(no subject)
Today kids, we are gonna talk about drugs (If your thinking tylonel at this point than I might suggest you stop here).
In order to preserve fairness, my opinions will be kept to a minimum. Instead, I wish to concentrate on relating experiences, because from experience an individual can draw their own conclusions.
BACKGROUND (Youthful Transgressions)
Around the age of 15, for various reasons, I began seeking help from a string of psychologists and psychiatrists. Eventually, a serious breakdown brought me to Meadowwood (a mental health facility but I will accept the common name "psycho-ward" if you feel so inclined). Though doctors had previously put off a diagnosis of my "condition," my records were here compiled, and my problem given a name: Bi-Polar Psychotic. To a teenager, and even some adults, these words may be common but not completely understood. And so I say, let them be defined:
Bi-Polar: Alternating periods of euphoria and depression
Psychosis: Loss of contact with reality and causing deterioration of normal social functioning. Hearing voices and hallucinations are common in extreme episodes.
Psychosis=In college, I found out that being an auditory learner means you learn by sound. Repeating things to the self, hearing the thoughts being spoken in your head, and speaking out loud to work something out; are often common practices. In fact, I read this whole goddamn entry to myself, while I wrote it for concentration and editing purposes. These practices were mistaken (most likely for lack of proper explanation by my young, uneducated mind) for hearing voices in my head and coupled with what was perceived as a state of deteriorated social function (perhaps easily attributed to a sheltered/rejected social childhood), the conclusion was drawn that I was suffering from some form of psychosis.
Bi-Polar=Food>Money. Take care of your body, besides I am a Taurus look it up, enough said.
NOW ONTO THE DRUGS! During high school, beginning freshaman year and lasting almost to senior year, various psychologists prescribed me such drugs as Depakote, Zyprexa (my only anti-psychotic taken for a period of almost a year), Zoloft, and at least three other mood stablelizers. I tested at least 4 different doses of Depakote, including 2000 milligrams. 2000 milligrams is a REALLY HIGH DOSE. I remember depakote the most because I took it the longest.
Prominent Effects Over Two Years. (as per my experience alone):
-Extreme Drowsiness
-Deteriorated Social Function (I am not kidding, think zombie, and yes these drugs were supposed to improve my social function not reduce it.)
-Loss of Contact with Reality
-Patchy Memory (As in I still can't remember large chunks of this period of MY LIFE.)
My Own Personal Solution: Kick the meds and take up a new interest in philosophy, experience, and marijuana
Marijuana Effects: Relaxation, as in mind, body and spirit. Munchies, laziness (I'll admit it at times), and occasional slow memory response. I thought this was a fair trade for being a zombie.
During those years in high school, I had become a zombie. My parents saw it, my friends saw it, and I was the last to see it. It wasn't until I stopped depending on the drugs and they worked their way out of my system that I "woke up." My saving grace, as it turns out was my approach to learning: I could pass out in class and still hear what the teacher had to say, and I like to read so of course that helped as well. It took me years, and from time to time I still collect memories from the mouths of those who remember things more clearly.
COCAINE
BACKGROUND: I think it was July, early in the month, when I first tried cocaine. I had done shrooms a few times, years before, and once by accident was passed a bowl of opium at a party. So I had some experience with other types of drugs, beyond alcohal and marijuana.
I had previously told myself, following my last and only "bad trip" (about three years ago I think) that I would stick simply with marijuana and the occassional alcoholic beverage. I still can't beat those damn cigarettes either, but that is another thing altogether.
Things were good in my life. In fact, not long after the first time I tried cocaine I got a good paying job, a new group of friends, and new interests. There was never a connection between the two, but all of these good times were affected in some way or another by my choice. This is in some way my therapy.
Facts:
From Late August until Early October of this year, I ended up spending roughly an average of $100 a week on cocaine. 1 gram is $50. If you buy it in "eight balls," you can get roughly equivalent to an eighth, or around 3.6 grams, for $150 dollars. I was averaging 2 grams a week easy, sometimes almost a gram to myself in a night. Two grams is considered the average overdose, if done in under... what is it a 12 hour period? And anybody who has seen me drink knows I am a lightweight.
Before I started the good paying production job, I weighed roughly 190+ pounds. In mid-October I randomly stepped on a scale, and registered only 165 pounds (the lowest personal weight since about 10th grade). Baggy clothes has been able to conceal this fact, and due to other factors I have always been thin. A lowered appetite (due to cocaine) reduced me to one, maybe two, meals a day, (which were forced) all while I was attempting to work 50 hours a week for the production job and often 2-3 hours on weekends for my photography jobs.
Paranoia and increased irritability effected not only my personal and social life... But I was also fired from my good paying production job because I woke up too late one day, most likely due to my drained energy. The job wasn't for me anyway, but I didn't want to walk away from the money and I didn't see what was happening. At a few times before I was fired, I even had to do what is known as a "bump," or a small line of cocaine, in the morning to wake up because I had done too much the night before.
During that time I experienced what I can only properly label as a "binge." The National Institute on Drug Abuse described the effects of it best in this paragraph from their article on cocaine:
"Use of cocaine in a binge, during which the drug is taken repeatedly and at increasingly high doses, may lead to a state of increasing irritability, restlessness, and paranoia. This can result in a period of full-blown paranoid psychosis, in which the user loses touch with reality and experiences auditory hallucinations." (http://www.nida.nih.gov/Infofacts/cocaine.html)
I don't remember auditory hallucinations, but I wouldn't be surprised if I came damn close. Like so many drugs (which most often while on them the effects are less noticeable), cocaine was building up in my system and I noticed little to no change in myself expect for the stuffy nose; where as one or two people close to me saw a complete and obvious change in me.
It was my brother who finally pulled me back. He encouraged me to back off for perspective, and though I went on without him for a week or so, his encouragement and support finally got through to me. I had to make the decision myself, but he proved once again why I call him brother. He was there for me when I needed it the most.
When I finally "woke up" from this "binge" state, I began to realize the effects of my chosen path and the similarities between my own previous experiences with what I would call medication-induced psychosis. Coke is only supposed to stay in your system for three days, but it took two weeks after I did my last round to feel in control again. The paranoia tapered off slowly, perhaps because my brain had become conditioned to it.
What I have learned...
Um moderation is best! I haven't done cocaine in about a month now, and I can't say for sure that I never will again... but I will never, ever live a binge again. This means more than once a month is asking for trouble, but it isn't in my plans of the near future. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't it doesn't. I am not searching for it. I am not normally a binge person. In fact as my older friends would tell you, I am the last person they would expect to do something like that. Also, don't split an eight ball in one night with only one other person, EVER! One or two smalls lines is more than enough to satisfy, after that is a tumble ride.
I lost a piece of my life again, or more accurately I lived a piece of my life without any control. There were also emotional outburts and things that resulted from the effects of the drug itself, and of course stress during that time was amplified exponentially.
I didn't speak out until now because I wanted time to heal. For those of you who didn't know, don't fault yourself for not noticing... Hell I didn't even notice. I didn't tell anyone really, but for a few people. And only one, maybe two people, even suspected the extent of what occured.
This entry is for me to remind myself, and to share my experience, so perhaps a few can learn from my mistakes without having to live them...
I have taken the attitude that I will not regret who I became or what I did, but in exchange for all the mistakes and all the pain, I have gained a new streak of strength and knowledge from the experiences. These experiences being only fully understood and comprehended, when I at last awakened.
This is where I paint myself as a guinea pig. These are true experiences from my life. If your seriously thinking of reading this book, I suggest you take some time lol...