Читать книгу Hard Cuddles - James Harding - Страница 12

ADDICTED AT 6 YEARS OLD

‘Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism.’

— Carl Jung

As early as I can remember I have had an insatiable addiction to any sort of mind-altering substance. In fact, I am easily addicted to anything: food, fun, alcohol, drugs, people, a good time, anything that gets the adrenaline pumping.

My earliest recollection of being addicted to drugs was in grade two. It was spring and a lovely sunny day. I have always suffered from asthma and on a couple of occasions it got quite serious. I always carried a Ventolin asthma puffer. On this particular day I was tearing around the playground when I noticed that I was short of breath. I had experienced this before and realised an asthma attack was not far off, so I immediately walked back to the school and made my way upstairs to the classroom.

When I found my bag hanging on its hook out the front of the classroom, I grabbed the Ventolin and took two puffs. Just above the row of hooks was a window that overlooked the whole playground. While I stood there and waited for the medication to work, I had a thought. What would happen if I continued to keep on puffing?

I held the Ventolin in my mouth and I continued to squeeze the pump over and over again. Call me crazy, but I had this overwhelming sense of excitement as to what was going to happen and that was when I slowly started to feel like I was stepping away from my body. It was full steam ahead. Pssht, pssht, pssht, I was pressing away. That’s when I heard that magical word for the first time. SFIDFIDA is what it sounded like. That’s the only way I can describe it. This sound came in waves from the left eardrum and moved into the right eardrum over and over again. That noise, SFIDFIDA was the direct result of hallucinating from taking too much Ventolin. I was well aware what I was doing was forbidden but I just could not stop. Pssht, pssht, pssht, I kept pressing, the SFIDFIDA got louder and more present. It felt like someone was singing straight through my head. In my mind it felt like I was watching myself, watching the kids running around the school playground and I can recall thinking, ‘I bet they’re not having as much fun as me.’

I was in such a peaceful state of mind. It was undoubtedly dangerous and I’m sure I knew this, but the issue of safety had never entered my mind, it still doesn’t. My ability to always feel safe is part of my genetic make-up and is probably a massive part of the reason nothing sinister has really happened to me. That and a dash of good luck.

Pssht, pssht, pssht, now it seemed like I was getting further and further away from my body and the SFIDFIDA noise was getting more prominent. I realised it may be the time to just enjoy the fruits of my labour and continue my quest for the ultimate buzz at a later date. The Ventolin dropped down to my thigh with my hand attached to it. I felt like some sort of grand conductor standing on the second floor, directing and controlling with my mind the little school children down below, running around like ants.

My Ventolin puffing extravaganzas only subsided when Mum realised I was burning through these puffers at a rapid rate, she took me to see an asthma specialist, Dr McIntyre, one of the leading asthma men in Melbourne. He had the gall to question the regularity and administration of my application. If anything I was proactive, rather than overzealous. The two of them ganged up on me, the old divide and conquer routine. I had seen my school teachers try this on me. I held firm to my denial of the accusations against my good name, till the doc suggested that if one was to continue using Ventolin at this rate, one would risk the chance of getting emphysema. What the fuck? Now I was all for having a good time, but this startling revelation was too much. Still…the seed had been sown.