I’ve written about meth voices before. Unfortunately this blog’s most popular post is on that subject. But I don’t think I managed to express just how scary those voices can be.
I’ve always been into horror, and yesterday I saw this cheesy meme:
That’s cheesy as all fuck. But imagine hearing voices like that for real…
Although I only started hearing voices all the time after using meth for a couple of years, there was one exception to this – one occasion when I heard a voice early on and didn’t know what it was.
It was 2005. I’d been using for less than a year. Not even much… typically I’d have a quarter gram last two days then and I’d limit myself to using between 7 and 8PM so that I could sleep.
So I laid down to sleep, at around 11PM. And just before I was able to drift off, a woman’s voice spoke directly into my ear, “Hello”. That was it. Just hello. This was before I became a skeptic and fully accepted that I was an atheist. I’d always believed in the supernatural, and “seen” ghosts as a child. (I’m not getting into that now. Just accept that it was sleep paralysis but I genuinely believed in those things.) It was bizarre in that the voice was clear. Crystal clear. (Pardon the stupid pun, but I didn’t know this was a side effect of the drug.) So I leaped out of bed and walked around the apartment, trying to get that feeling, trying to sense the “presence”.
But that time wasn’t so bad. It didn’t happen again for a long time. A year later, I met my girlfriend and we were happy for a while, and I forgot all about hearing voices.
Fast forward to 2012. She’d left me, and then come back, then left me, then come back again… It was a complicated mess and I’d lost count. At one stage she came back, and sat in the passenger seat of my car, waiting there while I went to job interviews.
Then I got the job, but by the time I started, she was gone again. I started this new job, but I was a basket case. My girlfriend, who I thought was the love of my life, had left me suddenly again. And here I was, in a new job where I could remember her sitting just outside in my car. Meanwhile she’d run off to Pakistan this time, with the other guy.
It wasn’t a good job. Everybody there was Afrikaans, except for me. They had this white Afrikaner culture thing going on, and made me feel like I didn’t belong there at any given opportunity. Plus the developer who was leaving, and whose place I was taking… disliked me. He kept asking trick questions about development just to try catching me out, while I refused to answer them even when I knew the answers, because meth didn’t leave me in the friendliest of moods.
But the voices were the worst. I’d be sitting in a room with three other people, but the meth left me in the same mood I’d be while sitting alone in the dark, in the middle of the night. So with people all around me, I’d hear her voice, whispering in my ear, “Jeroooome!” I fucking jumped, so startled was I. And it kept happening. I could not keep it together. I’d be this shaky mess all the time, trying to be functional, trying to look normal in front of the others at work; trying but not succeeding.
Then if I walked outside, to or from the car, I’d hear her calling me. Whispering, shouting, pleading, crying, begging me for help, and telling me she loved me.
Soon it wasn’t just her voice. I’d hear several voices, sometimes dozens. I heard voices all the time and if you can imagine that meme at the top of this post, imagine it in the context of a horror movie when it is scary and not cheesy, then multiply that scare factor by ten thousand. That’s how it feels to live with those voices, like you are inside a horror movie. And that was even though I knew the voices were not real. Many addicts don’t know. Imagine what it must be like for them.
And that, not knowing, is possibly what makes it so much worse. This is why I hate it when these posts get inundated with comments by people who think the voices are real. People who come up with coping mechanisms for the voices, who discover that they can change what the voices say, or who develop delusions and believe the voices are demons, or god. None of those things are real, and it makes me sad when I read those comments made by addicts who have lost their minds. Sad and maybe a little guilty. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t end up like them, as much as I wish they could all end up seeing reality like me.