Part 1: The PCP Nightmare – The Night I Lost Control
By. Christopher McManus
The Start of the Fall
The oilfield was booming. Money was flowing. My crew had grown from 5 to 75 people in a year. The stress of managing all of that? Unbearable.
I found ways to cope—drinking, smoking spice (synthetic weed), anything that kept me functioning while passing drug tests. But after a while, even that wasn’t enough.
And that’s when I found something stronger.
One night, a guy I worked with pulled up, smoking something I assumed was spice. I took a few hits, expecting the usual high.
But this? This was different.
“What is this?” I asked, my body already buzzing in a way I’d never felt before.
“Angel dust, bro. PCP.”
That moment changed everything.
PCP Takes Over
I was hooked instantly. Within weeks, I got my hands on $300 worth—enough to last months.
I burned through it in days.
Blackouts. Lost time. I’d wake up and have no idea where I had been, what I had done, or who I had become.
And then came the night that changed everything.
The Night I Lost Control
We were supposed to be watching my brother’s kids. My wife, my son, and the little ones were all at the house.
But I wasn’t really there.
I turned to my wife, my mind twisted beyond reason. I wanted her—and I didn’t care whether she was willing or not. I started grabbing at her, trying to force myself on her.
She fought back.
She grabbed a fork and stabbed me in the arm, over and over.
But PCP numbs pain.
I felt nothing.
She panicked and did the only thing she could—she called my parents.
Minutes later, they walked through the door.
My mom. My dad. Faces filled with fear and disbelief.
I looked at them, my mind detached from reality. Then I dropped to the floor, slithering like a snake between my mother’s legs.
I rose up, hissing like a cobra, inches from my father’s face.
And that was it.
That was the moment they knew I was too far gone.
My dad grabbed his phone and called the cops.
The Psychotic Breakdown
I ran to the bathroom, ripped my clothes off, and jumped into the shower.
Hot water poured over me as I belted out Tech N9ne lyrics, convinced I was summoning some kind of demon.
Through the fog, I saw movement.
My brother was at the door, looking at me like he didn’t even recognize me.
I grabbed the showerhead and sprayed him in the face, laughing like a maniac.
Then another shadow passed by.
It was an EMT.
I didn’t know it at the time, but they were waiting for their moment.
Duct-Taped Like a Rabid Animal
I stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, completely naked.
I stormed into the living room, grabbed myself, and shouted filthy things at the cops.
Then—blackness.
When I woke up, I was duct-taped to a backboard like a wild animal.
I was taken to the hospital, where I spent three hours screaming at the staff.
And then?
The drugs started to wear off.
Reality hit me like a freight train.
I had lost control.
The Aftermath – A Wake-Up Call I Ignored
I tried to play the rehab card, telling myself I’d get clean.
But even in rehab, I saw addicts who were never going to escape their cycle.
I looked at them and thought: I don’t belong here. I’m not like them.
That was the biggest lie I ever told myself.
I walked out.
And fell right back into it.
The PCP nights were done, but the damage was already done.
The next phase of my downfall was coming.
And this time, it would almost cost me my life.
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