Mini Autobiography Part 1 – Narcotics, Smoking, Alcohol Abuse and Suicide


I took my life for granted once. I used heavy narcotics for a short period of time. Marijuana, Cocaine, Ecstasy and smoked cigarettes by the pack on the daily, I have brushed with death 7 times and I am 26 years old. I started smoking marijuana in High School, and it wasn’t a big deal for me at the time. My grades started to slip and I became an alcoholic. I slowly sunk into depression. I even almost took my own life because of my decent into sadness.

I realize now that I had nothing to complain or be depressed about. I seriously just was lonely. People need to understand how it is to be alone. If you do not, understand how it feels to be truly alone you will never truly appreciate how it is to be near someone and have them in your company. I believe in an after life, call it what you will. A spirit world, heaven, or the other side. I have seen visions of my grandfathers, I don’t understand a world were a man is called crazy for his religion. Native spirituality is a religion. Pocahontas means tree talker. It also means little beaver.

It seems like people try and blame their problems on their circumstance, call it what you will men and women who blame others for the way there lives turn out don’t understand that they are the masters of their own domain. I’m not saying shit doesn’t happen, I’m just saying be a good person. Even the face of your own death do the right thing.

My Grandmother and Grandfather died of Emphysema, which is why they had trouble breathing in there later years.

I honestly fought it as hard as I could, and faced my fear. I didn’t keel over and die. I lived.

I walked out of that room. I nearly collapsed by the time I got to the end of the hallway. I saw my father standing there and he said: “come on boy.” I walked then I started to fall and all I saw were my father’s eyes. Then I crawled back to him. I was a 19-year-old man, and I have no shame in saying I crawled back to my father.

Too many young men and women loose their lives carelessly from the abuse of themselves. Self-mutilation is killing ones soul, if it hurts cry. We have been given tears to wash away pain from our eyes and our hearts.

I did enjoy a lot of my years, college was a lot of fun I made some great friends and memories. I learned not to take the moments we hold dear for granted. Simplicity is truly grand; do not put the weight of the world on your shoulders. To be honest I was just an idiot. I used to compare myself to James Dean and lived out scenes from Rebel without a Cause with my parents. I took their love for granted. James Dean was no hero, and he sure as shit was no Rebel. He was no saint either, and I’m not talking about being a homosexual.

I turned to drugs, started with Ketamine and moved onto Cocaine. I started to slip at this point and dropped out of school. I drank till I couldn’t move, pissed my pants and vomited all over myself several times. I was a complete mess. I lost grip with myself.

I moved back home when I was 21, and lost control of my life. I was $7000 dollars in debt, and I thought I had problems. I treated my parents like garbage, master bated to an unhealthy amount of pornography and was a general low-life but a man can change his stars.

I did terrible misdeeds to myself, I cut my wrists, I scared my chest and I plunged a knife into my heart. The only reason I’m still alive is because of the love of my family and friends. I never truly wanted death, I just wanted help. There is no shame in asking for help.

I was sent to a mental institution for my crime of attempted suicide. Not only a crime against the state but against God. It literally felt like I was stuck between heaven and hell. That god was pissed off that I almost threw away the greatest gift I was ever given. I was taken to the hospital and sewn up and told that it was an exterior wound. I felt like I had nicked my heart, the only thing that actually saved my life was the fact that I was sedated. When I woke up there were literally chunks of my heart in a piss bucket in the corner of my cell. Honestly I must have an angel watching over me because I believe that I truly faced death that night and it was at my own hand. I truly didn’t want to die.

A lot of very beautiful human beings are mistreated told they are abominations. Fags, and abused and ultimately forgotten. I was none of these things but I still became depressed with the things I wasn’t getting. I learned that you need to be happy with what you do have.

For 72 hours I was on a form one, which instates that by law I was not allowed to leave the Mental hospital for that period of time. I refused to sign anything and due to this course became angered and frightened. They then put me on a form two, which instated that I was to remain there for 2 weeks.

While I was in there I had a lot of mental issues. I feared myself and everyone else around me. I even compared myself to Jesus. At one point I was lying in bed and I heard a voice say you want to know what it feels like to be all alone, the entire building was empty the T.V. lost all signal and I was locked in all by myself. I felt like I was the last man on earth, it was one of the most terrifying feelings in the world.

I felt truly alone, and it was an awful feeling. I was scared out of my wits until I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was one of the nurses saying, “Ryan is everything alright.” All of a sudden the lights turned back on, the television came back on and everyone was back in the building. I know to most of you this would sound honestly insane. However, I see it as a wake up call.

I refused to take any medications and was rushed by 5 men. I put one of them against the wall and pulled him to the ground. I then apologized, and in the midst was lifted and stripped of all my clothing except my boxers. Thrown down on a map in a padded room called the pick unit and my boxers were pulled down and I was injected with a sedative. My heart stopped beating.

I realized a lot of things when I woke up; I clearly was a blessed man for one. I didn’t even eat the food that was given to me when I woke up on the floor beside me.

~I love my Father and my Mother~

Ryan John Patterson “Little Buck”

to be continued…