Exiting The Cycle of Addiction

#91 - Because life is the trip

I had a good laugh at myself after publishing last week’s article. When I wrote that cliffhanger, something clicked in my brain, and I realized I’ve been subconsciously creating a world for myself where I do not want to live.

So today, I am going to destroy that world for good, which will ultimately bring some well needed changes to my life, and to this publication, moving forward.

Just to be clear, T.H.E. is not going anywhere, but we are updating how we publish. So grab a lighter, would ya? And help me light this cleansing fire.

When I started publishing online every Wednesday, back in 2021, I began a practice of telling stories about all the times I’ve cheated death.

And every single one of them are true. I thought for a while they were the most compelling stories I could share, because in my twisted perception, I thought they gave me some form of credibility as a survivor.

I thought those experiences made me tough, and I wanted you to know I was tough.

I needed you to know I was tough—that I could handle myself.

Because I needed to believe it too, while I felt painfully alone.

I wanted to feel special, and cool, and dangerous, so I glorified the days I spent in Hell, with hopes you would love me for surviving. With hopes someone would finally see me as special.

And in hindsight, I’m glad I did all that writing, because it pushed me to create a situation which would help me realize it’s time to step out of the old cycle, and into my true power.

During my recent New Mexico trip, I did something stupid and negligent while repairing my car. And I ended up accidentally poisoning myself with corroded battery acid, through a tiny cut on my hand.

And now, looking back at what happened, I realize how I never even thought to wear gloves for safety, since almost dying always proves to be a click-worthy story here at T.H.E.

Subconsciously, I knew what I was doing, while on the surface my awareness was focused on solving the problem as quickly as I could.

But not long after the exposure, I found myself violently ill, and completely debilitated, stranded with my sweet, innocent dog, and I have never felt so scared and alone in all of my life. There was nothing glorifying about it.

It was literally Hell on Earth. And I transported myself there under my own direction.

Laying there, listening to the gravel crunch outside my tent while I swallowed vomit to avoid a direct encounter, I couldn’t deny my dog was going to become bear food, if I didn’t make it through.

And I was fucking terrified my negligence would cost my life and his.

If it hadn’t been for the support of my friends, who went out of their way to meet me once the sun came up, I have no idea what I would have done out there.

Once we linked up in Taos, they took care of Juice, and I was able to rest and recover, knowing I was finally safe to do so.

While the situation was terrifying at times, it illuminated certain things in my mind in undeniable ways.

I saw myself clearly and without judgment, and how for nearly my entire life, I have isolated myself in cycles of shadowy addiction, where I did not want to be found by the light.

But the addict is capable of creating incredible stories to keep their focus turned outward so they don’t have to face themself.

So for a long time, I took pride in being a self-described lone wolf who “didn’t need anyone’s help.”

I legitimately believed I could live my entire life alone, without ever truly needing anyone else in my corner, because in my mind I had been alone my whole life already, and I was doing just fine.

But I was dead wrong.

And now I see those stories were a defense mechanism my scared child’s brain created, to escape the pain of feeling unloved, the fear of being left to die alone, and to support the cycles of addiction I needed to experience, in order to remember who I truly am.

As a youngster, I did not feel loved, or worthy of receiving it. I remember feeling terrified almost all the time, with a few good days here and there. This led to me having zero confidence in myself, for too many reasons to count.

So I learned to isolate, and to cope using whatever tools I could find.

And during those years of dark depression, I built a heavy addiction to nicotine, which I later experienced a sticky divorce with. It took several tries to remove the tobacco from my lip for good, so I understand why some folks never escape its vicious grasp.

I used to look at other people like they were Demi Gods, feeling I was merely a half-mortal peasant, unworthy of their love, or being touched intimately. So I built mental addictions to anyone who gave me the time of day, seeking to find my worth in them.

But that never worked out the way my Mind needed it to.

And I allowed those feelings of unworthiness to sour my heart. So I ate candy, and lots of deep fried food, because tasting something rich or sweet made me feel better for a split second at a time, when I wanted more to die than to live.

“At least I can still enjoy this,” I’d tell myself, before the artificial high wore off moments later.

When I left home, moving to San Francisco in 2010, I experimented with various psychedelic drugs, because I wanted to see how far the rabbit hole went. I wanted to discover a reason to live, and I wanted to find out if there was any being, anywhere, who might one day love me for who I am.

But when I ultimately took too much and reached the white zone, I was terrified to find reality and my body had both dissolved into the void. Which, funny enough, I always imagined would be vantablack in color. But no, it was pure white.

Pure limitless potential.

And in that space I was a silent witness of myself—all I appreciated, and all I detested. I remember being afraid, wondering if I had died, yet I was unable to scream for help, since I had no physical body.

When I came back, I woke in my tiny apartment by the beach, and Tucker was sleeping on his bed. I kissed him on the nose, crying, and told him I never wanted to leave his side again.

Things felt different after I completed a three month bicycle ride in 2020. The magic I experienced on the road changed me, and I began to see myself as a person worth loving. I finally understood why Tuck saw me the way he did, and I thought I had found the answers to all my great questions.

So I started telling stories here, from the viewpoint of a kid who had it all figured out. And I got addicted to writing about how I was a survivor who cheated death over and again.

And the near death experiences became more intense as time went on. They were terrifying to go though, but I loved writing about them after, and the attention they brought to me.

But in telling those stories, I gave them an independent life force, which siphoned from my own. And they became subconscious programs which sneakily drove me to breathe more and more life into them, until I laid there in the desert, in Cimmaron, writhing in illuminating pain.

And when my friends scooped me up off the ground, they took me to a comfortable leather couch, at an airbnb in the mountains, where the old Sean died.

And his addictions died with him, so I could be re-born as my true self.

So today, I am writing to let you know that this will be my last Weekly Wednesday article. I need to spend the bulk of my creative energy on my Novel, and so a sacrifice has been made.

T.H.E. will continue, of course, but as we move forward, I will be publishing when I feel there is something inspired, heartfelt, and/or important to say.

There will be no more “creating stories” to fit a weekly deadline. Life taught me my lesson, and dear god, I am listening.

I gave my addictions to god, and asked to become an instrument of the Grand Will. And in return I palpably felt the last shreds of self-judgment dissolve within me.

I spent a long time looking outside for approval of who I am. And I forgive myself for believing I had to do that.

I forgive myself for the damage I did to my body in ignorance, and depression. For I was but a lost boy who thought he was alone in this world.

But that too was just a story in my head. And I know now that I am never, and was never alone.

Because whenever I close my eyes, I see more eyes.

So, I choose now to step into my true power, and to spend my energy where my Soul calls.

I’m stepping into the light, in honesty.

And I look forward to sharing another transmission with you here, soon, when the feeling guides.

I love you. And I thank you for being here with me.

There is no hiding from the light. But, only from yourself.

We will talk again soon.

PS - If you are a paying subscriber, I would like to send you a handmade gift, to say thank you for all of your support. If you’re into it, please click the button below, and send me your address privately in an email, and I will send tokens this, and next week.

If you feel it’s time to pull your subscription, by all means go for it. I can’t promise a specific publishing schedule for the next phase of this project. But I do hope you’ll stick around to see how we evolve from here.