They say it goes in cycles, the good and the bad that is, a friend once told me that if you’re having a tough time with a phase your child is going through it would only last for two weeks, than some other shit, ideally easier will take over. I’m a proud dad who loves his one and only daughter more than anything else in the world. Whilst I’m sure many people say that but I wholeheartedly mean it, if something was to happen to her than I would have two options:
1) End my life through overdosing on a selection of depressents.
2) Slide down the downward spiral to a place so dark there would be no coming back.
This would not just be out of loss, it would be the guilt and shame of my pointless life that would prod me towards the darkness. I can’t say I really enjoyed my childhood, I always and still feel forgotten or avoided. Don’t get me wrong I have always had friends and parents who loved me. I always wanted something more… Though I don’t quite know what, it’s like an animal instinct that I have been searching for my whole life but the only things I have picked up on the way are anger, guilt, shame and self hate.
One of the myths you heard growing up was around the effects of weed on your short term memory, surely this was yet another of those scare campaigns that was spread by parents to keep you out of trouble, like not eating cheese before bed or you’ll get cheese dreams (Are these real?) . It was around my mid twenties when I realized how much of an impact this had on my life, my short term memory is painfully problematic and hinders my absorption of lots of data and most noticeably studies and even remembering characters names in movies or bands.
I believe it was around the age of 14 or so I started on my quest with weed.
My first cigarette was around the same age skateboarding near a private girls school in the Inner West of Sydney with friends Matthew and Seamus. Seamus was a bloke who was always taking everything we did to the next level. He died in his early twenties from the damage of drugs and alcohol which was not a surprise to hear though I had not spoken to him for a long time.
All my mum talked about was travel. She had about 5 – 10 stories in her repertoire, involving travels to various parts of the world: On a travel bus with only the one Neil diamond tape creating the soundtrack of the season – That one time she smoked hash (which did not effect her), after pressure from shady locals in Morocco with deviate plans and an almost lesbian camping experience. These stories would automatically come out whenever a series of related keywords including any that could be linked such as mode of travel, marijuana, gay / lesbian references, Neil Diamond, etc..
Despite how these stories made me cringe whether in public or not I inherited the urge to travel and explore, this has defined my motivations in life and I have been very lucky to land a career in a company with extensive travel and secondment opportunities.