ebook available on AMAZON for $2.99!!!
the author began
writing the first draft while serving a
in a psychiatric hospital
in Brainerd, MN during the winter of 2006
everything written is True
detailed journals were referenced for authenticity and accuracy
supplemental documents verify every legal incident happened
(unlike other memoirs!)
3 month psych ward commitment
for being mentally ill and dangerous is also factual
read for free on kindle unlimited
click to download today!
learn from a memoir unafraid to write about the addiction
and domestic violence happening every day...
nobody ever wants to talk about
ijwd is not about justin donner
it is not about an individual
it is about society - it is about you - it is about us
if you want to be shown if you want to understand
if you do not want to be told how to feel
read this book.
Grab a Seat!!!
Justin sounds like a
spoiled, egotistical, misogynist. Basically the story of frat boy excesses and notches on the bedpost
Donner touches on very universal and relevant human emotions and experiences - not just addiction. It's been a few days since I finished I Just Woke Up Dead and I still don't feel ready to read another book.
I can't move on yet.
TV Interview with
"North Dakota Today" show
and Recovery Rocks
hi, my name is justin and i am a mentally ill alcoholic and addict...
...and these are examples from the novel which make ijwd a memoir like no other
A heart monitor beeps, sounding hope. Hope he never wanted. An intervention that was never supposed to occur.
They are asking how many pills he took. Looking up now, no longer floating, nothing makes sense. In an instant the dream is not a dream. That place was nearly reached.
They shout questions but are not given answers. Do not want to be here, do not want to be disoriented and groggy and drunk and alive. Whatever was experienced moments ago had been clear. Wide awake in a dream with a conscious that was free.
No right. No wrong. Happy. Sanctuary that was so close is now gone. Let me go back. Stop asking questions and let me go back.
They say they are going to use a stomach pump. Their attempts to insert the tube are met with resistance.
Jesus, please, if you are real,
if you care,
let me go back...
Leaving the bathroom, sniffling, Erica is found and hugged from behind. She holds arms that are wrapped around her, pressing her breasts together. It feels better than recent sex-capades, preferring to keep her close and kiss her lightly than fuck her in the ass...
The nurse introduces herself and offers a seat. A fist is clenched trying to work up a good vein. She is irrelevant. As she ties a tourniquet around the right bicep the vein balloons. Visceral rates skyrocket. She dabs a cotton ball in sanitizing solution and swabs a rusty colored bullseye. Swallowing is difficult. Feet are crossed and twitching. Breath is held. Teeth grind. Cracked lips are bitten. Each fiber in every muscle is tense.
Following the nurse’s hands while she prepares the needle as tiny beads of sweat form, salivating, the body coils up, aching to burst. She turns in slow motion. The point of the needle blings as it drifts across the room, fluttering down, clean and pure.
Without breaking stride, the tip glides beneath the skin, hesitating for a moment before popping the vein. Blood gushes into the vial, warmth flowing through a cold existence. It washes over every cell. Nothing moves. No blinking. No breathing. No existence. Just bliss.
Long, slow exhaling accompanies the vial change. As blood pulsates the euphoria continues, each vial sucking up fluid as the needle snuggles inside a cozy, tight, wet lover. Diane pushes it in further, slides it around as the last drops are swallowed up, keeping it inside while that moment of peace warms everything inside.
When fluid transfer is complete she pops the last tube and lets the needle rest, falling aside while still penetrating. The seduction of an intravenous affair returns. Unwavering romance that had been forgotten but was never gotten over. Erotic and intense, cold and selfish. There is no emotional goodbye, no cuddling until morning. Diane rips it out, wipes up the mess, slaps on a bandage.
You can loosen your fist now...