The Substance For You Saga Pt. 2
Addiction + Codependency Continued (Part 1- http://substanceforyou.com/substance-for-you-saga-pt-1/)
Soon after that I started experimenting with different types of ecstasy—well different laced types, but I always used the triple-stacks. There was at this time, single, double, and triple stacks of pills. You could guess which one of the ecstasy types is the strongest and even laced the most.
By the time I was sixteen I was doing ecstasy over the summer break I had from high school. I would spend most of my time near a pool about five miles away from my house. This is where all of the dropouts or drug user cliques hung out.
The water felt like vibrating Jello and it was confusing for me at that age, but I enjoyed the high without understanding the consequences. The walls of the school next to it would feel grainy and I would rub my face on it as I had bass boosting headphones on. I would even lie in the grass doing snow angels in the middle of summer because of the texture.
Most times I would smoke marijuana thirty minutes before my roll kicked in just to make it hit me faster. It sure as hell worked.
During these times I would travel to all parts of the state with my ecstasy dealer because he had sub-woofers in his truck unlike any I had ever heard; that could have been the ecstasy though. I would ride in the backseat or back-end of the truck and take a quick nap on top of the woofers while we drove to our party destination. It was so much better than sex, although I heard sex on ecstasy would make it terrible to have while sober. This is because there’s no greater orgasm than that of sex on ecstasy, as ecstasy is like an orgasm/euphoria all in itself.
Most of my friends were cheaters, they were most definitely liars, and a lot of them started to become thefts as their addiction progressed. Sometimes we stole from each other, and other times we stole from ourselves. Sometimes we even stole from establishments.
By the time I was 17 I was a chronic alcoholic and taking pills every day as well. Oxycontin had become a new thing for me but the real death of me was a night I got too intoxicated to remember getting a needle prodded in my arm. The guy who shot me up in a near comatose state and said it (the needle) was full of heroin. There was too much alcohol in my system to tell so I didn’t count this as a heroin high, but just a fucked up experience. I woke up the next day with a pain in my gut from my liver and my head felt like it was dripping blood from my spinal cortex. I drove to an abandoned middle school and the homeless man I shared the needle with got out of the car while asking to come sleep on the couch later; I told him to screw off; which usually meant yes anyways.
By this time in my life I was nearing 18 years old and I had inherited a house. Somehow on top of all of this my family was completely unaware of any addictions I had, so they were okay with giving me the house. Parties at this house consisted of 200+ people, 5 days a week, with 2 days where it would be just the close friends with a count of only 50 people. Everyday was a party day though, although I did clean before I fell asleep every time, somehow. It must have been the drugs.
There were women and beer pong, while my addict friends were shooting speedballs in the bathroom and other teenagers were having fights for gambling in the backyard. Unfortunately the garage will forever smell like weed as we smoked almost 2 ounces a day in there, whether I contributed or not. We would all indulge in what we called “Super Blunts” which contained ½ to 1 full ounce of marijuana in one sitting.
Everyone felt like they were entitled to the house too. A couple weeks into owning the house I flew to California to extend the party at my uncle’s house. While I was gone my “best friend” decided to throw a party every night, while I don’t remember giving him a key. My roommate at the time was an MMA fighter at about 300 pounds, and six feet five inches. If my roommate let him in I didn’t argue for obvious reasons. I would get my ass kicked, again, like the week before. It was a friendly fight to see my chances. I lost.
Anytime anyone was over at this house it involved drugs and alcohol. I would take my break-time from studying at the University of Michigan to drive back to the house to smoke a couple of blunts of weed before my philosophy class. I think that was the only class I got an A in before dropping out from hurting myself in the oddest of fashions.
At this time I had the house for only one month and stepped out of the shower wrong. At this exact step I threw out my back spine [L4-L5] out of place and was rushed to the hospital with a herniation. The medical staff introduced me to Diluaded. It was administered every 2 hours for an elapsed time of 16 hours while they ran tests and kept me overnight. It was quite the “trip,” and I’m not sure how I survived the dosing they had me on, although it felt great compared to the nodding out it made me do too!
When I left the hospital I was in so much pain the doctor threw three prescriptions at me. I was given 750mg Extra Strength Vicodin 1-2 pills every 2 hours “AS NEEDED.” I was also given Flexeril every four hours and a Valium every 6 hours for muscle spasms. This is where I begun my long journey of opiate and benzodiazapem prescription abuse. Any doctor would take a look at my back and say, “Son, you have the back of a 65 year old man.” I could've guessed I was wearing my body down from years of drug addiction but all the doctors did was feed me more pills, and in excess.
I eventually dropped out of the University of Michigan but was still partying my ass off at the house I had to my disposal, or as my disposal, I wasn’t too sure.
I had gotten some job being a chef at a deep fry chicken joint. It paid the bills, even though I didn’t have any besides a drug habit.
People would always surround me and ask my friends if I was okay, while my girlfriend at the time would try to keep me standing straight. My friend who was the chronic heroin abuser said, “He’s great! Let him enjoy” while I nodded out every five minutes from a new pill I was taking. Hey! I thought it was normal with the pain I was in, although I didn’t find any other options like physical therapy or just dealing with it to suffice. Numbing myself through self-medication seemed to be the only option that any medical staff gave me, so I took it. Oh how mass pharmaceuticals have contributed to this onslaught of addiction. Thank you <3 NOT!
This is only just the beginning of the torment addiction, mental illness, and chronic pain had put me through. For Part 3 go here– http://substanceforyou.com/substance-for-you-saga-pt-3/
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