As Charlie Sheen’s awkward and bizarre rantings are in full bloom-courtesy of the ever accommodating media-I’m left with the nagging issue of whether he is or is not in the midst of a psychotic breakdown fueled by drug abuse.

I don’t know if he is abusing drugs, but I recognize his behavior. No, I’m not a psychiatrist or a drug abuse interventionist. I am a criminal defense attorney who, as a teenager, wasted my years abusing most drugs-from herbs to chemicals and shoot -dope-punctuated by stints in juvenile and adult “correctional” facilities.

As I struggled to free myself from the shackles of chemical dependency, eventually completing a prison sentence followed by a govenor’s pardon and law school, I remember three incidents that I cannot forget. The first occurred while in prison at St.Cloud Reformatory for Men in St.Cloud, Mn. A person I’ll call Lenny approached my cell one day.  I’d known Lenny on the streets and we’d gotten high a few times together.

I’d noticed in the joint that Lenny was starting to act bizarre so I avoided him. One day I could not. As he approached my cell,  he looked up and down the galley and then said, “Hey, you got any speed?” I told him I didn’t do drugs anymore. He then said, “You ain’t got to do any or have any. Jus’ lemme touch your hand. I can get high from that!”

I simply dismissed Lenny as crazy and let it go.  Until it happened again. This time it occurred while I was attending the University of Minnesota working on my B.A. in political science. I had come out of prison through a community-based therapy program to attend college. While there I ran into an old partner who I had run with in the streets and had been locked down with  in the joint. Larry was going to the U of M as well, but now when I saw him his personality had changed dramatically. It was a warm summer day and Larry stood off the sidewalk, on the grass. He was wearing a judo uniform and his hair and beard were flowing down his shoulders.

When he saw me looking at him,  he asked how I was doing. “Fine,” I replied. He then asked if I wanted some energy to help me study.  I said no, believing he was referring to dope. He wasn’t. Instead, when I rejected the offer, he stated that he wanted me to reach to the sky with him and we could absorb the sun’s energy together.

The last encounter occurred when I bumped  into an old friend.  Michael had moved out of state, but now he was back. When I saw him, and after superficial talk,  he said to me, “Barry, you ever feel like you’re standing over there when you’re really standing over here?” He then  accused me of standing on his feet.  I abruptly ended the conversation and left Michael standing by himself.

All three persons  shared two traits. They all had been long-term drug abusers.  And  they tenaciously clung to their Zone where they had developed and nutured their alter ego-the hip, slick-talking , easy-go-lucky player living on the edge, while their loved ones died a little each day as they watched  him/her descend  into chaos and personal torment.

Intervention may or may not work. Charlie Sheen needs to get out of this Zone to survive. Hopefully, someone other than the media can reach him and he can wake up from what appears to be a drug-induced state.

Until someone connects  with Charlie Sheen, all one can do is wish him and his family well.