An Introduction to Darkness

At twenty-two years old, Evan found himself addicted to methamphetamine and the lifestyle associated with manufacturing. Even as he sat across from me and talked about his journey into this dark world and back, he struggled to make sense of it and resist the elusive hold it seemed to have on him. As he spoke, I wondered if remembering his journey would lure him back. He didn't just talk about shooting up. He opened sugar packets in the restaurant and put them in a spoon. He didn't just describe preparing the right amount of meth. He poured sugar on the table, slicing the powder into thin, equally sized lines.

Evan: I was involved, but it was a lie, you know. I thought it was ... I thought I was a big man when I was selling it and usin it and stuff.

Q: Was it like an illusion?

Evan: Yeah. It was ... What can I compare it to? I don't know. It's incomparable. Just like if someone handed you a stack of a bundle of hundred dollar bills or something, and you thought, "Wow, thanks, ten thousand dollars," and then you looked, and only the top one was real ... All the money, all the, feeling important about having it, all the money that you get from it, it all goes right back into it, so you don't actually get anything out, all that power, is just people wantin what you have and it's dangerous, you know. At first, I could only remember the good times I had on it, but I've started being able to see it all now and think, "No," I think, "Well, was that good times?" But that wasn't good times at all. That was probably the lowest part of my life. That wasn't the fun times. I don't want to live that again.

During the course of the interview, I asked Evan multiple times if this was too much. If remembering and recalling the life he had once lived was somehow too powerful and seductive, strong enough to entice him back to the life he had escaped — and to using meth. I never anticipated the issue prior to this moment. There seemed to be a danger in remembering, in reliving the experience, in talking about what he gave up. The methamphetamine. The manufacturing. The money. The sex. The addiction. The power.

Toward the end of the interview Evan pulled off his ball cap, and I saw the misshapen part of his left temple. I didn't quite understand until he said:

Evan: Yes, it was killing me. It was, it was killing me. I couldn't stop doing it. I got so addicted to it that it just took over everything else. I don't feel like I'm a liar, or a thief, or violent, or untrustworthy or dishonest, but I was then ... it's really strong, it, it took my whole life over, and it took anything that mattered to me, [everything] took a back seat to it. That was it. It was anything I could do, whatever I had to do to get it, I would do it. I couldn't stop doing it. I could not stop doing it, and I got really depressed. I couldn't see the good anymore. I just couldn't see. I had a gun, a pistol, because I didn't want anybody tryin' to rob me or come in my home and hurt me or my family, and I started having thoughts of suicide. And, I mentioned to my wife, and she kinda just acted like I was just tryin to get some attention or anything. "Oh shut up about that." I was serious. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't feel like I could talk to anybody about it and, I didn't feel like I had any friends anymore, only customers. And I ...

Q: This was when you were heavy into meth?

Evan: Oh, yeah. I couldn't stop doing it. I was more addicted than anybody I knew. There were some friends of mine that would not come around me because I was too gone. And, on March the eleventh of 1997, I took the nine millimeter and put it in my mouth and fired it. And I shot the top of my head off. [He points to the places where plates are.] And this is a metal plate, this is a metal plate, this is a metal plate, and so is this, and this is where they don't come together, and if you'll look at the roof of my mouth, there's a very small hole from the bullet. [He opens his mouth and shows me the hole.] And they had to remove a third, that's what happened to my teeth, the recoil when it went into my mouth. They had to remove a third of my brain from bone splinters. And I was in the hospital for almost six months, and I wasn't supposed to live. And I, I lived. And I stopped using methamphetamine.

He stopped for a period of time. However, shooting himself in the head wasn't enough to stop completely. It wasn't enough to escape the grip meth had on him. He got back into the lifestyle and started using again, only later finding his way back out once more. And here he sat before me — clean for five years, clean for now.

The illusion of methamphetamine is that it gives you everything you've ever wanted. The truth of the tragedy is that it takes everything you have. It destroys lives.

There is darkness in the deepest depths of the world of methamphetamine. There is no light in the pits of despair that overtake those who become seduced by meth and all it seems to offer. In these corners of reality, those who find themselves immersed beyond control come face to face with the darkness that permeates this world. It is blackness at its very core; something not comprehendible to those who have never known it. It is here, in the deepest levels of the world, that the tragic power of methamphetamine lies. It is the point at which all bets are off. Where there is no turning back — no resetting of the clock, no erasing of time. It is the point at which they cease to be who they always were and truly are. For some, it is a point of no return.

Those who become enthralled are forced to confront a hard-core reality: there is only one way to survive this murky and dangerous world — by meeting darkness with darkness. It is the reality lived by those who told me their stories; they were among those who survived — the few who escaped. They lived to tell about it. But it was not by chance.

They survived because they did what they had to do, no matter how damaging and destructive. They visited edges and corners of reality where few ever go. It is a place from which some never return and even fewer ever admit to. They shared what they had seen, experienced, and participated in, so that we would know. They shared it so that you would know. It is by every measure the essence of the truth of the tragedy that is methamphetamine.

In lieu of judgment, I challenge you to appreciate the opportunity provided to see what goes on in the deepest corners of the world of methamphetamine. I challenge you to respect their honesty and appreciate their willingness to share some of the most tragic and soul-crushing experiences of their lives. It is critical that we see things as they really are. The fact that they were willing to admit to some of...