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Let me preface my first blog entry with a little about myself. I'm a 26 year old Bostonian (and damn proud of it : D). Starting in college I had mild depression and then about 3 years ago a tragic loss pushed me into the major depressive category. These past three years have been spent mixing and matching medicines, none of which has totally worked. I've pretty much had general anxiety disorder along with social anxiety my whole life. I have days where I can be productive, just like a "normal" person, and then there are days when even the most simple task takes great effort. My depression has landed me in the hospital 3 times not of my own volition, twice being suicide attempts. The funniest thing I've realized on the mental ward are the number of Harvard and MIT graduates are there. I'm a (laid off) protein biochemist myself, and generally consider myself an intelligent person, but I always seem to let my depression get to me. I find myself thinking way too much; I guess depression lends to too much time to think. I know I have the tools to become successful at what I do, but its like depression are these restraints that prohibit me from being the real me, not the morose, I don't care about life me. Even that hope of a normal life sometimes doesn't make me feel like everything's going to be all right. But for now, I just have to try to cope, or as a last resort go back to the hospital. I have another blog post that I would like to attribute to my hospitalizations, but for now auf weidersehen.

I'm very experienced in various types of drug use. Because of my many problems I have access to many subscriptions. I dont abuse drugs in the wrong way but I am very aware of drugs their effects and how they can be mixed safely or dangerously. I have alot of answers and some questions too ! we can all learn things, nobody knows everything. Anyway, I'm a new member here and hope to become a very active one! I love this site, it is so friendly and everyone on it is helpful! hope to be a member for years to come ! - B

Still Monday, still June 21st, 2010 and it is now 1257PM. Same locale of course.

Continuation...

To be brief. On the west coast you have non-native tribes re-settled and this was done in the most ignorant ways. America is entirely at fault for the wars here.

Briefly, in 1899 the US came in and steamrolled an independant nation (it having legally declared independance after Spain hauled ass). Its raison d'etre was that Spain ruled it, America whipped Spain's ass, and since Spain had just left without ceding independance, America believed it "owned" the country.

Within 5 years the US defeated Filipino nationalists but the Moros continued making war until 1913 (the last group). After 1913 the US sought to assimilate the Moros and if this would not work, to commit cultural genocide by Ethnically Cleansing them via attrition.

It opened up a governmental bureau tasked with attracting voluntary settler families to come to Mindanao. Interestingly, the only settled them in the Moro lands. Then they passed laws limiting the amount of land private citizens could buy, but gave Moros a maximum equal to half the land any single non-Moro could buy. If this wasn't atrocious enough, they sold off tribal lands belonging to the Moro tribes.

Then, in the early 1950s Ramon Magasaysay, as Secretary of Defense [sic], and under direction from his American handler Edward Landsdale (of CIA in Viet Nam fame) began shipping Huk guerillas south and to add insult to injury, didn't disperse them. He settled them in ready made villages so that could sit and stew while concentrating on that same radical ideology.

On the eastern half of the island, where I live, it was much different. Entirely Lumad (Hilltribe) except for 2 coastal towns with a tiny mixed population of Christians and Lumads. People like Rizza's late grandfather ventured deep into the interior by travelling up rivers and staking out homesteads. He came at the turn of the 19th/20th Centuries but theese men were incredibly rare. Today they are the warl-rds of Eastern Mindanao.

We have 0 Muslims in Agusan del Sur, as far as official residents and we are the only province to have that, but all other eastern provinces have a bare minimum.

Getting back to Laddie...Laddie was an officer in the PC (Philippines Constalbury), an anti-insurgency paramilitary created by the US in 1913 that originally only used American officers and native troops. By Laddie's day, under the late dictator Marcos, it was entirely native.

He was deployed in West Central Mindanao, Cotabato Province which in those days included what is now 5 provinces. In 1969, just as he came, Christians and Moros began slaughtering each other on the West side of the island, with Moros doing most of the killing.

In the village of Upi, a Teduray Lumad village, an Ilonggo villager had his family slaughtered by Moros. He led a band of Teduray, who had long been victimised by Moros and formed the "Ilaga." Ilaga is Bisaya for "rat."

Under the nom de guerre "Kumander Toothpick" he and his men engaged in some rough fighting. Within 2 years his group had spread all over West Central and part of the northern coast as well. It also became infamous with several atrocities, going tit for tat with nascent Moro paramilitaries.

Under the law the PC was supposed to protect all Filipinos but in reality it supported and then colluded with the Ilaga. Toothpick dropped out, apparently unable to stomach the murder of babies and carving foetuses out of pregnant women. He was succeeded by "Kumander Bucay," whose real name is Norberto Manero Junior, a man I have talked about here in the past.

By 1972 the Maoist insurgency was up and kicking as well, with the NPA (New Peoples Army) and so the PC began trying to stomp out 2 quickly spreading fires instead of 1.

Laddie used Manero to neutralise NPA influence in that region, as well as Moro paramilitaries. It was as an anti-communist though, in the mid-1980s that Manero gained fame.

In his hometown of Tuluan, North Cotabato Province the Catholic Church had come under the sway of Libertation Theology, leftist ideology that led many adherants into the communist movement.

One such priest, a young Italian was the 2nd in charge in Tuluan. Manero and friends staked out the hut of a farmer known for having links to progressive movements, having heard that the priest in charge of the parish was en route to "protect" the faremer.

When he didn't show, but the 2nd priest did, they decided to pressure him to try and scare him. The priest didn't move away but instead talked back to them and entered the farmer's hut.

Manero and the others then his his motorcycle, maybe just bored, maybe antagonising him. The priest came out and asked for his motorcycle angrily. It was then that they shot the prest did. It was what Manero did next that made him famous. Taking a knife he butterflied the priest's chest, ripped out his heart and took a large bite, as did others.

Around that time Laddie was sent to the Visayan Island of "Samar," to battle the NPA. It was here that Laddie first said hello to the world. Lining up women and elderly villages against a wall, after failing to gain NPA Intel, the villagers were machine gunned.

I will conclude this in my next entry.

Today is Monday, June 22nd, 2010 and it is now 1210PM here in Makati, Luzon, here in the Philippines.

Where I was before where I is [sic]: After the long and boring retelling saga of a stupid and brutish incident from 2008, I had just gone to sleep in my house in Rizza's family compound on Mindanao.

The next day, or rather, later that morning (since I went to bed around 1AM) I woke up about 7 AM. In the rural areas on the Philippines, as in rural areas the world over, people rise very early, before the sun is up.

Went out to the verandah, took a plate of white rice since everyone had eaten, slathered it in soy sauce and kalamansi juice (the latter is the ubiqitous Filipino condiment, a tiny citrus fruit with orange flesh, green skin and the taste of a lemon). Wolfed down my rice and some cold water and listened to the creek that runs along that side of our compund.

In the Philippines most homes in the rural areas have what they call, in English, "dirty kitchens," meaning its open to the elements. Our verandah sits between the big house and my house, and the far end uses 1 of our warehouses as a wall as well. The length along the creek has a cinderblock wall about 1 meter high and then chainlink to the roof.

There is no entrance from either of our houses, but the space between serves as an entryway and we have a zinc roof covering it. This is how almost all kitchens are, for people with money (just grand isn't it?). Most people though simply use holes with rocks, and wood, campfires you might say though in the olden days they would have the fire inside. They would build what Westerners call a "sandbox," fill it with ashes, place 3 large river stones in it and pots would rest atop the stones, with fires built UNDER the pot but ATOP the ashes. Sadly, they would breathe in all that soot day after day but when one considers that Betel Nut usage was almost 100% from the age of 3 or 4 onward it isn't much of a threat. People didn't live long, though today most Mindanowans live to 54, if war or disaster doesn't kill them first.

The chainlink offers a spectacular view. One of our rice paddies, about 200 hectares. If the photos ("Gallery") are still up you can see that view yourself. Its the photo of me in a beige teeshirt sucking on a kalamansi, very sour, mountains far in the distance, some strands of facalta trees and palms, idyllic.

Dad was already busy changing grinding stones on one of the machines, since each grinder goes through a set every 5 or 6 days and we have a lot of grinders in each mill. Mom was doing her books so I sat down next to her as I often do and we talked.

Of course my marriage was the subject, no avoiding that one, and since I promised Mom I wouldn't discuss Rizza online, at least in an overtly negative way, I will just say that I made fun of her boyfriend's goiter. Yep, she left me for some guy with a giant bubble growing out the side of his neck, how pathetic does that make me? Hahahahahahahahaha. Ahhhh, what a wonderful 2 years it has been.

So, as we were sitting there the mayor drove up on his motorcycle. In SE Asia they are really "mopeds," and they are the most common form of private transport. Sometimes out in the bush, and Agusan del Sur Province is as "bush" as the Philippines gets, you will see a "dirtbike." Dad used to use one but got too "big" (wink) for it and so he gave it to our chief driver Mario as a present.

The Mayor, whose sister is my "G-Dmother," and whose father a close associate of mine in the paramilitary, came to tell me his father wished to see me.

His father is Col. Carlos "Charlie" Lademora but those closest to him call him "Laddie." He became somewhat famous in Mindanao when Newsweek did a piece on him, "Charlie's Deadly Angels," I think in 1984, when I first started going to Mindanao.

Laddie is an Ilonggo, a tribe from the island of Iolio and part of the island of Negro who speak a Bisayan language called "Hilgaynon." Filipinos swear it sounds "sweet" and "melodic" but damned if I can tell. I am conversant in it but nowhere nearly as much that I would ever be able to discern such a trait.

The islands are Bisayan islands (Visayan Islands, Central Philippines). Cebu is one as well but it is at the eastern extreme and Iolio is at the west so you COULD say, Cebuanos as Eastern Bisaya and Ilonggos are Western Bisaya though both claim the same ancestry, by way of Borneo.

Mindanao has 3 kinds of people, or social divisions. You have the "Moros," or "Bangsamoro" (Moro Nation). They are the "Muslim-Filipinos" and encompass 13 ethno-lingustic groups. Mindanao proper has 4 Moro tribes native to it: Maguindanao, Maranao, Iranun and Kagan (Tagkaoala). With out getting into a long explanation, they only converted to Islam about 2 generations before the Spanish arrived in the Philippines en masse, except for the Kagan who only converted in the early 1900s.

Then you have the "Lumad." Lumad are 18 ethno-lingustic groups and are any tribe that is neither Moro nor "Christian." You could simply say "Animists," or as I do, "Hilltribes."

Then the "Christians." Almost all are Bisaya, Cebuanos like Rizza or Ilonggo like Laddie. Generally speaking, the eastern half of the island is all Cebuano and Lumad, where as the western half, especially the central and southern portions are Moro and a spinkling of Lumad.

There are also Christians there in the west, all settled in Government relocation schemes. They are mostly Ilonggos but also Ilokanos and Tagalogs from Luzon who were forcibly relocated in Amnesty Programmes for the country's original communist insurgents, the 1940s/1950s era Hukbulukahap, a.k.a. "Huk."

I will have to continue because of the character count...

Thanks you guys. My doc is totally unaware that I've ever done meth or had any issues with any drugs period. We've never talked about any of that, so the only drug she's aware of my using is the one she writes. That said, I do know she is fairly open minded about writing Rx for controlled substance, if there's a good enough reason. One of my ex dealers happened to have her as his doc too. He sold speed, probably smoked as much or more PLUS he out & out lied about having ADD, lol, but she bought his story. She had him on some high dose ritalin pills 3 times a day, (8 ball/day he smoked,) until his wife who always went with him to his appointments told the doc that he was "all over the board" on whatever pills she wrote for him LOL.

Since he acted like a hamster in a cartoon stuck on permanent fast forward, spinning 190mph, going nowhere fast....it was freaken obvious, even to a woman that seems as naive as his wife. I don't want the Rx for recreation, I actually want to give the black market stuff a rest & simply be able to focus......& not feel the need to sleep practically every second I'm not at work!

My 1st question is for vyvanse...how did you explain your situation to your doc to get him/her to write it for you?

Question: Is this stuff terribly expensive? I have health insurance, but drugs that not available in generic, won't be covered. What doses does it come in & how many times a day did you take worked best for theraputic purposes?

Going through a dealer costs me $65/wk.... I'm hoping the Rx stuff won't be any more expensive than what I pay now, but my main concern is to manage the ADD symptoms & not wanna sleep all the time. I can do 2 or 3 shots of meth a day, not feel tweaked out, just focused, alert, I sleep daily, I eat, I do everything I normally do off speed minus feel the obsession to sleep too much & to STOP eating too much! On the days I medicate, I sleep & eat like a normal person but I don't wanna have to need a connect...

My doc WAS willing to write me an Rx for speed during the 2 year period I was completely clean & sober----because I was completely FAT. Being 100 lbs overweight felt more unhealthy, as I had to fight high cholesterol, borderline diabetes, high blood pressure, my ankles & feet were puffy way beyond the point of merely being unattractive, my feet hurt, exercise was a chore....all of that is gone now, lol. I dropped 80 lbs & maintaining a weight of 160-165 at 5'7"...& I'm completely happy with my current weight/size 8. Ironically, the high B/P as a result of the morbid obesity was the only reason she didn't Rx me diet pills....which I wouldn't of accepted anyway at that time. I know to make sure NOT to do any speed 3 days prior to seeing doc, so not being on speed & not being fat, B/P hasn't been an issue in the past.

My tolerance being what it is, going by above info, won't feel "tweaked out" on any Rx, but I guess I'm tripping because of already being on the Rx pain pills for the headaches. So my last question is, has anyone been on some medium to low strength Rx pain meds.....when approaching doc for vyvanse or hell anything speedy?

I'm not interested in the complete abuse of any drug anymore. I have been there for a long time and I appreciate the harm it can do. I am trying to get off and remain off opiates....I was way out of control. For myself abuse is taking something in larger doses than necessary to exagerate it's effects.

I will not take more than what is prescribed to me. I take back what I asked about supplimenting with additional opiates. I would not consider that. I don't even know why I wrote that....I am interested in the chemistry of the drugs I take. I read somewhere that buprinorphine leaves certain opiate receptors open. That made me curious as to what would fit with the suboxone.
I also mentioned the injection option because I was ruling that out. I have never injected any drug and never will. That is just something I wont do..I am not judging those that do use needles, that is part of their ceremony...not part of mine.

I am now in a situation where I am in recovery....a very long way from being recovered...but there is a part of me that wants to feel something more. I wanted control and I think I have found it with the program I am on. I am using the program to regain control of my habit..and eventually eliminate it altogether. I simply like the feeling that this regiment provides and am curious to see if I can use it (not abuse it) to it's fullest potential, in the end it will take me to where it is designed to take me, I will stop using completely, but in the meantime I am going to enjoy the ride.
I hope I am not coming across as indifferent to anyone's struggles or as a cocky naive jerk. I have had plenty of experience with drugs and have come through the other side relatively unscathed, but opiates really got a hold of me and changed me in every way. They used to be utility drug for me. At first pain management...was nearly killed by some bitch in Grand Prix whilst minding my own business on my motorcycle.....but I digress....I used the meds because they drove me/enabled me to enjoy the the mundane nature of my job, environmental engineering, lots of stats, lots of lab work, lots of testing, I found a little artificial passion in my pain meds lets say. I wasn't fooling myself but at the same time I had no idea the hold that they could have on someone.
Even though I researched different types of opiates I wasn't prepared for the endgame. Fast forward 12 years and I chose, again only after research and completely loosing any self control, suboxone over methadone. If you know anything about methadone then you will know that the quicker road to cleansville is by way of suboxone. So bottom line is I anticipate the day where I will be off opiates altogether but in the meantime I intend to USE what I have at my disposal to its fullest potential....which is why I seek advice.
The part of me that is curious about this is the addict in me. I know this. To keep that part of me at bay I want to feed it using the diet of maintenance meds that I am allowed to have. I think this is a way to keep myself in check. I went on the program after using for 12 years. Fair to say that the last 6 of those years I was abusing and the last year I was a full on wreckless, selfish, shameless addict.
To Dave "Think before You Post", that comment about wikipedia/Hunter.S.Thompson was only a lame joke. Certainly not meant to offend or belittle the value of this website. Quite the opposite. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a satirical version of a Bluelight blog. I was trying to be lighthearted and analogize my take on things.
One question though ......what are blogs for? I've never blogged or journaled before about anything. I see some people just write their days thoughts or tribulations, others post jokes or surveys/guessing games. Do blogs have categories or are they just blogs regardless of subject?

I used to HATE Sunday mornings. I'd wake up angry. Really angry. Angry that I was still alive, that I was out of drugs, out of money. Angry at what myself for what I had done the night before.

One Sunday morning in particular will stick out with me always.

The night before, I had been getting high (of course) at my neighbor's apartment. I was living with my Mom at the time, and she was sick of me shooting heroin all the time. I hadn't been stealing from her or anything but I was always high and being an asshole or on suboxone and being an asshole.

Anyway, we had run out of dope. I decided to go home, but my Mom had locked me out. I didn't have a key and she had gone to bed. So I began throwing small stones at her bedroom window, calling the house phone etc.

This went on for a while, probably not as long as it seemed to me. Eventually I lost my patience and threw a bigger rock through her window, breaking the glass and probably scattering some of it onto the bed she was sleeping in.

Still, she didn't get up.

So I called 911 and told them that I feared my mom was suicidal, that she had been drinking, and that I was afraid she was dead or dying inside her apartment.

Mind you, I could have easily just slept on my neighbor's couch.

The police and paramedics show up. The whole neighborhood is watching as they break the deadbolt on my mom's front door. The police make sure she's okay and then they leave.

I go inside and go to bed.

Words cannot describe the guilt and self-loathing I felt the next morning.




Now it's Sunday morning. I just went with my roommate to walk his dogs. There's no guilt, no remorse, no misery. I felt the Florida sun on my back and it felt good.

I would love to hear about optimizing my Suboxone use. I am on a 12mg daily regiment and have been for two months.
I have played around with my "carrie doses" a little bit. Taking 2mg nasally waiting then another 2mg about an hour later and then 8mg sublingually about an hour after that. Pretty good but I think there is greater potential in there. I will not inject, just a personal thing. Besides I did read this somewhere here, that injection of anything pill form is not easy and poses more risk than reward.
My suboxone regiment is 4 witnessed doses and 3 take homes per week. This is where I think it gets a bit sticky. 4 days a week I have to take a full 12mg all at once as it is witnessed and then for 3 days I can tinker with timing and strength of dose.
Adherence to the program will get me to full carries in about another 2 months. I have really behaved myself and completely stayed away from any other opiates of any kind since starting the suboxone. Which I must say has not been that difficult for the most part. The nature of the suboxone, from what I understand, makes it difficult to get where I used to go on other types of opiates period. I understand a little about the ceiling effect with the buprenorphine. Also the partial agonist structure of suboxone as a whole. I should mention that I am seeking the optimization of the "buzz" for the euphoria not for pain management. I was hoping that it is perhaps achievable by using timing or a maybe a complimentary opiate that fits into the available receptor puzzle. I have to provide a urine sample once a week which obviously is screened for opiates other than the prescribed medication.

Just spit balling here.... and again I haven't searched the threads for an answer....I hope to have someone read this and maybe give me some pointers based on experience and any other similarities. Honestly I am not even sure if this is what a blog is for.....but when I need to ask or say something where I think I can gain from or will contribute to the "Bluelight District", then I will "Blog it"

Awaiting your wisdom

Hi a have cocain for sell a sending from colombia a realy good price and 100% my email is [email protected].

I love this site. The whole idea behind it and the sense of kinship it lends to people who would other wise feel alone is a good thing.
First off I am not a physician or an expert on pharmaceuticals. I do know a little bit about opiates, and that knowledge is based on use and research. And the use of one has led to the use and research of this maintenance drug called Suboxone. I have been taking it for almost two months daily. I'd like to clear the air about a few things people seem to either confuse and/or have been misinformed on regarding the two main ingredients in suboxone.

The main and functioning drug is buprenorphine. The reason I say "functioning drug" is because the second drug that makes the drug suboxone is called Naloxone. Naloxone was added to prevent the drug from being injected. When Saboxone is taken sublingually the Naloxone does nothing, that is to say, it does not do what it was put there to do. If Suboxone is injected intravenously the Naloxone causes severe withdrawal symptoms. The Naloxone is referred to as a full opiate antagonist. Being an antagonist it fights off the molecular interaction between opiates and the receptors in the brain. It is quite interesting how it does it's job when taken one way and it does nothing when taken another. It has to do with the size of the Naloxone molecule. It is too large to pass through the lining in the mouth or nasal cavity so it is forced through the gastrointestinal tract which neutralizes it's effects due to it's first pass characteristics. When taken properly the naloxone has no function.

The main ingredient buprenorphine is itself a very potent opiate. It is classified as a partial agonist. I think that it is classified this way because it is able to remove all other opiate molecules from the receptors instead of joining them. It has a much longer half life than most full agonists and remains active for 24-36 hours. Like it's paired ingredient naloxone, it is rendered neutral or ineffective if swallowed due to its first pass nature. Contrary to what people say, it is a very effective pain reliever, even in small doses. This is truer when buprenorphine is administered intravenously.

Suboxone will not provide the same euphoria that a full agonist provides but it certainly produces a pleasant "buzz" about 45min-1 hour after the dose is dissolved in the mouth. This feeling generally lasts at a noticeable intensity for several hours (even after taking the same dose for two months). This may not be true for everyone.

I will check back later for any opinions or questions about this. I have lots more to say but am probably pushing it a bit. One look at the length of this it probably won't be read by to many.

I hope everyone is well, playing safe and smart. All I can suggest is that you use in a way that gets you the most for the least. Least meaning the negative impact that the fun may cause physically,emotionally and financially. You have to survive it to have enjoyed it..and on and on..!

<!--Live now, for there is nothing in death.-->

...

actually its not that bad, i just wanted to use some alliteration, lol.

but yea...the other day a good friend of mine (my best friend - my fucking brother from another mother, as cliche as that is) added me on facebook. only thing is, i haven't spoken to him in like 3 years. i really don't wanna fuck my head up talking to him again, cuz we both get really attached. like, he's the type of dude that if you're the one he's chilling with (he tends to take turns chilling with different people), he's chilling with you pretty much 24/7. now, like i said, i haven't spoken to him in probably 3 years, so who knows, maybe he's changed. and i don't even live near him (like 6 hours in the car), but even just getting back on the phone with him scares me. i have a real hard time with long distance relationships/friendships and if i start talking to dude again on the phone constantly, shit is gonna EAT at me not being able to see him and hang out all the time. cuz thats all i'm used to with him. sophomore, junior and senior year in high school i seriously chilled with him every single day. when i had my own place in 2003 (for 6 months, until my life fell apart), he all but lived at my apartment, along with all my other friends. we were a family and we barely ever were away from each other. i've shared some of the best times of my life with dude, but i'm really afraid to get close again. and please...i'm not talkin no gay shit (not that there's anything wrong with that, lol), but i truly love my friend, my brother and its been easier the past couple years just knowing that he's alright and not being in direct contact with him. i can't avoid him, but i also can't afford to get too close again at this point in my life. i can't afford for something to happen (more than likely my fault) and have this friendship ripped away from me again. fuck it...we'll see what happens. *you're almost 26 years old, beanfiend, man the fuck up!*

Damn. I feel terrible this morning. I forgot that sometimes even after I'm detoxed and clean that some days still just suck. And I can't stop thinking about that one "small" thing. Getting high. I'm trying not to discuss it too much.

Realizing things sucks, especially things that you had under control. I started really smoking weed again and selling a good amount too and all of a sudden (no it's not the specific type of weed I have right now) I don't enjoy getting high. I don't enjoy shit.

I substituted a substance for way too much there for a few months and I guess it's taking a while for me to rebound and get "back to normal." Bottom line, I'm depressed. And there's this whole parallel with my father who is legit bipolar. You know, like, I'm manic when I'm using opiates. Maybe I even mask the mania with the drug. Or maybe as I'm getting too manic, I have a high likelihood of relapse. What does that say about depression and me then?

I hate that comparison, however genetically likely. I feel a slave to it a lot of days. Scratch that; slave is a bit dramatic. I feel the influence of the comparison by professionals and relatives. "He's bipolar, just like his father." This is why I can never remain in the care of any type of mental health doctor even though I probably need to desperately. That's another one of those things I'm still having trouble figuring out. Do I or don't I need to be in therapy? There are as many reasons for as there are against. And which parts of my personality are controlling those reasons. Who or what is creating these circumstances?

Oh yea, I got this awful idea today. I'd write a story, script, or some type of long prose piece about someone in a similar situation as me: Older college student, long-term unmarried girlfriend, shitty car, lives with his parents, opiate-addicted, manic-depressive, with terrible parents (possibly why he turned out this way) and an alcoholic brother. To EVERYONE he hides his selling of weed, hides his opiate addiction, lies. Would this be a good story? It's probably been written before. Hell, it's probably been lived before. I'm never the first at anything, nor do I especially want to be. No shit, as many of these kind of stories are true, this one is.

I'm pretty tired of feeling this way. It's how things really are though. I don't want to take something that helps me forget that shit. It's bad stuff and I'm responsible for it. Why shouldn't I feel bad for it? I shouldn't pawn it off on an SSRI or something else like I do pain pills. I don't really do it with pot. It's not really like that, you know? But I mean won't me feeling like shit about something for long enough force me to take steps to change that thing?

Damn that was some dark shit. I scored a large staining job yesterday. I had talked about starting my own business and all that. Well this isn't a true "I'm committing myself to doing that" step towards working for myself. But this is a job that will easily put $500 in my pocket. So fuckin kudos to me, damnit.

Hey. I did some oxy yesterday and I feel wonderful today. I just want to get that out of the way before I talk about anything else.

I didn't post in the blog yesterday at all!!! I was busy outside building a trellis/roof sort of thing for our new Lawn & Garden Department. It was actually a lot of fun. I was out with the guys talking jokes and just building. We got it up quick enough for me to paint it too. These are the days where I enjoy my profession. Maybe I should become a painter/small repairs guy and start my own business.

Seriously. I could start small and get a few jobs here and there and still keep my full time position @ the building supplies joint. If I could bring in maybe $500/week, I'd fully quit my job. Obviously I don't make that much money now but, screw it. If I could do something that pays the bills without having some asshole boss telling me what the fuck to do all the time, that'd just be nice.

I've even got a few ppl that would work with me, paid of course, who hate their jobs as well. 25 is a weird age (not that other ages aren't more awkward and strange). I just feel like I'm at the beginning of the REAL or profound section of my life. I feel the need to be more serious more often. Work is quickly becoming the most dominant part of what I have going on day-to-day.

It's just a thought, but I mean...if I had to leave this position for some reason (drug test), at least I'd have some kind of plan to fall back on. I've done some under-the-table work on the side before and it always worked well. I'm sure those customers would provide references for my craftsmanship.

I'm thinking I could paint, stain, repair drywall, build decks, build overhead coverings, lay concrete slabs, possibly even do a little plumbing. I know what; I should start a website: NoborusFixing.com.

Maybe in a year from now I'll be blogging about how my business has grown from a 1 person outfit to a whole entourage of painters and Mr. Fix-it's, all in my crew.

I'm not depressed today b/c I did oxy yesterday. I'm anti-depressed. Isn't that the saddest part about this whole post?

I can't go on like this. That bitch won't relent. I have only so much income. She doesn't care that I NEED medical care, won't have $ to pay for medicine, or that after tonight I will have 2 walk 4 miles in a bad neighborhood to get to work because I can't afford to pay $60/wk just to get to work, plus her $100/wk, then theres phone bill/mo and weekly Rx/bus money/food money/my check is GONE. I've explained tonight for the 999,999th time & she won't budge, so fine. I don't see that I have any other alternative other than to leave. Fucking Christ I can't seem to find any way AROUND this!!!


On the up side, I can't believe my famous 1/2 bro actually said YES to allowing me 2 connect with him on FB. No, it's not a GROUP or CLUB
page, it's the real deal. Granted, it's only a fucking FB friend add, but still, I so fully expected to be denied the add. I'm glad he accepted me,
I've kept it simple, no asking for anything, no "hey u remember me..." blah blah, merely a simple "hi howya doin," generic sentence. That's
all I wrote. I'm keeping it simple & hell I doubt it will ever go beyond that, unless & until I get some of my scandalous, but good writings
published & in circulation. I really should. I know I'm good, but again, it's just a matter of overcoming this fucked up lazy gene & perhaps this,
"let's not try so we don't fail," crap or whatever way my brain is defectively wired.

Tried to buy car yesterday. Short story, another freaken nightmare, I put $ out, the damn thing broke, I got my $ back today + a ride home
after work this morning. And more criticism from my SMOTHER of course, who never fails to remind me about how "you haven't paid rent
in a year" blah blah, yeah fuck you bitch. I HAVE been paying at least $250-$300/mo the last fucking year but she goes off about how that
doesn't go towards rent, only the damn loan for the lawyer back in Jan 2007, just as I knew she would. After the car broke last night, hell
I'm gona shower, deal with the bitch. IM SO MAD!! I am tired of being reminded of how FUCK HER!!!

I'm too angry to write. Bottom line: Again the bitch is saying $400/mo & go buy car from used car lot.....I. CANT. AFFORD. TO. ON. MY.
LOUSY. LOW. MOTHERFUCKING. INCOME!!!!!!!! She will not hear me. She demanded her $500 back, therefore, I see no other choice than
to tell her to fuck herself, I WILL PAY HER HER GODDAMNED DUMB ASS LOAN IN 3 MONTHS. I'm done wi9th this dumb no $ to buy a car
shit, fuck her I should rent cheap room in city where I work that way I can at least put this freaken survival headache behind me!!!!! right now
i hate her every bit as much as she hates me.

"Money alone does not lift burdens...

The world is in need of time, and if we have but one hour to spare, we are wealthy.

It takes time to listen and to comfort, it takes time to teach and to encourage, and it takes time to feed and to clothe.

We all have the gift to lift each other's burdens and to make a difference in somebody's life."

~ Hans B. Ringger

I tried the magic methamphetamine 2 months before this entry - not long after I turned 15
it seemed so new and cool even tho I'd used it evry day since I tried it!

i pulled the wool over Mum's eyes till oneday she walked in on me shooting up
Dad was a stoner and a tripper, but many of his mates went further

I was scared of Dad - the guy beat me daily - but P mattered more
looking back I was an addict from day 1

26/7/99 (AGE 15) - AN ADDICT DOESNT FOOL AN EX-DRUGGIE
Still feeling good - Valium-induced good but what the hell! I seem to swing a bit these days - I'm either very stoned and sleepy and mellow (well-enhanced by the crash) or I'm up in the land of crystal meth where I'm actually happy for the first time in my life. Right now I'm just tweaking a bit but this batch is disappointingly short-acting. I had a boring day - I wish Jay was still in Mt Roskill, then I wouldn't have to spend all my time smoking alone! When I got home after a visit to Joe's when he got home from karate, I rang Laura, Christiana, Alisha and the Shack.
Laura seems cool except she's worried because her Tae Kwon Do instructor knows now that she has a crush on him (ahhh GHB). Christi was watching the soccer and Alisha was coming down from the meth she buys in point bags at Papakura tinniehouses. Dodgy yellowy powder. Makes me shudder. So those were short convos.
As for the people at the Stoner Shack - Adrienne's had an asthma attack and Rasty's got the flu so I just chatted to Herbs and Jayson. Then Dad took me out to dinner at a Thai restaurant with his new girlfriend and her son.
I picked at my food and he said snidely something about how I never seemed to eat anymore then he asked 'which drug it was' on the way to drop me home.
I said 'WHAAAAT!?'
How do you fool him though? He was a drug user!

NB - FIRSTLY THESE NAMES COULD BE ALIASES
Jayson (Jay) - a friend I had a major crush on
Mt Roskill - a suburb near where I live, and of course, a mountain in the middle of it
Joe - a mate born into the gang I used to cook for
Laura - probably my oldest friend who's still a friend, even though now she's clean
Christiana - my girlfriend at the time
Alisha - my ex, though we were friends for years before having a relationship
Stoner Shack ('the Shack') - basically where Rasty's whanau lived out west Auckland and theyd take in any stoner who wanted to doss down and live off the dole there (whanau is Maori for family)
Papakura - the southernmost suburb of Auckland, where I lived for about a year once
tinniehouse - where anyone can go to buy foil packages (20$ 'bullets' called tinnies) of weed; run by gangs usually, and heard of by word of mouth (some sell points of meth too but its never good stuff)
Adrienne - my first 'best friend' at intermediate school, who got into drugs with me; now totally clean, going to NA after a 5yr jail sentence (shortened majorly) and working on a sheep station in the wops
Rasty - real name need not b mentioned; Adriennes ex-husband who told me he was Jamaican when I first met him (he is clearly Maori) and loves weed but hates other drugs (trouble is he smoked weed from age 6 onwards)
Herbs - another ex of mine and once Rasty's best friend, now another victim of P and a violent paranoid guy

Jan 5th, 2005
Mum's birthday today - I've had a pretty ace day and I'm full of good food and good drugs so it's been a good day.
On Wednesday I woke up late because I took too many pills the night before (I took some Phenergan as well, to take the opiate itch away - told Mum it was fleas making me itch....) and didn't come around until the afternoon when I woke with the shits. I wasn't feeling very well altogether until I had another pill to take the edge off - then I was hungry as a horse and feeling generous so I took Liam to Ollie's and bought us lunch.
I purposefully fueled up big-time because I planned to ride the glass boat with Captain Methamphetamine later and you need that fuel when you're tweaking or Captain Methamphetamine decides to snack on fried mussels (well....muscles) and you lose shape. Losing shape never bothered me till a doctor told me if I kept using meth I was going to start burning away the muscles around my heart and lungs. So now I eat no matter what.
After Ollie's I ritualistically burned some incense while I dug into that lovely crystal meth I got from Julian - five generous scoops full so that there was a 'layer effect' going on on the floor of the vessel and when it heated there was a pool big enough to bloody swim in.
Of course it hit me so hard I nearly jumped out the fucking window! Full of Pure energy (the other way you can tell I'm fried - I become the fountain of amphetamine-laced wit) I rounded up Liam and the dogs and we had a power walk around Onehunga Bay, where I bored Liam babbling on at seven-hundred miles per hour about how I didn't think it was fair the government bringing drug-testing on the roads to New Zealand because some drugs ('methamphetamine, just for example....') make you a better driver.
A big French mastiff, with a set of balls like brass knockers, came over to play with Cullen and Lola and it stopped to sniff Liam then proceded to pee all down his leg. I was beside myself!
Liam laughed awkwardly (well, pseudo-laughed) then dragged me off home, insisting that he drive because over his dead body was he being caught being driven by someone so 'obviously' high on P. I suppose I was hopping like the Energizer Bunny and laughing like Spongebob Squarepants.
Goddamn I'm barbecued - all aboard...I'm going off the rails on a crazy boat! (Well at least I'm not shooting it at the moment!)
I spent the rest of that afternoon (and evening) watching Outrageous Fortune, chain-smoking, talking to inanimate objects and dogs and anything that would listen. I wrote a letter to Charlie, which I'll send off with a stash of ice, speed, weed, codeine, coke and Ritalin, for a belated Christmas drug binge.
I'm nice but I have ulterior motives - I'm pleading to be sent some of his oxy and Dilaudid. I'm just beginning to find morphine isn't exactly working again and I don't want to have to go back to 'opioids I have to inject' (ie. homebake and heroin). Fuck I'm turning back into a junkie.
Hey, stop thinking like this, Lydia, you're high on crack - who cares what happens in the future...just enjoy the fucking P while it lasts!

NB. Liam is my younger, long-suffering brother, who did 'all the right things' in life.
Cullen and Lola were the dogs we had at that time (we still have Lola, the pitbull/bulldog/labrador/mastiff, but Cullen, the labrador, had to move on, as he kept escaping out of our property!)
Charlie is an alter-ego for a druggie penpal I had at the time, living in the States (we didn't hav oxy over here back then - we still dont hav dillys )....and yes we did send drugs to each other with our letters....I won't go into how we managed it but it was pretty dangerous of us!

You know, for the last , say 6 months or so, I have been on an emotional roller coaster.
I thought therapy was going really well for me- but I feel like I am so overwhelmed by the things coming out in therapy that I am shutting down mentally and opening up emotionally. I have been pretty good at thinking my feelings through and obviously that is not happening anymore. I am shutting down and just letting myself wallow in my depression some days. I almost want to stop going.
My therapist is cool- She is open minded and just generally a cool person. She is into religions (Buddhism mostly ) and Astrology-
She totally was open to me telling her about me communicating with spirits (yeah, yeah- say what you will) and my intuition-
She understood it actually. The feelings of panic and anxiety that 'could this thought be a prediction?' b/c all of these other thoughts were.....
I know this sounds silly to people who don't get it or haven't experienced it.....
But she gets it- So I like her.
She has encouraged me to open up more to myself.....Um, in a way that I thought was positive. She made me realize I give myself no slack and though I am totally accepting of other peoples faults I beat up on myself......
She helped me to accept that though I cope and am okay- I will always be growing from and carrying the weight of my past sexual issues- My parental issues- my extended family issues.
I used to put them away and just not deal with them. I would say its like a filing cabinet- I just put the thought in the cabinet and locked it up-
Well, she unlocked it and I THOUGHT this was a good thing......
But turns out it is making me a basket case.
And then yesterday I kind of snapped on her......
I guess b/c what she said made me lose a little bt of faith in how solid the work we were doing was......
I told her that I have been mean to people, particularly my husband.
He and I got in a fight and I was downright hateful to him.
Though my point and complaints were valid, my presentation ruined it and made me look like my complaints were coming from an irrational place.
I channeled everything I hate and it came spewing out of my mouth.
I feel that when you say things that are purposefully hurtful, it is verbally abusive.
THIS took me a long time to face b/c I always made excuses for other people tearing me down verbally- Finally I admitted to myself that I had been verbally/emotionally abused and it wasn't okay-
Then there I was doing this to someone else.
My therapist told me it was okay- I snapped back without hesitating (which was not right, I should have thought it through) That it was in no way okay and I'm not going to sit there and let her, or myself make any excuses for that sort of behavior. Her eyes got all big and then I felt like an asshole all over again.
I know she was trying to keep me from carrying too much guilt (b/c that is an issue for me- and didn't want me to beat myself up) She even said "I was just trying to make you feel better"!!
But I have told her in the past that I never want to NOT take responsibility for the wrong I do, have done etc. If I am wrong I want to recognize it, apologize and learn from it.....I felt like she was suffocating that part of me- Trying to make excuses for me.......
Which is what I have done for others and that makes me sick.

I feel like I'm sinking and not able to be logical or stable anymore.
I don't know how to get back on solid ground again.
Maybe I will feel different tomorrow.

been on hiatus for two years. i don't do drugs anymore so i guess it hasn't been on my priority list to visit the boards here lately.

but wow! i thought my vbjournal was gone ages ago. just spent some time reading old entries. man, i was insane back in the day!

july 11 2010 will be my 24th birthday and mark the third year i've been sober. i'm actually working in a rehab now.... crazy shit how much things have changed.

A little bit more about my time as a commodities broker.

I started out selling currency options. Options can be pretty confusing, and truth be told; I still don't understand everything about them. When I was doing it, currencies were a completely unregulated market. There were dozens of firms in South Florida doing it because there was no one to say whether we were upholding any type of ethical code. Many companies were outright robbing their clients, and lying to them as to whether they actually owned any contracts. Mine was a little bit more legit.

The idea behind an option is that, for a small dollar amount, one can leverage a large amount of a given commodity, or stock, or currency. Contract sizes differ from commodity to commodity, but when I started out, we were selling Euro/USD call options.

We were predicting that the US dollar would lose value against the Euro. My job was to call people up, get them excited about it, convince them that they could make a lot of money, and then have them send our clearing firm $5-$10,000.

The problem is, usually, the options would lose value pretty rapidly, and expire. The investment would be worth zero in less than three months time.

Now, we actually had an outside clearing firm, called PFG at the time. The company was simply collecting commission on the options they sold. However, as I mentioned before, the group of people I worked for had been doing this in Spain prior to coming to Florida.

While they were in Spain they owned their clearing firm and their brokerage.

That's important because they were able to sell their own options. They could sell you an option, collect commission on the sale in their left pocket, AND put the money you actually spent on the option in their right pocket.

So they would charge HUGE commission and sell you a shitty position. You might as well have been handing them ten thousand dollars and then walking away.

Eventually from what I understand, Interpol caught up with them and froze their clearing firm's account. It had something like ten million in it. They moved to Florida.

Now, I didn't know all that when I started working for them. All I knew was, there's a lot of successful people around, I'm living in a halfway house, I want to drive a SL600, and I want Zegna suits, and Gucci shoes, etc etc. And I hadn't seen the movie Boiler Room.

When I started working for these guys they had already established a commodities firm. Commodities are highly regulated. One must obtain a license to sell them, you gotta pass an exam and a very thorough criminal background check.

There were three guys who owned these two firms. Of the three, two had been in Spain, one of them had his commodities license pulled while he was out there, and one had a felony in Florida for cocaine trafficking.

The guy with the clean record started up a legit commodities company with money the other two gave him. He then hired them as consultants on the books and paid them that way.

Which is one reason I don't have a license anymore.

The other reason is, they didn't give a shit about making people money. They were in it for the commission. They gave their employees a story that makes sense, and trained them to pitch it on the phone. We didn't have any real use for market knowledge. We were salesmen. So they hired a guy to train us to pass the series 3 exam, and then they gave the testing agency a letter saying that English wasn't our first language, buying us an extra hour to pass the test.

Well, The National Futures Association, which is basically the Securities Exchange Commission for commodities markets, found out.

And after a hearing in Chicago they tore our licenses up.

Which is fine. I may only know a portion of the financial world. I don't believe I saw the ugliest part, and certainly not the best part. But from what I saw, it's definitely not the place for me.

I am now working in a treatment center. And I found out yesterday that I've been approved for a few grants to get back into school. My experience as a 'broker' is one that taught me a lot, but I consider it kind of a bump along a road. The greed, the deception. It's too much.

Ok, so.

I believe my vbjournal covered the bulk of my drug use. I became physically dependent on heroin at the age of seventeen. Lots of misery and obsession and repetition followed.

Luckily when I was ready, my cousin and my uncle both put down some money and I was able to move from Ellicott City, which is just west of Baltimore, into a halfway house in Boca Raton, Florida.

So in July of 2007. I found myself, on my 21st birthday, wandering around East Boca on foot. I can remember the sun beating me down, sweat dripping from every pore on my body. I had been through detox, but I didn't sleep through the night for months. That day I couldn't find my way out of my neighborhood for what felt like hours. The humidity coupled with my brain and body, angry for lack of heroin, formed an impenetrable veil of confusion and exhaustion.

I ended up making my way over to the business office at the halfway house. A guy named Carlo recognized me as a new resident.

Carlo was charged with the duty of convincing addicts and alcoholics, or their parents, that this particular halfway house was the place they needed to be. He was an older Italian man with a gray mustache and gold peaking out from inside his clothing. He drove a shiny new black Cadillac CTS.

"What's up Nick?"
"Carlo! I'm sick! It's like ninety-nine degrees out here! I can't find work! And it's my birthday!"

So Carlo invites me into his office and proceeds to get me a job working for a guy named Ray.

So the next day I get on a bus with two other guys from the halfway house. We get off the bus, and I have no idea what the fuck kind of job I've been hired to do. We walk into an open office area, with maybe ten desks set up. I'm asked to have a seat. Before long everyone in the place is on their feet shouting into telephones. They're talking about dollars and euros and oil and shit I don't even know. Then I meet Ray.

Ray is a guy I will never forget for as long as I live. The guy is maybe six inches shorter than I, with short gray hair spiked. He's got these suspicious eyes like chaos. He's got a gold Rolex, a gold bracelet, a gold chain around his neck... and he's fierce.

Thus I began my short career as a "broker."

What I did for the following two years wasn't right. I justified it in my head, I thought to myself; "It's ok! I'm not breaking any laws."

And I wasn't. I worked for a group of guys who legally took people's money and in exchange gave them absolutely nothing.

My roommate and I think we might have a story, working for these people, that could sell books or movies or TV shows. He met them in Barcelona, back when they were breaking laws. They moved him to Florida after they set up shop down here and decided to go mostly legit.

I'll probably elaborate more on that another time. For now though, suffice to say I'm out of that business. My commodities license was revoked and our attorney told us it would probably cost between $20-$40,000 to get it reinstated. Not worth it to me, I'm sick of markets.

I've been out since November of 2009. During the last seven months I've been moving from job to job. I tried a couple sales jobs, I worked in a warehouse for a while, got a part time job stocking magazines in various retail chains, and now I'm working as a behavioral health technician in a rehab. Basically what that means is I keep track of patients and make sure they're not fucking each other or killing each other (or themselves) and I gotta convince them not to leave sometimes as well.

I have a girlfriend. Our one year anniversary is in August. She's six years older than me... she turned thirty in May. She's my baby. She treats me better than any other woman I've ever had in my life, save my mom. Reading my older journal entries today, I was definitely forced to realize how sick my relationships were in the past. Very glad things have changed so much.


Well, my roommate's laptop is almost out of battery power, and I don't know where the charger is, so I'll write more tomorrow.

peace!