frustrates me with people I like and care about. I hope he makes it through to the other side; he’s a very good mixture of strength and fragility for one person.
Although I don’t feel instinctively close to C, I get on very well with him and he has shared many useful experiences he’s had along the way while he’s been here. There is something about him where I feel he is constantly trying to prove he is doing ok and the truth is, he IS doing ok, but the nervous nature to communicate constantly comes from a fear ( in my opinion) and I feel for him that he is underneath it all, unsure of himself. Like me, everything he says is right, but the pressure we put onto ourselves to practice it when we go home is hard to imagine achieving.
It has only just dawned on me that I was the only one here until S arrived that hasn’t been in prison. I count my lucky stars I have not been through some of the horrors I have heard about from the others. My mother was right when she said I had strong guardians. I hope they know I am trying now to make up for the time I stopped believing in them. Jesus, so much in life is down to your faith and when something crushes you, it’s so hard to keep that faith. I am never losing it again. A mosquito is a test when you are meditating. Losing everything you love when you’re having the time of your life is another. If there’s anything to learn from that, for me, it’s not to ever lose faith even if you lose everything else. With enough faith you can get it back again. I wish I’d known that in 1997, but still, je ne regrette rien.
I support these organisations who are shaping a system change to integrate mental health awareness and well-being into the music industry. Please do read about their work.
The Creative Well
Music Mind Matters
Waterbear College of Music