My beginning on this journey in which I am still onward bound began on October 12th, 1981 when I was born in the bathroom floor of my parents' former home in Canoga Park, CA. No, you do not need to ask; yes, I was named John due to the fact that I was indeed born in their bathroom. My parents have always had an ironic sense of humor.
Both of my parents were of the Christian faith, and so it was in this faith that I was raised. I always loved my parents, still do, but growing up in a religious household instilled what I would later come to realize as typical teenage resentment toward authority. I rebelled in the obvious ways one would expect; refusing to go to church, listening to the types of music I knew would annoy my parents, experimenting with mild drugs such as marijana, smoking cigarettes, drinking occasionally. Obviously I'm not speaking of water. Looking back now, I realize they were petty, idiotic choices of an immature young man (as if I'm an old man now, though at times I feel as such!) looking for something to fill a void in my life created by something that was done to me from the ages of 6 to 8 by an individual whom my well being was entrusted every day at school. It was around the age of 16 that I became immersed in the occult.
My involvement in the occult began at first as typical teenage dabbling, and quickly grew into being a serious practitioner. An amalgamation of Luciferianism, Palo Mayombe, Thelema, and elements of Santeria. It was also around this same time, not that I am in any way relating the two, that I began using harder drugs. Prescription pain killers and muscle relaxants, heroin, and heavy drinking. It was the latter rather than the former that wound end ending the relationship with my then partner in life, though the catalyst for such began on the night of July 4th, 2001, when a horrific and tragic event that served as the beginning of a change that took place in me occurred.
Though she and I lived together, I would occasionally drive home to my parents' house to spend a few days with them. On the evening of July 4th, 2001, I did just that. Due to an argument she and I had, I left the home my partner and I were living at a few minutes earlier then planned. I made the 15 minute drive to my parent's house, spent some time with them, and went to bed. When I awoke, I turned on the morning news as I always do, to find out that a close acquaintance of mine's car was found on the same freeway offramp I had exited off of, no more than 10 minutes after I had used the exit. Her car was bullet riddled, the ending running, and she was missing. After an agonizing month, she was found dead, her body dumped in a ravine; she had been ambushed by the notorious Simi Valley Rapist, shot with an AK-47, kidnapped, raped, and dumped in the ravine alive. It took her 48 hours to bleed to death. The fact that, at the time, I used to carry a .357 under my car seat, and had I left my partner and mine's home when I planned to instead of a few minutes earlier, I was plagued and tormented by the guilt of not knowing if, had I been there, I could of done anything.
After months went by, the drug and alcohol use intensified. In 2002 my partner finally had enough and we mutually, and quite amicabally, seperated. After her I went through a series of brief relationships, the last of which began in 2004 and ended in 2005. To make a long story short, she too was using heroin, as well as meth, a drug I never have been able to stand, and had quite convincingly lied to me that she hadn't used either in over a year. Three months into her pregnancy, she miscarried due to her continuing heroin and methamphetamine usage. Needless to say, my split from her was not amicable and I again turned to hard drugs and alcohol to numb myself from the painful realities surrounding me.
In 2005, I was bedridden with a severe case of the flu. I literally felt as if I were dying, and began to pray. A prayer of desperation to Anyone that was listening. As I layed there for two days, praying and begging not to die, to recover, I finally felt a warmth in my heart; an utter calm and peace, and felt the words being spoken directly to my being. Not audible, but internal: "Your world is a cesspool; an affront to My name. The lake of fire is the death of the soul." I didn't need to hear any more than that, it was a wake up call that I had to clean my life up, physically and spiritually, or when I truly am on my death bed, I really am not going to enjoy where my soul transitions to after my earthly vessel ceases to exist.
So, after six years of trying my hardest to walk the clean, narrow, and good path, I still find myself struggling, as all human beings do. But I now know that I am not alone, I don't have to turn to foreign substances to dull my internal pain. I do still require pain medication from time to time, due to a chronic pain condition all the past drug and alcohol use caused. Oh, the irony of all ironies! But the most important part is that I have learned from my mistakes, and hopefully can help others learn from mine as well.
