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For when I may not be feeling so positive.

I have just been for a run in the sun, I feel good, like I said in my last post, I don't need anything to feel good. Not these days, just good clean excercise, good friends, the other good things.

Have not used any kratom today. I know I will, because it's there, and because within the next few hours my body will start trying to jump out of its own skin, and I have a busy early part of the week to get through where I need to be able to sit still, etc.

But I am kind of looking forward to running out of the shit, and seeing what happens. I will leave this little time capsule for myself to look back on, if I should ever start to think that I need kratom to feel good.

As I prepare to get off kratom later next week, I thought, while still using it, I would blog my reasons why I don't need it any more - which may be useful to look back on when that negative voice in my head starts trying to tempt me on to the wrong path... as it is likely to do. Maybe this will also be useful for others, who knows...

Ok, this time round the shit I need to get off is kratom, and that's going to be tough, simply because of the amounts I've been taking, and the way I've used it to "supplement" every aspect of my life, using it as a stimulant to work on projects, a stress reliever, and an aid to relaxation. In some ways, I've been using it like some people use cigarettes - it's just turned into a habit and I feel bad if I don't top up my bloodstream with the stuff at regular intervals.

Yes, they all say you shouldn't use kratom daily, never mind all day daily, but when I started smoking at 15 I wasn't planning on having a 40 a day habit for the next 20 years either...

The point is, neither smoking in the past, or kratom now, are things that I really need. When I gave up smoking, I was quite able to function, and after a few months never really gave it much thought any more. Where once I couldn't pause to think of the next sentence without lighting up a cigarette, I actually became more productive without them, not to say a lot healthier. But I think at some point I replaced the cigarettes with kratom.

My relationship with drugs hasn't always been based on simple chemical addiction. Back when I was a teenager, I had a lot of emotional pain, and realised alcohol was a good way of blocking it out (or at least I thought it was) - hence began 20 or so years of attempted self destruction with alcohol. I wasn't having fun on alcohol, I was drinking alone, I was drinking insane amounts - but basically I was self medicating. As I got into my mid 30's I began to feel happier in myself, and to grow as a person, and the need for alcohol began to disappear. Sure, I was using kratom by that point, but it was more to relax, rather than find oblivion. It really helped with my anxiety.

So, in effect, I had replaced drinking and smoking, with a simple herb, kratom, and all was well for a while. And then I noticed that daily use of kratom was not really having the best effect on my sexual function, and so decided to quit, and there was an experience that was the worst thing I had experienced. Quitting smoking hadn't seen me walking the streets at 4am in the dark because my goddamn legs were in danger of kicking holes in my mattress...

And so I replaced kratom with exercise, just some weights, and hill walking, and all was well for a while until some personal tragedies struck, and the oblivion seeker in me was re-awoken, and in fact all my demons were stirred up into a frenzy, which led not only to drinking again, but also to the acquaintance of a new friend, Oxycodone, which I decided was better than alcohol, because I could still mostly function and mostly didn't have to puke my guts up the next day.

Eventually I had to pay the piper, and get clean again, and I did therapy, and I put a lot of my demons to rest. I would recommend therapy of some kind to anyone, it's worth a try - find out what those demons are and exorcise the fuckers. What it did for me was lead me to a better, calmer way of life, one which I wanted to embrace, rather than blot out, one which I was in love with, one where I could accept what had happened, and live with my doubts and uncertainties, and accept MYSELF, and where exercise (hard running) was my healthy way of relaxing and feeling physically good (not to mention sex is always better, for me, when clean).

So why, some way into this new life, mostly happy, confident, and with a new career ahead of me, new relationships working out better than ever before, and having met the real friends I had always looked for in life, did I end up at this stage, of having to do another kratom detox?

The simple, cliched answer is, because I could. The person free of any emotional pain is rare, but I was approaching it - but when life threw excruciating PHYSICAL pain at me in the form of a trapped nerve, it was just the excuse my inner monkey needed to climb right back up on to my back... I thought I would be Ok, just use to get through the pain, and then I would stop. And that nearly worked, until I then got another injury which stopped my running too - and suddenly I had a huge gap in my life, and thought, well, I will keep using the stuff for now... And suddenly here I am, use out of control, needing to dose, and dose, and dose to feel normal, spending ludicrous amounts of money that could be better spent elswhere, and oh my sex life has dwindled away again due to all this...

And all because kratom became a habit again. I unwittingly convinced my body (and mind) that it actually needs this stuff to function, that nothing can be done without my little bottle of kratom and water, that no kratom means incredible suffering. And yet all that is, is a habit, and I just need to give my body and mind a little time to adjust to being without it. I even know from my past experiences that yes, once I am through the worst, I will be able to feel great again, but it is hard to feel certain of that when I am yawning, my eyes are streaming, I can neither sleep not stay awake and my legs want to kick holes in walls. I think it gets worse each time, like my body is remembering all previous opiate and kratom withdrawals and compounding them...

I've got through withdrawals before, the reason I am blogging this is thinking forward and examining why I've relapsed over the last year, whenever I have managed to get through a withdrawal. Part of it has been pressure - I've never felt I quite got over the hill far enough, before some stressful event or important project came up, and suddenly it was all to easy to hit the order button (just a bag to get me through this deadline...). Part of it was the often crippling depression phase just after withdrawal, the lack of motivation, the anhedonia - again, when I had things to do (I can't get through my deadline/meeting/date without a little...). In a way, my high self esteem works against me, the voice in my head tells me I really, really deserve to feel good again, and there's a lying voice that says it will be no sweat, this time I can just use in evenings and at weekends, I can be responsible this time. Yeah right.

The fact is, I no longer have the deep seated anxieties and emotional pain I had that caused me to drink excessively. Nor do I have the deep seated pain and problems that caused me to seek oblivion in opiates. Yeah I still have problems, fears, like anyone - but I am older and wiser now and know it is better to face up to these and deal with them in healthier ways and they do not need to be blotted out.

I am where I am with kratom because it became a habit. It is not filling any gap or helping me do anything. All it is doing is fuelling my need for it in a vicious cycle. It's like when I started smoking when I was 15, I thought, why not, and ended up with a 40 a day habit. Once I could see through how stupid that was, I was prepared to endure the pain of quitting, which was nothing to the freedom I gained.

It would, not to put too fine a point on it, be fucking stupid to go out and buy a packet of cigarettes and start smoking after being free of that crap for five years.

Just as it would be fucking stupid, after this withdrawal attempt, to ever order any kratom again, or touch any OTC or otherwise opiates.

I am a happy, chilled person with good things happening in my life. Kratom is an anomaly, it doesn't belong, shouldn't be there. I don't need kratom, or any other substance, to feel happy or relax these days. In fact it stops me relaxing, especially if I start to run out, when it makes me feel panicked. It has also been spoiling one of life's great pleasures - sex; kratom does affect my sexual function very negatively, I will write a separate entry about that in due course.

No, the major stress in my life is being caused, at this moment, by being handcuffed to a habit, and the habit needs to be stopped. For good. I don't need kratom anymore. In fact, I never needed it in the first place.

I had a strange weekend. I don't know who else to tell. All of my "drug" friends were there. And I can't tell my regular friends. 95% of them don't know about the drug / partying scene ... and the other 5% would freak out on me if they knew what happened last weekend (or if they knew everything that I did!).

I went to a club/rave with some friends (including my boyfriend). I had one m when I first got there (about 6:00 a.m.). I redosed at 10:00. Then I took a third at 1:00. None of them hit me too hard which was okay because I did not want to go overboard this weekend (I had done a bit too much before so I wanted to try and do less). I wanted to do a cap of g just after 1 because I love m and g together. My bf went to get some for me and brought me back a cup. I poured some water in to mask the taste and then drank it. The taste was sooo gross, I figured it was strong or something. My bf came back, found out it was gone, and got really worried. Turns out there were 3 caps in there instead of juts 1.

Fuck?!?

I've never g-ed out before but I knew it was going to come with 3 caps.

I felt sooo good right before I g-ed out though. Like everything was perfect, I was so happy.

I don't remember exactly how it happened. But I was confused. I was outside and inside. $80 of coke to make me stay awake. I didn't "completely" g out as I was conscious throughout it all. I was so out of it and confused and just barely awake.

I'm not sure how long it lasted. Maybe an hour or an hour and a half. It was so scary. My bf and all my friends were looking after me though. (I have looked after many others throughout this so they kind of had to help me out!).

I don't think I'll ever forget it. It was so scary. I didn't understand things. Everyone was telling me to try and snap out of it ... I was trying, but I didn't know how! People led me outside, inside. Gave me drinks (like orange juice, vitamin water, regular water). They made sure I didn't lie down. They took me outside to keep me awake.

The security guard got upset with me. I wasn't disrupting people (well, just my friends). It wasn't like I was being a big annoyance or something. He kept telling me stuff but I didn't understand it, I just got more confused. I have never gotten in trouble there - I always try to keep up a positive vibe and I always try to help people. And that security guard was not being the nicest to me. I didn't wan to get in trouble! Although I'm pretty sure he just hates me and my bf - he tried to kick out my bf before.

I keep thinking about it. And how scary it was. It was a combination of a gazillion emotions. Scared, lonely, worried, confused, helpless. I'm glad I never reached the unconscious stage but being conscious through the whole thing was scary.

i wish i could look forward to you seeing my new smile. It hurts like hell. Stitches falling out everywhere. Jaws, aching.
love you, miss you.

When I joined the IDF I was 16. Usually we get inducted at age 18 but I came of age during Operation Peace for Galilee, a rather innocuous sounding name for the First War in Lebanon. In the war's first 18 months we took incredibly heavy losses. For you Americans, imagine if in the first 18 months of Iraq your military lost 110,000 soldiers in combat. THAT was OUR experience on a per capita basis. At about the 14 month mark I turned 16. The military needed cannon fodder and...voila.

From the time I had moved to Israel, at about age 12, I had been educated in a religious school that doubled as a military academy. We call such schools "Hesders." Most of my day was taken up with Infantry Training.

Because we were not, and still aren't party to the Convention on Child Soldiers we have no limitation such as those in place in most Western Nations. Technically speaking we consider every Israeli-Jewish male over the age of 14.5 to be a potential soldier if the need arises. My dad became a soldier at 16 as well though that was pre-Statehood so it isn't THAT unusual- though noone younger than 17 has been inducted since the late 1980s.

Normally we graduate the equivalent of high school at age 18, though in our 2nd year of high school, at age 16, we have what we call "Gadna." Gadna is 1 to 2 weeks depending upon your type of high school, and is a military training programme that is used primarily to pick and groom young people for particular units. However it is also used as a bonding exercise because even mildly retarded Israelis are taught to field strip and fire M16s.

At 18 we have a couple of months after high school to hang out, party and then... we are inducted. We then spend 3 years (4 if Navy) with almost no pay (we get about 70 US a month to cover calls home and tolietries, since our service is an honour). Then, at age 21 or 22 we are released to the Military Reserves. We get a year before we serve again and almost always we use that initial year for "Walkabout," going on holiday abroad, sort of like the Gap Year in the UK.

After that year of partying, at age 22 or 23, we finally begin our university (those that go, and that is the vast majority). In my case I served almost 7 years, finishing at age 23 so in THAT way, despite my military service having begun at a rather early age, I still ended my service at roughly the average age.

Because of my extended length of combat I was mandated to attend university while still in uniform, at age 20. The down side to that was that the military dictated my course of study. In a traditional Jewish education we don't study secular subjects above and beyond the state mandate. In the US that mandate is a daily math, English and phys ed class but in Israel it is math, that's it. In my own case I have a learning disability related to the processing and retrieval of numbers. I have a 144 to 147 IQ depending upon the type of test but beyond basic math, I'm lost. This really limited me academically because despite the IDF providing me with extencive tutoring I still struggled with decimals, forget about Algebra, Trig, Calculus and so on. Aside from that narrowing my possibilities in terms of Majors, I had always been fascinated with Ethnography, Anthropology, etc.

The IDF extencively tests all personnel so that years before they mandated my university they had already decided what I could excel in (thanks Big Brother!). I remember discussing in Hesder (my religious-military high school) my interest in plants. Despite my interest in cultures and ethnicities the IDF instructed me to study Botany, the science of plants.

Of course Botany, like any scientific genre has more than a modicum of advanced math. The genetics and other biological facets meant I was going to be bombarded with math whether I liked it or not and so I grudgingly accepted what would eventually prove to be a gratifying course of study.

I was enrolled in the Technicon (alternative English spelling being"Technikon"), our equivalent of MIT, in the coastal city of Hafia. Sill, I managed though it was not without difficulty. Then, at age 23 when I was up for a promotion to Jr. Officer (Lieutenant, from Command Sgt., which is like a Sgt Major in the US), and was denied my promotion because of my military arrest over hashish smuggling. I then cashiered out and so ended my first period of Active Duty.

When I came to the US about 3 years later, I began to consider re-enrolling in school after leaving Tampa and coming to New York City. Before long I found myself studying at CUNY, City University of New York. Casually I began taking courses that I enjoyed, Anthro, Socio, Psych, etc. Eventually a professor I had become friendly with recommended the field of Ethno-Botany, which is a genre, a sub-discipline of Anthropology. Basically it is the study of the utilisation of plants within a cultural context, culture being the particular way in which a group of people interact with their environment. To clarify, "environment" doesn't necessarily refer to the PHYSICAL environmemt. As I said previously, I wasn't privy to a secular education until I was 23. I had no odea what "Ethno-Botany" was. The IDF had directed me to take Botany because at the time we were hardcore Socialists, private industry was very rare, and even today the govt. retains significant control over many areas of industry though in a not too invasive manner (usually through very advantageous arrangements with R & Ds so as to net royalties and/or patents). Botany would be used to further develop Israeli agriculture and or forest management which is another national obsession, due to Arabs having turned much of the land into desert via denuding the land.

So I began to study ABOUT (as opposed to taking course work) Ethno-Botany. It is a relatively young sub-discipline that was basically single handedly created by the American, Richard Schultes. Schultes also single handedly created psychadelic culture. Hoffmann created LSD but it was Schultes who in his investigative work in Mexico discovered hallucinogenic mushrooms being used for spiritual purposes.

Shultes work inspired intellectuals to ponder, and then subjectively investigate hallucinogens. It was this work that led to the original "Acid Tests" amongt psychologists. When it began to be utilised outside of the clinical setting, in about 1964, psychadelia wad born.

When Schultes cut back on Field Work and settled into the staid but rewarding life of a well respected academic one of his many acolytes was astudent by the name of Wade Davis. Davis today is relatively well known for his involvement with "National Geographic," and as a documentary filmaker. Davis first gained wide acclaim via his seminal tome, "The Serpent and the Rainbow." Later made into a cheesy movie, the very well written book tells of Davis' real life experiences in Haiti .

I"l continue in my next entry, at which point I'll explain my title.

Here is a lits of the drugs that I want to try in the future, many requiring a specific cultural setting, and at places shamans present:

• 2C-E
• Ayahuasca (or smoked DMT)
• Ibogaina
• Mescaline
• PCP
• Probably some more opiates
• The Sun Opener (Heimia salicifolia)
• Wild Dagga (Leonotis leonurus)

...and more to come, as I get around to thinking of them.

You know the irony of the situation I come to find myself in is that I personally watched my mother spiral downwards and repeatedly bottom out in life because of her Methamphetamine addiction. A direct result was 10 yrs of foster care for me, a distinct feeling of inadequacy, the development of thought processes and patterns that were subconsciously justified in my own mind due to my mother's repeated abandonment of me, instead preferring to pursue her addiction. I find that ten years of foster care several more years as a child living under the shadow of Methamphetamine and all the issues, trials, pain and suffering I endured as a direct result of my mother's addiction to Methamphetamine, ultimately instead of deterring me from drug use it subconsciously drove me to seek out drugs in order to find emotional release, and in a grander regard allow me to understand the root of my mother's addiction that not only so negatively affected my life in countless but directly drove me to delve into the same substance, to find that I know do understand her past struggle, and I know find myself struggling with the very same addiction that destroyed my family repeatedly and caused immeasurable heartache in myself, my mother and family as a whole. It's 4:10 in the morning on 4/10 and I'm here to say I relapsed after 17 days and find myself dreading that I may have truly found something in life that I cannot overcome single handedly with my willpower alone, that I may truly be bested and addicted to he drug that ruined my childhood, the drug that I swore a vow to myself to never use a vow which I broke, and above all my fears and potential problems/issues/ramifications that arise from using it I find once I am high again that it becomes a second rate concern of mine. I love Methamphetamine, its 4:10 AM on 4/10, my birthday, smoking up, happy as can be, feeling my inhibition amd sanity slip from my grasp... And the most terrifying part of this situation is I know that I care abot whatbis ping on but my mind that finds itself addicted to this drug which must be a.majority of it tells me everything will be ok and that life is better now that I am using again. Here I am alone, no family, no true friends, my lover living far from me for now sleeping unaware that I am on the verge of giving into my addiction and losing any care for life beyond that. I'm high and I can see this. Why I ask is it not enough to keep me sober when I truly am capable of avoiding this situation and running away. Instead I find myself continuing no matter what I have to lose. I'm in love with a drug that I hate... It's my birthday, I'm spun, happy, and I just lost my hardest fight to beat Methamphetamine. I wonder if GOD and her together will give me te strength and will to walk away from it for good. Do I truly have the will, the courage, the strength and lastly and most importantly the true desire to give it up or am I destined for a habit that may destroy my life and drive away the one person left in my life who loves me unconditionally and regardless of her own issues and doubts always puts total faith in me even after our past nightmare rollercoaster ride of a relationship. I sit here ranting, and complaining. Yet I love how i feel and want nothing less. I'm at a crossroads and frankly to most whether they be clean or using it seems obvious which path will be best to choose and will lead me to lasting happiness, and I know which one will as well... God... I really think I might be addicted... and well... even high as fuck the realization of that completely scares the fucking shit outta me... I've reached a pivotal point in my life and know it... The choices I make now will affect the rest of my life. What do I do???

Here I lay... Out of gear. Work is in 4 hours the comedown is here and I can't sleep... Ugh I wonder why I do it sometimes...

i am sick and in a lot of pain. i wear my fentanyl patches (75mcg gel) but i have an extra and ive been without for a couple days so i am sick and in a lot of pain. i just cut open the patch to get to the gel. now what i need to know : whats the BEST way to IMMEDIATLY feel the gel as most as possible? ive ate it before and its pretty much a waste. i mean, it keeps you from getting sick, but you can't tell youve done anything. ive heard of smoking it but i REALLY dont want to waste it. so please, someone who REALLLLLY knows a lot about this subject please give me very detailed instructions on what exactly i need to do. i reallly dont want to waste the gel. so i dont want to do something youve "heard about through the grapevine" i want some advice from someone who realllly knows what they are talking about and whos preferablly done this themselves. thanks so much in advance ! someone please reply fast !! i feel awful ! and let me know too how sure you are that your method works! thanks

This is Rep.Ruben Ecleo Jr. The Elvis picture is right before he strangled his wife. The chrome dome is at trial 2 years later, ahhhhh meth...The house is his Graceland like mansion on Dinagat Island, Surigao del Norte Province, Mindanao.

so this is the first post on my blog hopefully not the last because as of late i have a keen interest in writing... so lemme know how it is!



So as you can pretty much tell by the title this is about relapse and what a cost it has been to me lately... so i had been clean about 8 months... just taking my suboxone everyday being productive working a bit, going to some great live music acts... just pretty much finally gettin my life back after being a hardcore junkie for the last 4 years...i should go back to say i have been prescribed subutex for a year in which i abused the shit out of it and IV'd it almost all the time...well my Dr finally caught on to me and switched me over to suboxone strips which actually worked quite well... but anyways yea after about 8 months of only having the strips my pharmacist accidently gave me subutex which i immediatly shot right into my arm... well a week later i was shootin heroin again at an alarming pace almost immedietly....its so funny how easily an addict such as myself with completely self destruct every good thing i've acomplished in the last 8 months in a matter of weeks even days sometimes... Anyways i tried almost every day to stop and switch back to the subs but i could never make it that 24 hour period and i refused to take it sooner after learning the hard way how bad precipitated withdrawl is.... after 3-4 weeks of total under kaos and self destruction i knew detox was the only answer to this... so i took a week vacation in florida and a "painless" detox inwhich they claimed by using a coctail of powerful narcotics in a taper i'd leave feeling great and refreshed ready to conquer the world free of drugs... what a joke! i left that place kicking so hard... i probably should have stayed a couple more days because i went and copped the day i got out.. my parents caught me out n were ready to disown me until they realized im 26 and not living under their roof anymore so they just bitched and moaned and told me i had to leave within the week... this was very hard for me since when i am clean from dope i have a wonderful relationship with my parents... so i only used for 1 day called my Dr n got back on the subs... i have been trying to ween myself off the subs and am at 1mg a day but i go 2-3 days with out anything and start hurtin.... i hate relapsing... its like when i relapse i have to push the restart button on life... and i happened to meet a wonderful girl while being clean who has absolutely no idea about my drug use and if she did she'd stop talking to me immedietly... during this last bender i stopped talking to her for almost 3 weeks and i dunno how i convinced her to stay with me but alas i did... well anyways i am at a point in my life where i am like truly tired of the cycle of heroin addiction, i deleted all my numbers and associates who are into that shit and i really hope i can get a new job and put some structure in my life... tommorow i have 2 interviews which could both possibly change my life... man i hope they do because the price of relapse is too much these days much too much.. F U DOPE!

So I have decided to start keeping a blog for some reason the idea just popped into my head.
I guess what I have to say today is that I’ve been in a pretty good this week which is a weird thing because most of the time I feel like I’ve been kicked into a hole. It seems I’ve run out of things to say.

I am on the cusp of my twenty-second year.
I came from a good family. I have no history of regular drug use. I am not an addict. I am a planner. I planned for this life to go quite differently than it has played out.

I fell in love. We've been together for a year and a half. He is an addict. Every day since we first begun this journey has been shrouded by deceit. He has lied to me about or kept from me every major or minor event in his life since we met.

• He kissed my friend in week one. I found out from her.
• His ex-girlfriend slept in his bed in week one. I found out in week 70.
• He hid his cigarette smoking from me for three months. I found out from a mutual friend.
• He slept with another woman a year into our relationship. I found out two months later from that woman.
• He dropped out of school and hid it from me.

And perhaps worst of all:

• He has been consistently abusing pain killers since we started dating and has repeatedly and purposefully lied to cover his tracks.

This is the man I wanted to marry. We were planning our futures together. Marriage, careers, homes, families. Our life. And for me, all of it was based on the assumption that we were both in this adult relationship in a big way. And it has only become clear to me in the past week that we were really, really not.

Of course, I am not perfect. I make too big of a deal about the messes and I don't like his friends. But I have always been honest with him. I have always put our relationship first. I have always made as much effort as necessary to maintain the health of our relationship.

That is the part that hurts the most. I feel as though we were both participating in different relationships. I was participating under the assumption of honesty and equality, and he was with the knowledge that it was not that way, and lack of desire for me to know that it was any different.

I want to continue to love, care for, and emotionally support this man. But I have no idea how to deal with addicts and what level of participation is required or encouraged on my part. I want to help, but I don't know how.
Also, I wonder if I need to also be attending NA or AA meetings. I am already in therapy for my own issues, but this seems different, more significant, and carries weightier consequences.

I've been reading BlueLight posts for about 3 weeks before I actually signed up. I think it's a good idea to have something like this that covers a wide range of topics, especially since I don't know about most of you, but I can't talk to anyone about this kind of stuff for fear of the "what ifs."

I didn't think about it at the time, but I use to have a "problem," with E. I knew I had a problem when my then best-friend and I binged on about 25 bombs in a week.... E is/was my favorite substance. It made me feel good about myself. It made me feel good about other things. It brought down the barriers that I've had ever since I can remember. After awhile, I "lost the magic," that I read so many people talking about. It no longer made me feel the way I had experienced it for so long.

This was a post I made a long time ago:

You know what? It's not a realization as of right now, it's been a realization. I realize that I'm better off. My boss said something about one of our clients and it made me think. "When you have someone who really truly believes they are injured, there's nothing more powerful than that; you can't change their mind." I can kind of relate that to myself. In my head, I truly believe that what I'm doing is the best thing for me. I am a very stubborn person; not as bad as my father though. I will at least listen to reason. I believe in my heart and soul and mind that blocking everything that involves the bad things I use to do is the very best thing for me. "If someone truly believes that _________, there's nothing more powerful than that; you can't change their mind."

One day, it just dawned on me that how I was going about my life was totally wrong. I seemed to have "seen the light," in the proverbial sense of the phrase. Basically, before it entered my head, I was partying way too much. I was taking too many drugs, going to too many raves and parties and clubs, and I didn't even care. I never really thought about it; and at this point in time I forget how it came about, but I stopped. I stopped going to parties and raves and clubs, and I stopped taking the drugs I was taking.

I know that the drugs I was taking were bad for me. I knew it. But I didn't want to stop. I was having too much fun. But after awhile, I started realizing what was happening to me because of it. Seeing, really seeing and thinking about the aftershock of everything. I use to be great with words; now I'm not so great with them anymore. My thinking process is screwed. This is all I can really think of at the moment. You have no idea how much it hurt me to really look at myself at this point. I use to be really smart, and now I'm just kind of average. It truly hurts me inside to think that I had the greatest gifts and abilities and I just threw them away for a good time; a mass amount of good times actually.

I feel like I've killed myself. I feel like a shadow of what I use to be. I use to be great. Now.....not so much. How would you feel if you had the key to a lifetime of happiness and you just threw it away for some smoke and mirrors? I really feel so horrible inside, because it feels like I was killing myself on purpose. I knew the risks and damages, but I did it anyway.

The thing that really sucks about this whole thing though, is the friends aspect of it. I'm the only one out of all of my friends that sees the situation as I have. I'm the only one who's doing what's best for me. They're still out partying, still taking massive amounts of drugs, still doing whatever it is that we use to do together as a group of friends. I am not with them. I have a good job. I am going to go to school next fall. I am taking care of my responsibilities for the most part. I am trying to grow up as a person. I am trying to be an adult about things. I'm trying to build myself a life that's not surrounded by drugs and parties.

The thing is though, I do nothing but work. I don't go to parties. I don't go to clubs. I don't go to raves. I don't do anything I use to do. People say that all work and no play isn't good; that I might snap one of these days. That's fine. I would rather snap than be dead. I would rather snap than be homeless. I would rather snap than be totally fucked because of drugs. I've seen what happens to people who take drugs as their path. My father: died when I was 6 years old from a combination of heroin overdose and bronchitis; Suffocated in his sleep from vomit December 25th, 2006. My mother; overdose of cocaine and barbitol, died when I was ten years old, summer of 2000. I was taken away from her when I was 2. They left their child behind to grow up lost and confused. David C.: drug overdose, January 2005. Vanessa Tartaglia: drug overdose, August 2005. Terry Raminov: drug overdose, January 2006. Tiffany Sanchez: coke overdose, April 2006. April Ramirez: drug overdose, September 2006...... etc., etc., etc.. There's so many more that are drug overdoses and more who were killed because of drugs.....because they chose the wrong path and didn't realize it until it was too late. These were my friends. These were my family. But addiction is stronger than water, it's stronger than blood. It's stronger than love and hate, and it will kill you in someway if you're not careful, if you're not mindful of the consequences. It will kill you one day. It doesn't even have to kill your body. It can kill your mind. It can be brain death, it can leave you a vegetable; and let's face it, sometimes that's a fate worse than death, and guess what? It was your fault. How would that make you feel? To know that you are dead inside? Guess what, if you make bad decisions in your life, if you fuck up, guess who's mistake it is.....yours. Don't blame your parents, don't blame your friends, don't blame any external source. It's your fault. Everyone has a choice in life. Realize the right one before it's too late. I will not become my parents. I will not become my friends. They are all dead. I will not be dead like them.

People keep trying to get me to go to the club, go to raves, take the drugs I use to, and I immediately say no. I've come too far to let people drag me back down with them into the swirl of confusion and drugs and loneliness. I've come to far to go back. The thing is, people also say well you don't have to do drugs, just dance and have fun. Thing is, is that I've taken so many drugs at these functions, that without them it's not fun anymore. I've spoiled it for myself. And I have to live with that. I have to live with my anger and exasperation. I'm angry at myself. I feel like I have failed and failure is the worst kind of prison. It eats at you everyday. But I will not stray from this path. I am better off now and I will not go back. While everyone is partying it up and being fucktarded, I will be working to further my education. I will be making money so I can spend it on something interesting like horseback riding, or going away for a weekend to a different state. I kind of feel like a born again Christian, lmao. Like noooooo lol.

I feel that what I am doing is the best thing for me. I'm trying to blossom into a human being who doesn't rely on vices to be happy. I like my brain cells lol.

Hopefully I won't be alone in this anymore, but people are still too wrapped up in their drugs to realize it. Oh well. I'm better off. It's sad and lonely sometime; but I am better off. People don't do what's easy, they do what they have to. If you aren't willing to work for it, then you don't want it bad enough."

............. My magic is gone, and I would give anything to get it back; but everything comes with a price. That isolation has given me problems. I was paranoid before all the drugs, but now it's worse. I only really leave my house to go to work, because when I got outside, I feel like I'm being followed; I feel like I'm being watched. But there's no one there..... If I had to give my problem a name, I'd call it Paranoid Anxiety. My paranoia gets so bad to the point where it induces an anxiety attack, but I was doing research and apparently anxiety induces paranoia....... I just can't seem to ever catch a break; I already have a multitude of issues and I don't understand why bad shit keeps happening to me. I want to go to a shrink to get medication to make everything go away, but I want to go for entirely the wrong reasons I think. Regardless of the reasons, I'm scared to go. Scared to talk to anyone. I'm 21 and I still feel like a child. My pcp gave me samples of Lexapro which is generally for General Anxiety Disorder and/or Major Depressive Disorder because I was going through a lot of stuff around Christmas, and it made me numb to everything. It put a ceiling on my emotions, and I've read that most people don't like that, but for how weird I am, I loved it. It stopped working after awhile so I stopped taking it. As weird as people may think I am, I've never told anyone, but I would love to be a sociopath....lol....not for the hurting animals part though. (Cuz I'd love for that to get around to everyone) You'd have to understand my history to understand where I'm coming from in all this, but that's incredibly long (longer than this post) and I don't feel like getting into that much detail at the moment, as if I haven't already said enough lol.

I just don't know what to do with my life. I have no drive anymore. I have no interests anymore. I just don't know. I'm scared to end up like my parents and my friends; a family of corpses. Someone asked me what my goals in life were. I responded as follows: 1. To never die. 2. To have children. 3. To give my children everything I never had and then some. 4. To make sure my children don't end up like me. 5. For someone to love me. For some reason, I don't think any of those is going to come true for me, and as I said before......... I just don't know about anything anymore..........

Well the hostages uphill from our cattle operation have all been released. The 5 gunmen all turned out to be between the ages of 15 and 17. None of them had finished 4th grade and could barely converse in Cebuano (Bisaya), the lingua franca here abouts. The official language is actually Filipino, basically a touched up version of Tagalog. Strangely, it is rarely spoken outside of Luzon. Kids here take Filipino AND English, but most speak Cebuano as a first language because Cebuanos, like Rizza's family, form the bulk of Mindanao's population. Since these kidnappers had all dropped out of school at age 8 they only spoke their tribal language, Manobo.

The "Crisis Management Committee" had to enlist 2 relatives of the lead kidnapper just so that they could communicate and understand his demands. Speaking of "demands," as I noted previously they were angry over Ondo Perez being jailed. I agree that they have a right to be angry, after all the govt.lied publicly. He released 125 people and they broke every promise they made to him. All he gets is Life in a Filipino prison. Still, there is no excuse to kidnap teachers and kids. If they killed a few cops or soldiers I would understand a bit better.

They released the last of them Tuesday morning at 6AM and withdrew into the bush, yet another group of tribesmen, pissed at the world, carrying M16s and M14s as they stomp through the jungle.

The govt.is finally getting ready to lock up Congressman Ruben Ecleo Jr. Ecleo strangled his wife to death back in 2000 when she nagged him a bit too much about his "Shabu" (methamphetamine) smoking. Later that evening he and his bodyguard put her in a rubbish bag and left her in a ditch where a scavenger found her decomposing remains.

Complicating matters is the fact that Ecleo is the big kahuna of a cult, "The Benevelont Missionaries Society." You can't nag Jesus about hitting the pipe, you know what I mean? In fact, Ecleo is considered by his followers to actually be the reincarnation of old Jesus. Well, his dad Ruben Sr was, but Ruben Sr's spirit entered Jr's body 4 days after Sr died, you get the picture I am sure. The killing happened in Cebu City on Cebu Island but the family are from the town of San Jose on Dinagat Island, part of Mindanao. It was Dinagat where police tried to arrest Jesus/Ruben Jr only to get surrounded by (literally) 15,000 cultists. When they came back with 100 soldiers the resulting fire fight killed 16 cultists. Weeks later Ecleo surrendered and upon admittance to the Cebu Provincial Jail police (there are no correctional officers, police also serve as prison guards) found 3 packets of Shabu!

Then, in his deluxe 2 room suite he was found to be keeping 4 female "acolytes" for "Bible Study." When taken to task over his deluxe accomadations and women he admitted liberally bribing police but said he did so only to prove that his religion truly is "Benevolent," AMEN.

He went to trial but just as it began he had his late wife's entire family killed, thus removing the trial's only eyewitness, his brother in law Ben Bacolod. He was then released and subsequently won a seat in Congress representing Dinagat Island.

Though he usually isn't in residence there, guess its difficult finding Shabu on that isolated island, he has a mansion that looks a lot like "Graceland." To boot, he dresses just like Elvis circa 1977, white suit, glasses and pompadour. I will include photos in a following entry.

Finally, as if people in SE Asia didn't already have enough shit on their mind, those "Fake Eggs" just showed up in Malaysia. People on Pulan Tikus (Rat Island) in Penang State found fake eggs selling for 10.50RM per 30 count tray where as real eggs sell for 11RM, a difference of like 8 American pennies.

The phenomenon began in Guangzhou, China several years ago with some nutters using gelatin, parrafin and food colouring to produce absolutely synthetic eggs. Using Alum, Sodium Benzoate and other nasty shit they began peddling it to unsuspecting consumers.

crying about you every day's not gonna bring you back. saying please isn't gonna do it. i'm sorry won't do it. Tammie, I gotta say gbye somehow. it was a dirty, cruel thing to me for this to happen. i hope you are at peace. I'm going to have to get on thru the grief cycle on you. I think i've mourned twice as long as i knew you. there's nothing else i can say or do. you're going to have to enter my memories now instead of being part of my daily existence. if you've been able to see how much i've gone thru over this, i think you'd say that i did and do love you with all that i am. i think you'd say to go now and not stop looking. I'm terrible with names and there may come a day when I forgot your name but i'll never forget you or this whole thing we had between us or especially what could have been. I love You and miss you terribly. I want my Tammie!

NOTE: NOT NEARLY COMPLETE, BUT I SIMPLY CANNOT WRITE MORE RIGHT NOW, WITHOUT NODDING OFF OR LOSING PATIENCE. Please bear with me. Thank you kind friendly Homo sapiens (and other specíes who undertand what I write)!


I just IV'ed for the first time in my life...
I just IV'ed for the first time in my life...
I just IV'ed for the first time in my life...


I went by a homeless shelter yesterday and stocked up on IV'ing gear... totally spontaneous, and I thought "Shit, I need a stash of this stuff at home," and stocked up. They've got it all, and plenty plenty. In retrospect it was bad that I ventured into that ballpark, but good because then I can get that tried, done, and over with just before I stop with everything, and then have a safe supply of the equipment required for IV administration if emergencies arise.

Eliminating possible things to try - because they are best enjoyed for the first time, and many can sadly be very habit forming. In terms of the future I don't want it to be often or maybe even ever again

...but I say goddamn what a rush - even though it was Bupe with *no instant euphoric* rush! I experienced very laid-back forthrightness and pleasant mood hours after the shot, also around numerous people. Now I'm dead tired, Morphica and THC stoned (plus all the long-lasting benzos in my system fr), and dry-eyed like a motherucker... I am nodding off, that is why this post might be incoherent, or might be another of my stray rants...

But back to... The excitement from understanding the workings of IV'ing (the gear, the chemistry, the methods, prepping the syringe with it's hopefully correct contents (ingredients desired so much that they must be brought by needle straight to the blood, no mouth, nose, stomach or intestinal wall in the way.... just plain old main-lining, doing the job to get 100% of the drugs worth) and then lastly applying the needle and going through with it.

!¡!¡!REMEMBER TO WIPE SITE OF INJECTION WITH DISINFECTANT BEFORE CONTACT AND PENETRATION.

%)STERILITY STERILITY STERILITY STERILITY PURITY STERILITY PRITY STERILITY STERILITY STERILITY STERILITY PURITY STERILITY PURITY:D!¡!¡!

I just know that I need to have tried administering some sort of hard drug intravenously before I die. And spontanaeity/chance/destiny/chaotic-set-of-parameters-and-variables-in-eternal-space-and-time led to me collecting and utilising drug utensils and the drugs themselves for some reason best explained by the universe attempting to reach an optimal energy gradient within the reaches of the boundaries of the expanding universe, before it starts to collapse and crumble. So really, just a little piece of the puzzle. But I am not going to inject heroin. Thats for the pension days really near my death. I just had to try IV injection on myself, kill the cat, and get the most of my low doses of ORT subs, until I reach ZERO, fellas, ZERO so soon.

This is my dreamed scenario... I dug myself in deeper, the climb out will be harder - but that way I'll also have left the awful habits buried deeper, and I will be stronger and more vigorous from having a harder time getting out. So better sooner than later, and better buprenorphine than heroin in the long run; the half-life and the need for redosing has become a huge factor for me in choice of drugs. The optimal drug (targets needed receptors; low dose; long duration of effect; increased alertness; elevated mood and slight euphoria) I will never find, because there is always a down-side. And I am trying to get away from the downsides through ORT and getting clean.

Anyways, I'm quite a clever guy, so it didn't take me too long to figure out what all the parts were for and how to go about it.

Only experience I've ever had with needles is stitching up my own wound on my thigh with medicinal equipment but for the sake of adventure, a leatherman instead of a prorper doctors tweezers/clamp, on a bumpy ride high in the Arctic, above the 80's degrees N. Prior to sewing myself up, I injected Xylocaine (Lydocaine hydrochloride) - awesome for local anesthesia, but I hate being injected in the gums with it at the dentist!¡

But subcutaneously it is a different story - you want to numb around the wound, and depending on the wound size and depth, slowly inject small amounts with an even distance from the wound all the way around the wound, and under/in the wound if possible. It usually requires numerous penetrations, but if one injection below (not under inside the body, but below along the skins path) the wound and one above can do it, requiring moving the needle in and out and to different sides, all the while slowly releasing the anaesthetic, optimally surrounding the wound with even amounts of Xylocain. Depending on the shape and size of the wound, I'd stick the needle in with an angle of 15-45° from skin surface to the axis parallel to the length of the needle and syringe, wiggle it around A LITTLE.

Make sure you're comfortable and relaxed. Get to know your skin's tension threshhold, breathe, and go with the flow. Pain can be described as a sensation.

A) At first I wanted to get familiar with the different volumes and solubility of the Temgesic tablets, so I went pole pole (slow slow), and just stirred up a solution that looked milky and silty... At this point I had crushed 1.2 mg (3 x Temgesic 0,4 mg) in a small 25 ml measuring cup (part of the homeless junkie kit) and dissolved them in 1.5 ml sterile water containing 0,9 % NaCl (also available as small time-stamped one-time saline water vials in the junkie goodie-bag).

B)Next step, I dumped cotton into the 25 ml cup, and let it soak up the mix. Then I took the syringe without any needle on and slurped up what I could. There was significant loss of volume, around 1/3 of it was gone...

An interesting tangential topic: Discussion of factors related to the decrease in volume (will get it's time and place). But I will probably do a shot or two more, and by then see what I figure out in terms of filtration techniques and loss of volume when the smart-ass micron filters are unavailable atm. So I will post something soon... it undoubtedly effects the actual dose injected (e.g. how much volume loss should be expected from hydrostatic bonding to and absorption in non-active ingredients, etc.?) Temporary solution: Stick cotton in mouth used to filter pills and hope to absorb any remaining buprenorphine.)

C) Next, I slowly pressed the plunger of the surying and removed the contents into a little mixing pan from a [XXX - will find brand name and add] kit also part of the junkie goodie bag. This came with a smart atachment to the syrringe with a fine filter [XXX will add microns when I know them], so I stuck that on a new syringe and sucked up the contents from the mixing pan. Removed the phenomenal invention from the syringe, tapped, shook and plunged to get rid of air and capped it with a freshly unpacked sterile needle.

C) I used an old belt to tie around my upper arm, and just went for it. I ended up on third try (different places) injecting into the Brachial vein about 3 cm from the center of my inner elbow The reason I tried multiple times was because I used the drawback technique, to check for significant blood flow; this was a bitch to handle without the needle moving all over the place (one needs to find the proper grip to keep the tip of the needle where it is supposed to be). And when I finaly did get it (the drawback of blood from successfully penetrating a vein), it wasn't as dramatic as in the movies.... not so burstful or gushy, more just a slow viscous ooze and sinking of blood in the less dense Bupe solution. And then slowly I emptied the contents, pulled out the needle, undid the belt, and ...

I will admit. I like to be in control. Control of myself, control of my emotions, control over how my life is playing out. I am not that interested in controlling other people's actions, but when their actions infringe upon my ability to carry out my plans, I am affected, and upset.

My partner's drug use coming to light explains a lot of the recurring arguments through out our relationship.
I would continually lament about how I felt like I needed to take care of everything, because if I didn't, it wouldn't get done. He would brush it off, saying that of course it would get done, or that it didn't matter. He always failed to see the benefits of a structured life and a clean house. He is only 3 days sober and already he has begun to see that there is good in the simplicity of life. Good in a clean living environment, good in a busy, well organized schedule. At least that is how it seems from the outside. So perhaps part of his childishness was a result of his addiction. Or his addiction was a result of his childishness. In either case, there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel for him. Which thrills me to no end, I only wonder if the same light will spill over into our relationship.

it seems like forever since we spoke. it was probably about twice as long as we'd actually talked. i have light tears in my eyes. haven't had a full blown cry yet...the day is young...gotta take gma to Dr today. I don't think she really needs to go. i shortened her appt to today. went to dentist yesterday....gonna get all new choppers. I may end up with with my car paid off too, here shortly. new teeth...paid off car....Tammie, i'm not gonna want to stay here after my gma passes. I may end up in Albuquerque. remember... albu..que..r..que. i remember teaching you how to remember it. dammit, i sure do miss you!
tears come now.

I just took 4 1mg klonopon about an hour ago. will it hurt me to tal4 soma now?

I took 5 mg Klonopin about an hour ago and I'm wondering if I can take 4mg of Soma now.

$2200 dentures are in my future. glad, really, to get it all done. it might feel like shit for awhite but it needed done. plus my car may get paid off. damn, some luck...but still not as lucky as meeting you and spending time with you. i printed out my phone bill and am going to try to figure out how long we might have spoken. thanks for understanding paws, i don't know if that was my trip or not but you were quite understanding. i hurt you with my mistrust and i'm so, so sorry. i believe you'd do what you told me. there is the question of if you had a fall back in NM and you said no but you did have some relation which you told me you weren't close with and deana agrees. so you didn't really lie but deana would do anything for you in NM. i'll probably cry at bedtime over you. already way overspent for april. good night, Tammie, I love you.

I'm not dead. I haven't posted in a while because I'm loving life.

I made it through thirty days of intense inpatient rehab. I am in therapy and am attending Narcotics Anonymous meetings. My boyfriend went through some counseling while I was away as well, and it really helped him understand.

You can kinda see the change in me. I wear the same clothes, I do my hair and makeup the same, I live in the same house . . . but where you really see the change is in my family.

My boyfriend is much more romantic with me. He makes me nice dinners. We go OUT now. We can TALK, because it's actually ME talking and not the meth.

My daughter is even more of a ray of sunshine than she was when mommy was on drugs. She had her first sleepover last weekend and loved it! Her friends could actually come over because mommy wasn't smoking a bowl or sticking a needle in her veins. Mommy wasn't fighting with dad, wasn't going crazy.

(I can't believe how smart she is . . . )

I feel great. I know I am early in the journey, but I feel absolutely positive that this time, I will stay clean.

In 2009 I wrote about a local guy, Ondo Perez. Ondo is a Manobo, the local Hill Tribe and a member of BUFIL (Bungkatol Liberation Front), the paramilitary I am involved in. Like just about every family on the island his is in the middle of an ongoing family feud, or, "Rido."

Like the feud I am in, and the kind most here are involved in, Ondo's revolves around land. His family lives on a mountaintop in Prosperidad, the provincial capitol. Our cattle operation is just downhill from his mountain. A nearby Manobo family, the Tubay Clan, had begun farming abaca (used as hemp in parts of SE Asia). They had begun clearing land long held by Ondo's folks. When the Tubays were told to find another spot they killed 6 of Ondo's family members. Ondo responded by killing 5 Tubays and went looking for more. At this point local authorities decided they ought to become involved lest the 2 clans let it spill over into the lowlands where the town proper is. Like the fools they are they sent word to Ondo not to open fire, they would be traveling to his settlement to discuss the Rido. Then, a family member who happened to have been at the army garrison overheard that the authorities were actually going there to arrest Ondo on 3 murder warrants.

Let's just say Ondo was far from pleased. In fact, he and 15 clansmen stormed an elementary school and kidnapped 125 hostages, mostly young students. The authorities quickly gave in to Ondo's demands by withdrawing the warrant and vowing publicly not to pursue additional charges related to the kidnapping. After 4 days all hostages were released unharmed.

About 3 months later (the kidnapping was in December, 2009) the army suprised Ondo and his merry men and promptly deposited them into the provincial jail.

Fast forward to this past Friday, April 01. After a school function ended and locals were trekking home 5 of Ondos clansmen, all teenagers, kidnapped 15 people, among them a 10 year old and a 13 year old. They are being held in the bush uphill from our land in Prosperidad, in a grove of facalta (a tropical hardwood) during the day and at night being moved to different homes. They are demanding the release of their clansmen. On Saturday the authorities released Ondo to act as a negotiator.

Monday, April 04, two of the hostages rode a motorcycle dirtbike into town to get medicine for the 10 year old who is ill. Stupidly the authorities grabbed them and refused to allow them to return with the meds.

Life on Mindanao, never boring. Well, that's not accurate because I find it boring as fuck but you get the point.

Speaking of feuds, our feud is on the back burner for now. As long as Uncle Allan doesn't fire his Uzi into our compound he is free to do as he wishes. Noone has been killed since Samson was found. Some may remember that he was the convicted child rapist whom Allan employed at his rice mill. An alcoholic and Shabu head (methamphetamine) he would fuck with me anytime he saw me. Then they found him buried in less than a meter of mud on Allan's road (between our compound and a cousin's compound next door is a dirt road. At the end of that road, at the base of the mountain sits Allan's rice mill). A labourer was walking into Allan's mill and saw Samson's foot sticking out of the mud. He had been shot in the back of the head and hastily dumped in a pothole, after which mud was shoveled in on top of him. Actually, he was half in the road and half under a mound of rice husks.

I think Uncle Allan got the message. Since then he won't even go to his own mill.

All this thinking about kidnapping has gotten me thinking about taking another trip to Pakistan. I have only been there once but thoroughly enjoyed it. However that was at a time when white faces (like mine) were warmly received since the US was funding the Afghan mujahadin against the FSU (Former Soviet Union).

Now? Fat chance of THAT happening. However I have a hankering to spend some time up in Peshawar.

Peshawar sits right on the border of Northwest Province, 1 of the "Tribal Areas." Foreigners need special permits and armed guards to enter the zone because of the lawlessness there. In the city itself there is a place known in English as "Smugglers Bazaar." In it you can find any manner of smuggled goods. At its far end (north side) there is a metal swing barrier, of the kind used at minor checkpoints. Past it is the "Restricted End" of the market. There you can buy any long arm you want with AK47s being the most popular. Some are made right in the market but most are made further into the sector at a town named Dara. There you can simply show a photo of a rifle and within 5 days you can have a copy of best quality, unless its one they have already manufactured in which case it takes 48 hours to make.

The best attraction for me though is the drugs (big suprise). In the stalls they display kilo blocks of opium and top quality Afghan hashish, which hands down is the best hash on the planet. Creamy brown inside, black gummy outside. Better yet, under the counter are kilo bags of heroin, #2, #4, its there in any colour, absolutely unadulterated. It is the easiest place in the world to enter the top tier of the game. They even arrange delivery to most places.

I just feel like taking that kind of a trip. Unlike the first time I will take a digicam and start documenting my travels.