danosaurous22
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jun 10, 2025
- Messages
- 129
I do sometimes look at my life from a more detached perspective and realize that, even though I have a rational side of me that convinces me this is okay, I am truly out of control with drugs and every session does involve me pushing myself into health problems that I ignore since I'm so freaked out/high and feel like it's worth the heart issues. But something I would never be able to forgive myself for would be dying for this drug. I have made peace with the money rock bottoms I have hit, I can deal with fucking up my relationships, I can deal with the severe and quite debilitating mental shifts it has caused in me long term. Because that is just my suffering, and I don't think my suffering matters that much in the world. But lately it feels like I push it to a point where I can't take a deep breath, sweating, dry heaving, can't think straight, vision messed up, etc. where I realize I'm lying to myself about not having a death wish with it. It is such a powerful escape from the world that I ignore how close to the edge I get, and even feel proud of myself after making it through a particularly bad bender. I also wouldn't forgive myself for losing my job over this, because I have pushed it so far in making it through a work day after all kinds of benders that if I even push it a little further I could run into some serious problems. My job is one of the only parts of my life besides cocaine that I am dedicated to, and really in a selfless way. It lets me socialize, help people, be a good listener, learn from people much older than me, and in general try to create a welcoming and hard working atmosphere with many people who are difficult to work with. My success in leading people and bringing people together (maybe an ego trip and really I'm just fantasizing, but I really do believe that I create a positive impact and act selflessly when it's not people I am very close to) has been my primary reprieve this whole time, and drugs help me kind of hide away from that persona and get down to something realer, more dangerous, and most importantly something that just destroys my sense of self and basically removes everyday thoughts that haunt me and drag me down. They manifest in the paranoia, granted, but that is at least distracting and confusing compared to just contemplating my life. My problem become little rats and animals in the corner of my eye, more directly terrifying than thinking about my life but there's no reason or relatability to it beyond it being scary and unknown. I'm beginning to think that this is a big part of my dependence on the drug, it distorts my life to the extent that I no longer have to be the person I am for as long as I'm binging. And by the end, I feel grateful for returning to being that person just because the direct hallucinated horrors are more debilitating than contemplating reality and my life. But then those darker, more subtle thoughts creep up after a week or two of sobriety, and all it takes it a craving or two to make me come crawling back to cocaine to erase my brain for another weekend. The work week / weekend cycle messes me up too, it is hard to resist using the weekend as a way to drop out of society for a while and get down to something much more intense, so intense that I can't even remember what my problems are. That only makes it worse when I remember them, and then I have to compound that with the depression and cravings and most damaging, the shame of doing cocaine. Not to ramble and this is a well known theme to drug addictions (hiding from problems) but cocaine is just a perfect drug for somebody who is self destructive and obsessive about the problems with life and themselves. It becomes a better and better escape every time, because you gradually come to need that release rather than want it because it just makes your life messier and more shameful. So as the problem gets worse, the solution feels better and better until there is no substitute. I'm definitely not ready to quit, but I go deeper down that rabbit whole with every binge no matter how much weight I do. It just gets more and more tantalizing every time you binge, and I do sometimes fear that I have taken so much of it that this is what has doomed me more than anything else. I haven't met anybody who has done nearly as much cocaine as I have, and occasionally I'll have a flashback to the way my brain felt years ago before this year and a half bender. It's truly night and day, and I will always stay optimistic but I have a hunch that not many people make it out of this in one piece. In periods of sobriety (because I don't have the cash), I end up getting through it because I know in the back of my mind that it will always be there for me, and I will return again someday. That gets me down the most, I'm still not ready to accept a reality without considering cocaine even a little bit.
