The Truth Behind The Lies

The next step in the healing is to examine the character defects that allowed addiction, and that enabled me to lie to myself, to the world, about who I was and what I was doing behind closed doors at home, at work and at parties.

I sometimes wonder if we’re really able to lie to ourselves, and if the disgust at the creatures we have become in our addiction drives us further in, seeking shelter from the rage we dole out against ourselves. But I think that makes us sound nobler than we are, as we soar downwards to rock-bottom.

Me, Steve Briggs and the late Matt Stewardson at the 2008 year-end bash 
Matthew Stewardson was a school mate. He was also a celeb, or as we now call them in South Africa, ZA-lebs. Matthew came from an acting family, and kicked off his TV career when we were just 13, in standard six, in 1988. In 2001 Matt was fired from Idols South Africa because of his cocaine addiction, and soon announced his million-rand addiction to South Africa. In 2008, we hired Matty to perform for us at the company year-end bash. Matt and I both regaled each other on how fantastic it was to be free of drugs, both of us kept running into each other on the way to or from the loo, that night, both of us looked each other in the eye and swore we were stone-cold sobre. Neither admitted the truth to each other. Matthew died in 2010, on a beach, in the sun, aged 36, from heart failure.

If I had to tag this photo with ONE descriptor, 

it would 



I look back on these pics, 


the past few years,

 and ones like these are 

so poignant: 

the camera shows you such a calm version 

of me. 

Loving, with arms wrapped around a friend. 

Yet by this 

stage – despite what my 

original Facebook 


of this pic tells you, 

when I posted it, that 

glisten has 


to do with the humidity 



with my body 

trying to survive – I can tell

you now, 

that by the stage this pic was taken, 

I had 

lost the sense of smell, 

nose clogged on so much cat 

three grams, at least

– and I had already finished 


than a half of a bottle of tequila 

and a whole bottle of 


Only two people knew the truth that night, 

among hundreds present, 

and even then those two 

knew so 

little of the truth. Look behind those eyes, 


placid, and see the monster beneath. 

He’s dead now, R.I.P. Addiction, 

may your 

soullessness go in peace.


I am no celebrity, I am more inanity  – but before you mollycoddle me for self-abasement, hear me out. Though I lacked the celeb status, I didn’t lack the shameless self-promotion. Own the spotlight? Dear, I DEFINED the spotlight, and screw you if that didn’t suit your lifestyle – it was all about me; still is. I cracked the one-bar addiction cost sometime last year, and to date, have spent about R1.3-million on drugs and associated habits – that I can remember, or can look at bank statements and say, “YES, that ATM withdrawal of R4,000 at 2am, that was for crystal meth…”

By some divine intervention, by some merciless mercy, I have not had a heart-attack on a beach. I am still very much here, though I did make a good attempt in December NOT to be. Seems Heaven doesn’t want me and Hell is afraid I’ll take over – a joke I used for years, that unfortunately holds true, today.

I am forced into what some may see as a personal hell, through sobriety having to examine the past 18 years and consider my sins. I don’t experience this as hell, rather quite the opposite, as I think “FUUUUCK! I survived THAT and still, my fortune has turned, I am a free man, in all aspects, I have a good job, a loving family, and am rebuilding my life! THIS is HEAVEN!” These days, I quickly attach clauses of humility and debasement of arrogance, by way of insurance.

Currently I have to examine the defects of character that caused or aided my addiction. Dishonesty was a problem. Actually, that TOO is a lie. I had NO problem with dishonesty, and could run a deep and meaningful tract of dishonesty out into the world before 8am, without batting an eyelid. The problem was honesty. I eschewed honesty in favour of its ugly step-sister. HER I could deal with; SHE I became bedfellow to. WE became ONE. At some point I became the lies, which became me.

So in this journey, right now, I am going through my Facebook photos – a shameless self-promoter like me has a thousand pics of myself, just on Facebook alone, and there are those, like the one up on the left, that reek of dishonesty. If you’re following me on Facebook, you’ll see them popping up over the next short while, with the TRUTH UPDATE tags.

Why? Warning? Confession? Both. Both are good for my soul, and it needs all the help it can get, at the moment.

Good thing I’m so good at punting my needs.

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