CONQUERING DENIAL
E-Mail BY Bobby Neble Bio/Address
One of the hardest obstacles I've ever encountered is my addiction to drugs. It wasn't so much the fact that I was hooked on them, but rather it was my continued state of denial and self-destruction that accompanied my addiction. Despite all the warning signs waving in the air and the pleas from those that cared, I never once entertained the thought that I actually had a problem.
Vulnerable and open to any new outlet of adventure or change, my introduction to drugs came young and easily. I was brought up primarily by a grandmother and various aunts and uncles who had no idea of the depth of my involvement with drugs. Being the youngest in the neighborhood, and smaller, I sought friendship and guidance from the older kids. Regardless of the consequences, I'd go out of my way in order to impress them. Nothing was too scary or too dangerous for me. My entire mind-set orchestrated to fit in and be accepted.
"Bobby, ever done any weed?" Those words, spoken by Darren—the oldest and most influential—still haunt me to this day. Never before had I done marijuana, but I wouldn't admit it to Darren. From that point on, my addiction would continue to grow, eventually getting to the point where it was controlling my whole life, my entire existence.
For many years the feeling of being in an altered state of consciousness from a wide variety of drugs became norm. I had trouble getting motivated each day without that first good "hit" or snort. Simple tasks became great burdens and my attitude horrible.
The harder the drug, the higher I'd get--the more intense my experience. My personality would be that much more outspoken. However, with each new "high" there came a deeper "low". I had to do more and harder drugs each time to capture the previous feeling of enjoyment, I had to. While I was under the influence of drugs, I would feel as if I was on top of the world with nothing to fear. The truth was, I was in a constant whirlwind of denial and totally incapable of accepting reality.
No addiction is without consequence. Mine was no different. The drugs were expensive and in order to feed the growing beast inside of me, I resorted to a life of crime. A few days shy of my nineteenth birthday that life came to a screeching halt. I was sentenced to two terms of ninety-nine years for a string of robberies.
Removed from society and surrounded by some of the worst people imaginable, it's inevitable that you reflect back on your life and try to reason out the right and wrongs of your actions. I fought against it. I still refused to admit that I had a problem with drugs. The denial remained in control. It had just assumed a different disguise.
Instead of drugs, I utilized violence and anger to fit in and be recognized. I came to prison with a negative attitude and I allowed myself to get caught up in the worse possible element there is in prison, the gangs.
I joined one of the more widely known prison gangs and went right to work trying to prove that I could be better than everyone else. I went out of my way to impress the people around me with violence and used weapons to hurt people I didn't even know. The emptiness in my life had just expanded. Denial was at its prime. Denial derailed any attempts I halfheartedly made at rehabilitation. I had gradually replaced the neighborhood "role models" with the seasoned convicts around me. And I replaced the drugs with violence.
I remain unaware of exactly what it was that prompted me to review my life and realize that the emptiness —that void—could be filled with something besides drugs or violence. What I do know is that the first step in finding a suitable replacement came while I was enduring a stint in solitary confinement for attacking another prisoner for the gang I had joined. This attack added to an attempted escape ended up getting me ten more years. I was sitting in that solitary cell with a 119-year sentence with nothing to show for my life but some deep and dark scars.
My sudden awareness of my situation wasn't a big life-shattering transformation, but I did feel as if I had touched upon something deep inside of me and I wanted to explore the possibility of bringing it to the surface. After my decision had been made, I needed to discover what it was that propelled me in such a negative mode. The breakthrough came when I realized that my entire youth had been lived in denial. The drugs, crime and anger were all manifestations on my denial. A denial refused to accept reality, responsibility and the concept of authority.
Here I was at twenty-five years old sitting in that damp and dark solitary cell. Finally, I was able to loosen denial's stranglehold on me. I was able to see that my life had been lived without any true meaning or purpose. I asked the age old questions to the walls of my cell, "Why am T here? What is my purpose? Why me?" I never received any response, nor did I really expect one. However, something did happen. I began to view my life from a different perspective. No longer did I seek things simply for immediate satisfaction. Instead, I began to understand that a serious change was needed. Now I knew it was possible.
That day was over four years age. I'm still incarcerated and doing 119 years, but I have managed to pull away from the gang element and have begun the long and tedious process of getting my life back on track. Since that day, I've lived my life with a revived purpose and with a positive focus. My revamped spiritual awareness has been a blessing. It's not a flashy or outspoken spirituality. It's different. I'm different. On a daily basis and in practically everything that I do it's evident.
The void is still not completely filled and may never be. From time to time I have to chastise myself for words spoken in heated passion, but those outburst have become more and more infrequent. Temptation remains and will forever be there. However, I no longer allow denial to jump aboard. Belief in myself has allowed me to have tremendous faith in my spirituality. This in turn has helped me to overcome my addiction — and most importantly—my denial.
