Living like a rock star is risky behavior

Living like a rock star is risky behavior

I have bipolar 1 disorder and PTSD.

Most know that bipolar is a mood disorder characterized by high elevated mania and low depression.

Another lesser talked about symptom is that of “risky behavior” and it is where I have gotten myself into the most trouble.

I become the life of the party with no inhibitions. In manic mode, I have a lot of confidence to go up to anyone and have a conversation. Not so in depressed mode, where I am more afraid to talk to people. During the mania phase I have the most trouble with “risky behavior”.

Risky behavior is defined as:

  • having unprotected sex with strangers (no inhibitions)

  • driving fast (147 mph)

  • drug abuse (LSD, heroin, meth, spice, etc)

Living like a rock star on sex, drugs and rock n roll. It sounds like a lot of fun. It is a lot of fun, but it costs lots of money, risk getting an STD, potential drug overdose and involves interacting with dangerous people.

Living like a rock star another episode with Bipolar Bbqdad

I planned to go to the Forest Fair Festival in Girdwood, AK but wanted to load up on supplies since I would be camping in my truck for the three-day weekend. I had already a backpack with some clothes and my guitar. What I wanted to get was some bacon, beer, firewood, and weed.

I decided to drive by Uncle Remus’ van to get some weed or spice. He parks near an old motel that rents by the hour. It is noon so I suspect he will be there. When I get to the spot there is no van, but a girl sitting on the stoop leading to the entrance of the motel.

“Can you help me out?”, the girl says.

“What do you need?”, I reply.

“Light my cig and maybe a ride?”, she stood up and walked over to my window of my truck.

“Get in, BTW my name is Bbqdad, what is your name?”, I asked.

“Kandy Crush”

(at this point alarms should be going off in my head but instead I dive head long into heartache)

“Do you want to go to Girdwood? I’m camping out at the music festival.”, I explained.

Kandy got into the truck and leaned over while I lit her cigarette. I told her I was looking for Uncle Remus to get some stuff, did she know him. Instead, she told me about a guy she knew named Reko that hung out down on Karluk. (I was manic and had no inhibitions or good judgment)

So when we got to Karluk street, which was about 50 yards long and had homeless people lined up and down on both sides. There were tents and lawn chairs with people sitting and watching as my red truck rolled by. Kandy told me to pull over while she got out to talk to Reko in one of the tents.

She got out and walked over to one of the camping tents and bent over and said something to someone inside.

“$20 dollars for some spice, $35 for weed, $100 for clear or brown”, she said after she had come back.

“Take this $120 and get some spice and brown”, I heard myself say.

Both of us were in pretty good spirits driving down the road with the ocean on one side and the mountains on the other. It was only 30 miles to Girdwood so I was able to hold Kandy off from shooting up the brown (heroin) and instead we both were smoking spice she rolled. I was already manic and talkative. The spice made me even more chatty.

When we got to the town I stopped at a gas station to fill up and also get the bacon and firewood. I loved cutting thick slices of bacon and grilling over the fire in my cast iron skillet. I loved camping and hanging out with new friends playing music and imbibing in stuff. I loved having a new girl friend to party with at the festival.

I parked my truck next to the river and a bridge that led to the festival which was in the woods. There would be about 40 bands over the weekend and crowds of people to watch. Kandy and I could sleep in the truck whenever we got tired of listening and dancing to music.

It was the afternoon and Kandy whispered in my ear, “Do you want to take a nap?”

Without an answer from me she took my hand, and we crawled back into the truck.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a little black case with a zipper. Inside was two syringes, needles and a spoon. She took the brown out of her pocket and scraped some off into the spoon where she added some water. My lighter was used to heat up the mixture so the brown would dissolve fully.

She said since I was new I would get a half dose instead of a full. I watched her as she took off her t-shirt and wrapped a cord around her arm. She had already loaded the syringe and was now shooting the brown liquid into one of her veins.

“Do you want a half?”, she asked me.

“Yes”, as I leaned back into my seat and rolled up my sleeve.

Pinch. It only felt like a pinch when the needle pricked my skin but I felt a warm rush of fluid as she injected me. The warmth washed all over my body and my head. I was totally stoned.

Kandy got into the backseat and pulled me back next to her. She put her arms around me, and we kissed for the first time. We didn’t waste anytime taking off shirts, bra, pants and climbing underneath my army blanket.

Sex with Kandy was great but cuddling and being high was the perfect afternoon delight.

It had been my first time using heroin and something I told myself I would never do or repeat. Yet, my mania still had plans and that was to be a rock star so it would not be the last time we used that weekend.


In this episode I am picking up a street girl, spending money on drugs and driving down the road stoned on spice. That my friend is risky behavior. I wrote a song about her called “Kandy Crush” which you can listen to here.

Kandy and I were friends for several months until she drove off with my truck and I never saw her again.

Risky behavior has consequences and trusting a heroin user with my keys was a bad move on my part.

Published by BbqDad

pilot poet dad "I can open a pickle jar with my bare hands!"

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