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Once we were settled here in Mexico I became
quite obsessed with injustices I had
uncovered at the US Academy. I used my
skills as a web designer to build websites,
I wrote letters to US authorities and the
various schools in the area the abuse had
occurred. I went to online forums and tried
to expose the Academy’s unwillingness to act
on these heinous atrocities.
I had gone completely away from my Real
journey and taken the darkened side road of
judgment and condemnation and I felt
entirely justified. Life became very bleak,
I wasn’t able to get my regular pain
medication here in Mexico and the pain in my
paralyzed leg became impossible to bare. I
went to doctor after doctor but it was no
use, Mexico just didn’t have real pain
medication of the kind I was on in the US.
Eventually I was directed to this seedy
little pain clinic at the edge of town, I
went and fortunately the doctor there spoke
English so I could explain my problem to
him.
He understood and gave me some pills, they
worked, I was over the moon for about a
month then I had to go get more pills. I
hadn’t been able to read the label on the
container so I asked the doctor what the
pills were. “Morphine” he said without
batting an eye, my God I had become addicted
to Morphine and I hadn’t even noticed.
I became extremely reclusive, I shut myself
in my room and drew the curtains only going
out to visit the doctor and to take Jenny
for a short walk once a day. Naturally, as
is the case with addictive substances I kept
needing more, the pain in my leg would
return so I would up the dose. It got to be
a vicious circle of dependency; I would sit
on my bed in a Morphine haze and watch the
television day after day, month after month
popping pills.
Two years went by, I had almost disappeared
into my haze, I felt nothing and my thoughts
were very limited even mundane. One morning
I was sitting on the edge of my bed feeling
terrible, starkly alone and unhappy, here I
was an addict, a slave to pills and I could
NOT see a way out.
My head dropped as if by reflex and I said
aloud, “Holy Spirit, help me” Then, as I
reached for the bottle of Morphine beside me
I noticed that a single sun beam had
penetrated my darkened lair through a crack
in the curtain. It lighted on the gold
embossed spine of my dusty old copy of A
Course in Miracle, I was momentarily
transfixed.
Latter that day I began to vomit, I had
diarrhea and I became dehydrated very
quickly, the maid kept me clean and fed
though I was unable to get much down. The
situation soon became critical and I was
rushed to hospital in an ambulance. I found
out latter that I was so dehydrated that
when they asked me my name, I didn’t know
it, I had some form of typhoid and I was
extremely ill.
The doctor at the hospital confiscated my
Morphine; he told me that I was going to
have to come off it if I wanted to recover
my health. He said I would need to join a
group for addicts and he proscribed
antidepressants and all sorts of other meds
that he said would help me through the
physical withdrawal stage.
I told him I had other help, I was going to
beat this thing with the help of my own mind
and I would rather not replace one addiction
for another so I thanked him but declined
his meds. When I arrived home from the
hospital I was extremely weak, I went into
my bathroom and tossed the remaining six
bottles of Morphine into the toilet. I was
already withdrawing severely so this act was
torture; I knew that just one pill could
elevate the terrible cramps, temperature
variations, and incessant shaking I was
experiencing. But I had made my decision I
was prepared to die rather than continue
along the path I had been on.
I went to bed, it was hell for weeks but
finally I recovered, I had pulled out my
Course book and blown off the dust so I felt
I had a friend with me once more. Finally I
got out of my bed and ventured out into the
street again, the sun was shining and there
were happy people everywhere. I took my
Jenny and went for a coffee to celebrate the
reclamation of my life.
I had come through my darkest night, I had
been reading my Course in Miracles all
through the recovery but it was like an
entirely new book. I saw my own
responsibility for what I did and saw around
me in a totally new light, I was the cause
and not merely an effect. As I looked at the
world outside myself now I saw it quite
differently, there was no sin or corruption,
no pain or suffering. The world was merely
as I interpreted it and all my
interpretations had been wrong.
As I recovered my physical strength I went
to see friends in the US, I reread many of
the Lessons in the Course and I realized
with happy refrain, as I pondered the
different situations in my life, that I had
been wrong about everything. Finally after
50 years of searching everywhere for God, I
had found Him, He was in me, the last place
I thought to look. Not only was He in me but
everything I
 looked
at or thought about now reflected His Loving
presence and I could choose to hand
everything over to Him. I was ecstatic,
there wasn’t anything out there at all, as
the Course had said, there is Only One Mind,
no duality existed anywhere and finally
these weren’t just words, they were MY
EXPERIENCE.
More on the way... |
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Part 1 |
Part 2 |
Part 3 |
Part 4 |
Part 5 |
Part 6 |
Part 7 |
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If you enjoyed reading
my story perhaps you will
join me here for more? |
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