I feel like you need clarity man, above all else. Don't know if the SSRI is giving it. Obviously very not done to comment on others medicine, but shit went kinda fast, at least from my perspective. I mean, your dexamp plans are legit, and I'd probably do exactly the same in your situation, but forgive me being a little suspicious given timing and circumstances, same with wanting to microdose DCK. Not saying it's necessarily a bad idea, I'm just poking in your stuff hehe. Not judging, mentioning it since you mentioned it, quite the opposite, challenging to think & evaluate.
Lol yeah, clarity for sure is what I need. The thing is that by all external appearances the last few days have basically gone fine. I inconvenienced my subordinate somewhat on Monday, but basically spent Tuesday picking up all of my own slack. DCK obviously was a terrible decision last night as I maybe got 2 hours of something vaguely reminiscent of sleep, aided by another clonaz and did not have a repeat of the faux-Serotonin Syndrome scare from the day before but I also got ZERO and I mean ZERO VALUE from even being on DCK. DCK is so so spiritual and special feeling but it's just as deceptive as K I realise now, that god damn disso darkness making me think somehow I can get anything of value from that serene and alien otherworld.
They and DCK especially makes me choke with emotion at the sheer beauty of the Grand Design of All, and how we are so clearly parts of something transcendent and beautiful, and I think there is value in those experiences, for sure, but it's so so easy to just slide back into that addict compulsive drive to get into the Otherworld and just vacantly marvel at the wonders while the parallel material world just gets neglected.
I've had barely any sleep all week and am in a bit of a state right now but I also had a brief chat with my therapist yesterday and he thought I was doing good. Obviously I've taken some steps to seeking more real help for my somewhat intangible problems. In a few days I'm sure I'll be rested up, I'll do a slow taper from these benzos, by the grace of god I will not touch that DCK again until I've actually finished sorting out the shit I was supposed to sort out by getting sober. This is just a really weird fucking headspace to be in where on the one hand actually I'm keeping it together pretty well and the future's looking good, but on the other I'm just barely riding it out, keeping loaded up on milder stims and moderate doses of benzos to push through where it really matters... if anyone had a hidden camera or fly on the wall type of view of the inside of my flat and my spangled insomniac meanderings the last few days I'm sure I'd end up sectioned. Or maybe they wouldn't, maybe I'm overstating it, I don't fucking know, what I do know is that reintroducing dissos into my allowed drugs bubble has brought nothing good except a harsh lesson that I hope I've now learned. It's not enough to just see the beauty of the grand design, you have to actually live within it, suffering, pain, warts and all, otherwise you're just a tourist in life.
Actually on the tail end of yesterday's DCK escapade I did install OKCupid again and (perhaps inadvisedly) messaged a few women from my past who either rejected me or things ended for some other reason, quite transparent fishing texts obviously but fuck it, I think I need to start putting a real effort into dating again, it's been a long time since I had a woman in my life and probably just the effort of trying would do me a lot of good.
The parts I remember from the the DCK-holes were, as ever, fascinatingly alien Otherworlds... the most memorable points are when the movement stops, you're no longer riding the god-machine or the train or whatever it is you're on and suddenly you're just there, that mysterious, alien, always slightly different but always kind of similar
Otherworld... for me the realisation is usually followed by a dawning feeling of confinement, like I'm locked in some kind of compartment of uncertain dimensions and function. Often I can probe the boundaries of my containment vessel, observe my limbs which usually look like alien appendages, definitely not my own, usually it feels like I'm clothed in some kind of lycra, usually the boundaries of the compartment are HR Giger-esque in their ornamentation, dark grey brown shades of plastic and metal, No matter how many times I end up in these places, the feelings are always the same, that real life, before this, was a constructed illusion and there's now a scene change that's occuring, that, possibly, you're not usually supposed to be conscious for.
No matter how often that happens I'm always like shit, how am I gonna get back firstly (although this thought is never too distressing really), or shit, I guess that's the end of my role in that particular scene of that chunk of reality, i wonder where I'll go from here. Like it feels so real, and it's so easy to just believe everything in your life up to that moment was just you playing a role, now discarded, and now you're back in the studio for a costume change, a set change, to prepare the unseen movers behind the scenes to cut to a different story, or something else entirely... Obviously really what's happening is I'm probably just sitting down fumbling around at the walls and not understanding that I'm actually somewhere very familiar but, fuck, it still feels so real and even knowing the probable reality from an observer's viewpoint doesn't change the magic of the
experience, of
being in that place. I also find it very philosophically interesting - for too many reasons for me to bother going into now.
Definitely, though, it's more fun to just report back from solo adventures, I would not relish being recorded in such a state.
