"From Hatred to Radiance: The Alchemy of Transformation"

[My involvement with hateful prison gang members and how I escaped]

Show me a grown Man who initially, without experiencing it, says they're not afraid of living on the streets, heading up state to the penitentiary, having a bounty on their head due to ripping off dope dealers, or any myriad of other common certainties one will eventually face as a result of addiction(if they play the game long enough), I'll show you a lying pussy-ass little boy. I know, for far too many years I was that little boy. I told the world I ain't worried about shit, keeping up this fake glorified gangster-badass persona that, unbeknownst to me, only personified my already glaring weaknesses and lack of heart. I was a tough guy in drug/organized crime circles, yet I was a scared, weak-ass pussy at home. Yes I use the term "scared weak-ass pussy," instead of "sick, lost, disabled, etc.," because any other less offensive more politically correct term just doesn't cut it, giving me an "out" when it comes to owning my life, a mulligan which enables me to deflect true responsibility for my actions. Truth be told, I was fuckin' terrified. I was a whack, shell of a little boy. When I caught my first ever criminal case, a beautifully orchestrated DWI charged by the TEXAS A&M POLICE(which really pissed me off being a burnt orange bleeding Longhorn), I silently cried in the cop car, then on the phone to my parents, then to Gage Gandy bail bonds, weeping like a little bitch about how I was so scared and I would "never do it again." Oh by the way, I was 6'4 & 225 LBS of pure Testosterone/Dbol/Tren-fed beef at the time(I was really tough). A week later, I got caught rolling a nice fat Lebowski(mind if I do a J?) as well as "pourin up" some Pimp C(white folks, that stands for drinking Codeine laced cough syrup w/ Sprite) in my dorm room at Blinn Junior College which resulted in me being kicked off the football team. The same football team that would go on to win the National Championship the following semester with a guy named Cameron Newton slingin' the tater(maybe you've heard of him?). The same team where I would have been the #2 quarterback filled in a land that had more D-1 scouts at practices and games than any other JUCO in the free-world(and North Korea). Unless you're not too bright, or you're from College Station(IM KIDDINGG), you know where I'm going with this- the possibilities were endless. I'm talking SEC, southern belle sorority girls with more daddy-issues than money can buy, Johnny Manziel bags of cash for everyone on the team, oh yeah and some good football too(forgot).

A few years later, I linked up with some guys who ran in the same drug-ring/organized crime ring as I and quickly became part of "the family". These guys had a tendency to sport confederate flags on their trucks, found it necessary to get swastika tattoos on their necks, and generally reminded the non-Caucasian world how much they didn't care for them(they were really tough bro). Although I chose not to go the swastika-via-neck tat route, I decided that I absolutely needed to fit in with these guys in order to feel cool, so I settled for SS bolts on the chest over my heart(cuz that's fuckin brilliant). Funny enough(years later), one night while tweaking harder than a shorted-out light bulb, I decided I was going to remove this tat myself with my handy-dandy tweezers(as you can see below 🡫 it didn't go well). Don't smoke Meth kids. Shoot it, its way more efficient. Geez I'm kidding guys, don't do it period!

[5150] is a mental health crisis code commonly used to deem someone criminally insane, also a common tag of various other gangs.

To all my confused, wandering, daddy-issue having young Men out there- if you're going to get hate speech tatted on your body and you're not in prison, please go to a licensed shop, don't go to a run-down dope trailer and let homeboy with zero teeth and zero sleep in the last week use a guitar string attached to a shaving motor. Fuckin-A talk about institutionalized, "Live-Wire"(he put a lot of thought into that nickname) missed prison so much we had to remind him that normal people in everyday society don't accept ramen soups, stamps and tobacco as forms of payment. It was actually quite hilarious.

[Spiderweb Elbow] tattoos generally represent someone who has done jail/prison time, engages in organized crime, or were caught up in "the system".

Looking back, after years of reflection, what stings the most about these unfortunate decisions I chose to make is not the actual act of getting these horrible symbols inked on my body(although it makes me cringe). What stings the most is realizing how lost, confused, alone, and empty I was, how depraved my life had become, that I had reached a place where these are the lengths I was willing to go to find validation, comradery, and belonging, or at least what I thought I was finding. In my convoluted, spiritually bankrupt, emotionally weak mind- this is what made sense. This, in my opinion, is the real tragedy. Anyone who knows me or has spent 5 minutes with me can attest with complete certainty that these 🡡 🡢

things are not who I am, not what I stand for, and don't even come close to what defines me. However, at the time, that was what was in my heart. That, in my opinion, is what hurts the most. Years later in therapy I would come to the realization that, subconsciously, I did all I could to present the world with this outwardly big, tough, intimidating figure who no one in their right mind would want anything to do with, not because I felt tough(though I didn't know that), but because I was insulating myself from being hurt any further in life. I felt so horrible about myself, (partly due to the massive amounts of pain from hands that were dealt to me and partly due to pain from my own hands I dealt myself)my spirit couldn't take anymore rejection so I subconsciously removed the opportunity for anyone or anything to hurt me. Anger, rage, hate- they are all secondary emotions folks. It all comes back to fear. I was afraid of being rejected- so I struck you before you could potentially strike me, removing your ability to hurt me first. I was afraid of being less than- so I showed the world how superior I was with my hateful tattoos. I was afraid of being judged- so I surrounded myself with equally hurt people who would cosign my actions. ITS ALL CONNECTED FOLKS! If you are someone who scoffs at the thought of emotions, therapy and getting to the "root" of you're behavior, I beg you to give it a second thought. It can change your quality of life ten-fold., it has for me at least.

Notice on the right where it says, "Discharged Probation". After the initial prognosis from my court appointed lawyer, I went on to hire Gene Anthes, a complete rock-star of an attorney. He fought like hell for me and was able to eventually get me an offer of PROBATION(which I screwed up a couple times), a complete miracle in my opinion. Although I would go on to catch more cases, with less favorable outcomes, this was still a miracle nonetheless.

Eventually, I would manage to "catch" my first Felony case- Possession of a controlled substance(heroin) 1-4 grams w/ intent to deliver, a glorious 2nd degree Felony in the State of Texas which comes with a sweet, cuddly sentencing range of 2-20 years in the Texas Department of Corrections. Fuck-me-running. Remember that weak-ass crying bitch from earlier? He was still there. I can vividly remember the day I called my Aunt, driving around during my lunch break from work in December 2013, absolutely weeping my eyes out crying, "Aunt Tammy, I don't want to go to prison, I don't want to go to prison, I don't want to go to prison!" I had just managed to bond out of county jail after a month, my case was pending, and my lawyer at the time told me to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for the penitentiary. Frank Ivy- my court appointed lawyer at the time, sat me down and said, "Son, I've been doing this for 40 years. You were caught red-handed selling Heroin [during the beginning of the opiate epidemic], in the commission of kicking down the door of a private citizen with the intent of robbing them. You're going down, plain and simple. I can probably swing 2-4 years, but that's gonna be an uphill battle." You can see why I cried like a bitch to my Aunt. You see, everyone's tough until they got a Smith & Wesson pointed at them, or until they're staring down the barrel of a penitentiary sentence, then, as we say on the street, they suddenly become infected "with that Sally syndrome"(bitch behavior), I know I did at least.

I would go on to catch more cases, with more consequences, supplemented with more pain, etc. Most people who aren't familiar with addiction don't understand how someone can continue to ruin their life even in the midst of such dire consequences such as prison, homelessness, etc. Well Normies, this is the mind-fuck of addiction. Allow me to break it down for you(cupid shuffle version).

The recovery text which I myself and millions of others in recovery follow states that their are 3 types of drinkers/drug users. The first type is referred to as "The Moderate drinker/user." This is the person who drinks and gets high like Santa is coming to town this evening, yet when they are faced with sufficient reason to stop(DWI, loss of job, etc.) they are able to quit(assholes). The 2nd type is referred to as "The Hard Drinker/User". This type also gets down like Santa is on his way this evening and even in the midst of some consequences(DWI, loss of Job, loss of Relationships) they continues to drink/use. HOWEVER(at some point), "given sufficient reason", they can and will stop. Now, the 3rd type. We are referred to as "The Alcoholic/Addict". We are special enough to be part of the "club within the club". Some call us Mad Dog's(hell yeah bruh). Our asses see a category 5 hurricane on the horizon, coupled with fire breathing dragons bearing down on us, along with the usual consequences such as penitentiary sentences, disease, Armageddon(not too heavy), and we tell ourselves, "Fuck I bet I can get to the liquor store/dope house before it gets too bad." We cannot stop, despite sufficient reason clearly presenting itself. We have lost the power of choice. Now, to be clear, this "lack of choice" refers to ONCE WE START drinking/using. It doesn't mean I walk through Wal-Mart sober today and suddenly a beer opens itself and jumps into my stomach, or a syringe full of dope jumps into my veins. No, once we are detoxed, and sober- we always have a choice. However, I have an allergy to drugs and alcohol so once its in my system, its on like Donkey-Kong bitch(or Mario Kart). If you're not one of us, don't try and understand it, just take our word for it. I can sit here all day and tell you story after story about my actions during addiction which 1000% support this idea and you would probably not believe half of them, that's how delusional I was as during active addiction.

Addiction is classified(by the American Medical Association) as a chronic, progressive, fatal disease, if left untreated. At this point, it doesn't matter what side of the isle you are on with this argument, the truth is, the facts support this. More people die than recover. So, the million dollar question is, "If the third group 🡩 wont stop no matter what consequence they face, and if its chronic, progressive, and fatal- what the hell do they do?" Unfortunately, most continuing using- going to prison, losing families, gaining incurable diseases- and the ones who don't die, live incredibly painful lives full of grief. The odds are heavily stacked against us.

Of this 11.2%, roughly 60% will go on to relapse within their 1st year of sobriety. Of that 60%, 7.7% will go on to overdose and die (2021).

Even with access to treatment options, which most people don't have, the outcome is grim. If you need/want legitimate in-patient treatment in the Unites States yet don't have health insurance, you're going to be paying out-of-pocket(on average), $30-50,000 for 30 days. Now, I've never met a junkie in all my life, including myself, who had $30-50K chilling in an account at their disposal, because if they did(wait for it), they would be getting high with it! So, this responsibility usually falls on the addicts family(or the State if they are caught in the system). Most families don't have that kind of disposable income. So now, little heroin-shooting Timmy is faced with state-funded treatment(most are joke city with 9 month waiting lists), or out-patient styled recovery groups(AA/NA/Celebrate recovery). In-patient recovery, especially for 1st-timers in my opinion is absolutely essential because it allows someone a safe environment to detox as well as to create distance from their last drink/drug, which is crucial. I've been through 7 in-patients, I unfortunately know what I'm talking about.

However, THERE IS A SOLUTION. Its quite simple, yet I make it oh so complicated in my addicted mind. If I cant quit(which my history shows), and even if I can string together a couple days of sobriety(which my history also shows will eventually fail), clearly illustrating how I don't have the necessary power needed to get/stay sober(obvi bro), yet I see other people who used to drink and get high like me who are living beautifully recovered live today- WHAT THE FUCK GIVES?!

A POWER GREATER THAN ME(that's what gives homie)! Its like saying I'm a deer who has an identical twin- same abilities, same afflictions, same chemical make-up- and I'm trying to jump over a fence that my identical twin deer jumped over a long time ago(and is standing there cheering me on to come over to the other side), yet no matter what I do, I cant make it. Maybe the solution is to cease fighting and try what worked for them? Where I come from, what worked and continues to work for "them", is following a few simple steps via a higher power(if you are interested in this way of life, message me, lets chat).

If you think 🡩 is hogwash(I did for years), before you write it off, think about it. Here's me. I'm shooting heroin/meth into my veins daily, I'm getting SS bolts on my chest as a result of addiction, I'm catching felony drug cases, I've lost all jobs, I've lost all friends, I'm going to jail(s), I'm going to rehab 7 times, I'm stealing from grandparents/parents/strangers, I'm robbing drug dealers, I'm getting guns pulled on me weekly from those drug dealers, I'm now homeless for 1.5 years, I've lost my health, I've lost my dignity, I've sold everything I own(including shoes, 2nd to last pair of clothes), I'm using public restroom toilet water to shoot up with, I'm cutting myself and actively trying to die- ALL AS A RESULT OF MY ADDICTION- then one day, I just say, "You know what I think ill just stop today. See you later addiction(hallmark card ending)". Hell-to-the-Naw bro! There is a power greater than me, which is alive in my life. That's the miracle of recovery. If their were something "big enough" or "scary enough" to make me quit, I would of quit a long time ago. See what I mean? It's a lot to consider, I know. However, at the end of the day we have two choices. 1. Go on to the bitter end and die(whether literally or figuratively), or 2. Embrace recovery. For me dying wasn't even the worst possible outcome. The worst outcome would be to continue living life absolutely fuckin' miserable the rest of my life, until I'm old and grey, with nothing to show for. Ill take death any day over that.

*If you or someone you love is suffering, message me! I would love to listen to what you/they are going through.

[Spencer Brooks Otto] 2023

I can't just trust God when he gives me a positive word over my life ie you're.gonna do great things, it's easy to say I trust you then God. I lf I want to claim strong faith I have to trust God when he says hey some bad shits coming too.