Narconon Changed my Life
When I was born in 1958 nobody had an inkling of how bad it would go for me, and that I would die a few times before everything turned out alright.
I grew up in a small town just outside of Kalundborg by Røsnæs in a completely ordinary Danish family. Raising a boy with my temper consisted mostly of threats, the occasional beating and other forms of punishment, both at home and in school. I was very much alone throughout my early life, as I did not feel like I could confide in anyone, without risking more beatings and threats. In school, the concepts of personal integrity and self-esteem were unfortunately not taught. Morals and ethics were something that was beaten into the head of children, and drugs were something all young people would experiment with at a certain time, according to the “experts” in that field.
So that’s what I did, experimented, big time! I went to hell and a bit further than that. The drugs I experimented with were in order: alcohol, hash, speed, heroin and in the end any possible mix of these. After just a few years I was trapped, and anything that could kill my thoughts, make me forget and make my body stop shaking, I took. Starting in 1975 and ending in 2001, from “I have it under control” to the insane. I never discovered how or when!
My mother and father wanted to help so much, but they had no idea what they were up against. Slowly but surely, the people I cared about started to turn away, and my only “friend” was the drugs, and oh how they betrayed me. Only well paid people showed any “interest” in me and my doings, and only for very limited periods, so my life went by with getting the next drugs, finding a vein to shoot it in, find some more drugs, take it and hope to pass out, wake up, get some drugs, find a place to take it, etc. etc.…
Several times I woke up hanging by the arms between two buddies, as they dragged me down the street. Or I would wake up in a bathtub, fully clothed, as cold water is splashing on me, not to mention the times where I woke up to the sound of the siren from the ambulance or in a hospital bed.
Then one day in a mall I meet an old buddy who shouldn’t be alive, and he tells me about Narconon. A treatment center which is different than the others, and he hands me a flier the size of a business card, and tells me that I can just call them to talk. As I don’t want my old friend to see me so miserable and pathetic, I listen politely and make my head nod once in a while, all the while I’m thinking where to pawn the frozen piece of veal that I’m hiding under my shirt, “sponsored” by the supermarket, and I end up putting the flier in my back pocket, not knowing that it would change my life completely, in the best way.
That became the point where I contacted Narconon and the beginning of my life, and my parents’ peace of mind. Today I am so happy for my life. I almost have a tingling feeling in my stomach when I wake up to a new day, as if it was my first date, and there’s not a soul today I would trade with, especially not when I look upon my daughter that I got the same year I turned 50. “My life is your dream.”
F.P.N. Narconon graduate
