How to be more responsible
Life is short. Why make it shorter? by L.A. Nik
None of us are worth anything without others. We have to respect and care for others in order to fulfill our lives. Everything we do has a consequence that can affect others either in a positive or negative way.
This was a hard lesson for me to learn, but I did – it just took a while.
You may not know me, but others can attest to the fact that when I’ve only had $10 in my pocket, I’ve given $5 of it to someone else who needed it more.
It’s the Power of Responsibility.
We are all responsible for our own lives. If on your death bed, you have nothing but regrets, then the only person you have to blame is yourself.
Did you work at the same job for twenty years only to have your salary increase by $3 an hour?
Change it up!
It’s your responsibility to change your job or career. It’s not your boss’ fault. It’s not your mate’s fault.
It’s yours.
Your actions and inactions have consequences. It’s up to you to be responsible to understand and deal with them as they happen
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One of my first lessons about responsibility and consequences happened in 1987. was touring the Bahamas with my girlfriend at the time. When I stepped off the plane onto a dirt field, there was a huge crowd of people cheering, “MTV! MTV!”
That’s what they called me there.
We drove to this restaurant and inside the place was the same crowd of people that saw us get off the plane. As soon as we walked in, one guy walked up to me and said, “Wanna do some cocaine?”
I didn’t see the harm, so I went in and did a few lines. All of a sudden the door was kicked in and there are people yelling, shoving others around, and zip-tying all the people together. They were daisy-chained together like a Christmas decoration. No one was going anywhere.
I saw the owner of the club and said to him, “Hey, my girl and I were just using the bathroom. We just got here.” They must have believed me so they let us go. The owner whispered, “Just go. Go far away.”
My girlfriend chimed in and said, “Hey the keys to the motorcycle are in the helmet. It’s on a table in the club!” The owner wanted us out. “Look, come back later. Just get out of here now,” He said.
So we left and came back four hours later. The next thing I know, I’m being zip tied with my hands behind my back, walked out to a van, and driven to jail. In order to process me, they asked for my driver’s license. Mine was from Delaware and they had no idea what or where Delaware was. It took another half-hour for me to explain that it was in the United States and not too far from New York.
“New York!” they yelled to one another. The must have figured that they had some rich American in their midst.
They didn’t.
Once processed, they took me down to the jail cell. It wasn’t an American jail like you see on television.
Fuck no.
This was a Bahamian jail.
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| It was during this period of L.A. Nik's life that he took a break from his band to visit the Bahamas. |
The path to my (L.A. Nik's) cell was a dark, damp, dank hallway underneath the building with dirt floors. Wordlessly, they pushed me in my cell. It didn’t have bars, instead it had flat slats of steel that looked like a bunch of butter knives lined up next to each other.
I couldn’t see a thing.
There was no sunlight, no plumbing, and definitely no bed. Just these metal slats and a dirt floor and the voices from the cells saying, “Hey! Put him in here!”
I didn’t want any part of that.
I had no concept of time in my 4’ x 4’ pitch black home. Twice a day they give me a cup of water and a rock-hard roll. A man with an English accent in the cell next to me said, “Take a sip of water and put the roll in the cup of remaining water to soften it up enough to eat.”
He was right.
It was disgusting. The water was as clear as weak coffee. I figured I had to eat something. Once I lit a match and saw thousands of cockroaches scurrying around me. After that, I didn’t move and never lit a match again.
The corner of the cell became my toilet. I spent hours sitting in the middle of the floor with nothing on my mind except the worry of what happened to my girlfriend. I had all the money and our ID’s – which were now in the hands of the police.
She had nothing.
She was alone.
It was my fault.
After four days, I was escorted out of the dirt floor cell to a small car. I had no idea what was coming next. My imagination was running wild as I’d seen way too much television to think this was going to have a happy ending. In a few minutes, I noticed a small seaplane floating on the water. Waiting there next to the plane was my girlfriend.
Nothing looked so good in my entire life than what was before me at that very moment.
She told me she went to the US Embassy and asked for help. I have no idea how she did it or what she did – all I know is that we were heading home. A few hours later, we landed in Biscayne Bay.
We were home.
Living life like a rock star has its consequences. I accepted that. Though the experience scared the shit out of me, I’ve been back to the Bahamas many times since. I often wonder if my cell is occupied by some other guy like me who was not thinking about the consequences of his actions and how they affect those you love.
Life is about consequences.
However, it’s pretty simple. If you don’t want to have to deal with consequences, then don’t do anything. Just sit on your couch and stare at the wall and wait to die.
But if you really think about it, there are consequences for inaction too.
You can’t go through life, meet people, and follow your dreams without making mistakes and fucking up. You will make mistakes! The point is learning from those mistakes and being able to move past them.
I went back to the Bahamas, but I never went to jail again. I only had to experience that once to know I was never going to get myself in that situation again!
It didn’t stop me from doing drugs though.
That’s a lesson and consequence I didn’t learn until several years later.
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Even though my time in the Bahamian jail was horrific, I learned my lesson. I never again spent another second in any jail cell.
You have to learn from the times when you’ve been given a second chance. If you do something stupid and dangerous and you look back and think, “I was lucky. I should have died.” That’s a lesson.
You don’t get a second chance like that again. Some people think they’re invincible and will push the envelope. Some people do get away with it over and over again. But I guarantee it, eventually the second, third, or fourth chances come to an end and the piper has to be paid.
You will get caught.
You’ll get caught by the cops and end up in jail. Or your marriage will end or you’ll lose your job. Or worse yet, you’ll lose yourself. And your world, as you know it, will fall apart.
It’s a fact.
The longer you get away with something and the longer you believe you won’t get caught, the harder you’ll fall. The worse the consequences will be. Just when you get used to your bad behavior – driving drunk, cheating on your mate, stealing from your company, whatever it is. When you get yourself to a point where the bad behavior becomes a daily habit and it becomes your way of life, the harder the harder and longer your fall will be. Eventually you will lose everything.
If you don’t do right by yourself and those around you, your life will crash and burn. And the longer you get away with it, the more you’ll have to lose overnight. It’s happened to me and I’ve seen it happen to so many others.
You can never be on top forever. And if you reached the top by stepping on everyone else to get there, you will fall that much farther. When you do fall, there won’t be anyone there to catch you.
I’ve been given a second chance and it changed me forever.
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Now that I’m older, I understand that I have to answer for everything I do. If someone tells you that you will die tomorrow, what will you think about?
More than likely you will think of all of the bad things that have happened in your life.
“Why didn’t I do this?”
“Why didn’t I do that?”
“Why did I treat my wife so poorly?”
Instead of living your life with regret, live your life responsibly. I am certain that we all are held responsible for our actions – even to ourselves.
Think before you act.
Think about the consequences of everything you do and say.
Prevent the regrets from even starting in the first place.
Then, when someone tells you that you are going to die tomorrow, instead of thinking about the bad, you can think about the good.
“I’m so glad I did that.”
“I’m so glad I met her.”
“I’ve lead a good life.”
The good thing is that everything can be fixed – if you address it head-on. If you try to avoid your mistakes (and not take responsibility for them) the mistakes grow. They become worse. They affect more people.
Do not run.
Do not hide.
Don’t do what I did.
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I knew that taking the coke in the Bahamas was a stupid thing to do. I put my girlfriend’s well-being at risk. I put my own life at risk too. But I didn’t’ learn my lesson for quite some time.
Most people do not come back from where I was. Most end up in the morgue as a result of a massive over-dose. I dipped my foot in the lava and luckily I had enough sense to pull it back out. I realized I had to become responsible and accept the consequences for what I had become.
I was living in Los Angeles at the time. Most of my friends snorted their coke. Not me. I smoked it. I was on a quest for the constant orgasm. A quest that was as fruitless as looking for the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow – it doesn’t exist.
But I was determined to keep looking.
I knew that I had hit rock bottom though when I found myself alone in my house. That in itself wasn’t odd – lots of people can be alone in their homes at one time or another. What was odd was the condition of my home. And me.
I was close to death, I’m sure of it.
In a few days I would have been on a stainless steel table in the LA County morgue and some nameless person would have written my obituary.
But I was given a second chance. I was in a comfortable state of hatred and finally realized that I had to change. I had to crawl out of that hole or die.
Every appliance, anything that made the smallest hum, the slightest noise, was unplugged.
All of my windows were closed and covered with every blanket or towel I owned. I couldn’t stand the light and any breeze that came through them made too much noise. I couldn’t look at the trees outside because I was certain they were really people trying to spy on me.
The day I hit rock bottom, I was sitting on my living room floor in my underwear.
Sweating.
Trembling.
It was the middle of the California summer so the house was at least ninety degrees – the air conditioner made too much noise so I had turned that off weeks before.
I had my pipe in my left hand.
I had a gun in my right.
I was shaking so badly, I couldn’t hold either the pipe or the gun steady. I was barely able to focus my eyes, but I kept my concentration on the doorknob of the front door. I waited for it to turn. I was sure the CIA was going to try to take my pipe away. And I didn’t want to share.
I’m not sure how it happened, but I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was like I was looking at myself from the outside. I saw this pathetic creature lying on the floor, wasting his life. My pipe was next to my head and my gun was still in my hand.
That event changed my life.
I decided to live.
I accepted responsibility for my past, took it head on, and have never touched drugs again. I didn’t go to rehab. I did everything myself.
I haven’t had a single relapse.
I’ve just decided to live.
Now my life is nothing less than spectacular.
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Imagine that life is an amusement park filled with all of the best roller coasters. You get to pick one to ride – each lasts five minutes. To make the ride last, you have to wear your seatbelt. Sure, the ride may be more thrilling if you don’t strap yourself in, but it will be over after the first loop!
Life is like that roller coaster. Why make the ride shorter by doing stupid things!
My eulogy won’t be written by some unnamed individual. I’ve already written it.
“Thanks everyone! That was bad ass!”
by L.A. Nik
